Page 74 of Nine

I look back to the monitor. I scan over all the different folders until one catches my eye. It’s labeled tunnels and pipes. It seems off, next to all the other labels, such as 2015 Vacation to Korea or 2012 Office Party. I click on it and the screen instantly fills with child pornography. I slam down the screen.

“You’re a pedophile. You disgusting piece of shit.”

He backs up as I stand and march forward at him. I place the gun to his temple. He falls on the carpet to his knees.

“Do you know she’s here?”

“Who’s here?” he nervously says.

“Storm! Of all the islands in the world, you bring your nasty ass here, fucking up her world.”

I slam the gun against the side of his face. He falls down head first, and then he moans in pain.

I look over on the counter and grab his phone. I go straight to YouTube and hit search. I type in Swan Lake and let it play at full volume through his speaker.

“She said you used to play this song every night when you came into her room.” I kick him across his face. “How does it feel to be in fear?” I kick him again. The blood pours out of his nose.

I circle around him and then I kick him in his gut. The man looks like a coward beneath me. He’s crying and groaning and all I can think about is his hands all over Nine. The innocent little girl I never knew.

“Fucking pervert,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” I reach down and slam my fist into his bloody face. “You don’t get to be sorry,” I yell, and stand up. I step on one of his knees until I hear it crunch. He cries out.

“That’s definitely broken,” I warn.

I turn and look back to the laptop. Pictures of all of those naked kids run through my mind and it pushes the anger in me. I step forward so I’m directly above him. The gun is pointed down. I’m just about to pull the trigger, when I think about her. I picture her smile, her laugh, and the way her eyes light up when she’s not worrying. I think about her hand in mine, the sex and us kissing. I think back to the fighting and the struggle and then I lower the gun. If I kill him, then nothing about me has changed. I’d be a hypocrite. Just owning this gun puts me in that category. I can’t let him go free though. I can’t let him hurt her or anyone else again. Decisions. Decisions.

Fred moans out in pain and places his hand on my boot. I kick it off.

“Listen fuckface. Two months ago, I would have pulled the trigger, and then buried you out in the middle of the desert. And afterward I would have eaten dinner and not given a second thought about you.” I pause. “Luck would have it that your niece brings out my good side. I’m trying to be a changed man here, and you’re making it really difficult.”

He mumbles incoherently.

“Shut up. No one gives a shit what you have to say.”

I take the silencer out of my pocket, attach it, and then point the gun at his head.

“One shot and that’s it. You’re gone. One less pervert for all the mothers in the world to be worried about, but that would be too easy. No suffering. No pain. I don’t think so. I think you need to suffer for what you did to Storm. With that being said, I’ve decided you get to live…but it will be without a dick and you’ll have two fucked up hands.”

I quickly pull the trigger and take a shot at his crotch, and then one at each of his hands. He yells and then passes out. I kneel down and smack his face to wake him up. He barely opens his eyes.

“Do you know what they do to pedophiles in prison? I’d take some Vaseline if I were you.”

I stand up and then walk over to the counter. I open his laptop and face it toward the door, to make sure the pornography can be seen by police when they enter. I grab his cheap- ass, pay-as-you-go phone, call the cops, and put on the best country accent I can pull out.

“911. What’s your emergency?” the operator says.

“I think someone has been shot. I’m located at Carvers Inn on Biloxi Blvd. I heard bullets firing away from room 202 and then someone screamed. I saw a woman carrying out a child. She just kept saying he touched her baby, and then she ran away.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

I hang up the phone, take out the battery, and then stick them both in my pocket. I poke my head out of the door and then smoothly make an exit from his room. I’ve made it to front of the motel when I suddenly remember the serrated knife. It’s still on the ground back there. I swing around and quickly head back to retrieve it. I swoop up the knife and stick it in my pocket, and then I let my shirt hang down to hide it. I take his cell phone out and toss it into a nearby trashcan. Just as I’m about to leave, I hear sirens, and then several police cars pull up. I hide my bloody gloved hands in my armpits and walk past them like nothing, and then I’m clear. Once I’m out of their sight, I slide the gloves off and stuff them in my pocket. I make my way back over to the restaurant to check on Nine.

I walk in to Ricky’s and spot her. She’s clearly unfocused. Her face is filled with worry, and her eyes are watery. She’s snapping pictures, but she’s not in the moment. I sit down in the corner of the restaurant and watch her. She looks around and then her eyes meet mine. She exhales, almost in relief, but she looks pained. She thinks I killed him, and maybe I did. Maybe he’ll bleed to death in that motel room. Who knows? She starts to walk my way. I put one hand up to stop her, and then I point for her to refocus on her work. Two seconds later, six police officers enter. Nine and I briefly stare at each other before I look back at them. I watch as their eyes scan the place. They’re looking for someone. I put my elbow up on the table and cover my face with my hand. Suddenly a woman I recognize runs over to them from across the room. She’s the one that hired us for this photo shoot. She and the cops all walk toward my table and now everyone is standing right next to me. I see the woman wave Nine over and my heart drops.

“You made it. Thank god. I see you brought half the squad with you.” She smiles.

---