Page 6 of The Devil In Disguise

A switch flips in my head, my hidden smile grows to match the one painted on my mask. I look at my toys again. Knives, screwdrivers, pliers, a saw—no. I’ll have some fun, but I won’t drag it out too long.

Round one calls for the hammer. Whistling Ring Around The Rosie, I saunter up to Carlos until I’m standing just a foot in front of him.

It’s fun to taunt them sometimes.

“You pissed yourself before I showed up. I don’t know if I can have any fun with you,” I tsk.

Without warning, I lash out with the hammer, hearing the bone crack on contact. His muffled screams get louder, so I whistle louder and shatter his other knee cap.

Echoed sobs follow me back to the table where I exchange my hammer for the pretty little electric cattle prod. This time when I make my way back to him, I rip the tape off his mouth and stand behind him out of view. He’ll squirm more if he can’t anticipate my next move. His pleas go in through one ear and out the other. I stay silent until he seems a degree calmer, then I shock him in his ribs, holding it until he releases an ear-piercing scream.

“Are you not tired yet? Don’t worry, we are almost done here,” I taunt in a low, menacing voice.

Heaving a breath, he spits out, “You’re just his fucking puppet.” A zap to the cervical shuts him right up.

Appearing in front of him suddenly, I twist the prod into his abdomen, relishing in the symphony he’s singing. I’m done playing with my food. Switching out the prod for my favorite toy yet, I prepare for our final game.

Carlos was weak until he spotted the spike-covered baton in my hand. Suddenly, he’s flailing and attempting to free himself—it’s almost amusing, if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“I always loved a good round of baseball. How about you?”

Before he gets a chance to answer, I swing at him full force, coming in contact with his shoulder first. I continue hitting him like he’s a piñata and I’m the birthday boy. I’ve given up control to the blind rage in my heart.

A strong grip on my shoulder pulls me out of the trance I fell into. Dropping the baton where I stand, I look at the hand on my shoulder then follow it to the owner's face.

Renato gives me an approving nod and pats me again before letting go. “You did good. Now make sure you get this mess cleaned up before you leave.” I nod and keep my eyes on his departing form.

The cloth mask is suffocating now, so I rip it off and turn to the mess that used to be Carlos. One peer at the disfigured body makes me want to heave up the coffee I had before arriving. It’s gotten easier to deal with, but the gruesome aftermath always rattles me up a bit.

Fucking hell, this shit is gross.

No matter how many times I have to torture and kill someone, no matter how deeply Renato tries to ingrain in my mind that this is right, it still weighs on my subconscious.

But this is the way things are.

I step outside and dial the clean-up crew. They should be nearby waiting for my call, so I give them the green light to come down to work. Taking my spot on my bike, I light up a cigarette while I wait on the crew to arrive so I can get home and wash today off of me.

Ace greets me outside my front door when I get home. If I’m not inside, he won’t be either, but he will always be guarding the place. No one comes back here unless they need to go into the woods and no one has ever set foot inside my house. If they tried, Ace would tear them into pieces first.

“Hey, buddy. Long day for you, too?” I ask him, rubbing his head.

I swear he answers me sometimes with his expressions and sounds. I unlock the door for us and let him in first. Dropping my full face helmet on the coffee table by the door, I scan the room—out of habit—then move to fill up Ace’s water bowl. The carbon fiber helmet is matte black with red lines, the only touch of color to my usual black ensemble.

While Ace drinks, I jump in the shower and wash the sweat and grime from the day off, trying to avert my thoughts from spiraling into darkness.

The only smidgen of brightness I have in this life is Ace. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend, or family, for that matter. They weren’t kidding when they said a dog is a man’s best friend; he’s been my right hand for the past ten years. I got him as a puppy a year after Mama died. Neither of us like people—we protect each other and he’s the only one I trust around here, ironically.

Considering I only have coffee in my system, my first order of business is lunch. Locating the left-over rice and chicken that I made yesterday, I heat that up while I fry some asparagus.

Half of the meal is split into a dish for Ace, sitting right next to my chair. We eat in a comfortable silence.

“How about we skip our workouts today, Ace? I’m exhausted.”

He seems to make an agreeable sound, then proceeds to get comfortable. That’s all I need to follow suit and take the spot next to him on my couch.

Chapter 4

Today has been a great day. Frida and I opened together and it’s been so slow, I can count on one hand how many customers have come in so far. On top of that, I get to clock out right when the wicked witch gets here for her shift.

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