Page 37 of The Thug And His Doll

Behind me Lia’s car is stripped of its wheels, even the fucking seats and carpet have been removed. Clearly he’s moved on from burgling houses to nicking and stripping cars for parts. I should’ve picked up her car sooner. It’s my fault this chancer stole it. She’ll be devastated when she finds out.

“I didn’t know this car belonged to your friend!” he protests, his eyes wide with panic as I lean in closer, the stench of his tobacco breath making me almost gag.

“Don’t lie to me!” I roar, my fingers tightening around his throat.

“I swear it,” he bites out, turning a deep crimson as spittle flies from his lips.

“You’ve got about five seconds to explain yourself before I pick up that crowbar you’ve been using to demolish a good woman’s car and use it to rearrange your face instead!”

He garbles some nonsensical response as I start to count.

“Five!” I snarl, anger raging through my blood at the fucking audacity of this prick.

“Drix, man–” he chokes out.

“Four!”

His feet scramble against the dusty floor as he tries to regain his footing, but I don’t let up. A red haze settles over me as I think about what this means for Lia and Toby. Her car might have been easy pickings for this prick, but it was all they had left.

“Three!”

Fraser’s fingernails dig into my hand, and I don’t even register the pain. I don’t even give a fuck about what Carl and Robert want out of this conversation, right now all I care about is settling the score for Lia and Toby. He’s done them wrong, and I intend on making him pay.

“Two!” I grind out, his eyes starting to bulge as veins pop in his forehead. “One!”

Fraser lets go of my hand, slamming his palm against my arm. I could easily murder the bastard here and now, but when I press my eyes shut ready to do just that, all I see is Lia and Toby in my mind’s eye and this wave of fucking shame punches me in the gut, forcing me to uncurl my fingers. They’d be terrified of me if they knew what I was doing right now, and I can’t live with that. I want them to trust me, not fear me.

“Start talking,” I demand, letting him go. He drops to the floor, sucking in ragged breaths as tears stream from his eyes.

After half a minute or so of him struggling to regain his breath, his skin begins to return to a more reasonable colour, and he’s swiping at the tears on his face. Snatching up the crowbar, I rest it beneath his chin, forcing him to look up at me.

“Listen, the car was abandoned at Bandits. I figured I would–”

“That you would steal it and fucking take it to pieces? You shit.”

“A man’s gotta earn a living. My parents cut me off. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Hey, I don’t know, get a fucking job?” I reply, my voice thick with sarcasm as I push the tip of the crowbar against his Adam’s apple.

“No one will hire me,” he chokes out.

“Because you’re a fucking no good, thieving shithead, that’s why!” Fury like nothing else rages through me as I look at the strewn and scattered parts of Lia’s car. Most of the engine is in pieces on the floor, as well as her other belongings we’d left in the car to pick up later. The way he’s just thrown her belongings about like they’re worthless riles me up further. “I should fucking kill you!”

“I’m sorry, man. I was desperate,” he whimpers.

“So tell me what I should do now? Because we both know that Carl and Robert are loosing patience with you, and I’ve got every fucking reason to rip your damn head off and dump your body where no fucker will find it.”

“L-let me make it u-up to you,” he stammers.

“How? How the fuck are you going to make this better, because you know as well as I do that car ain’t gonna magically put itself back together again. It’s a fucking write off.”

“I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me.”

Not so long ago, I would’ve ignored his plea and ended him right here and now. But I don’t want to be that man anymore. I never wanted to be that man, but circumstance and the fucking hold Carl has over me meant that I’ve had to be. My hands are covered in too much blood already, I don’t want to add anymore to it.

“Gather up all my friends' belongings and put them in the boot of my car. Then take what’s left of this car to the landfill. Ask for Kentucky. I’ll call him, let him know you’re coming,” I order, releasing the pressure from the crowbar, and stepping back.

He nods, lifting his shaking hands up as I motion for him to get a fucking move on. “You got it.”

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