Page 10 of The Cleaner

Keith's wide awake now,his eyes huge and filled with fear. I guess this is just a taste of what he put Callie through. “What…” he breathes. “What’s going on?”

“Mav,” Jer says, his voice filled with pride, “he’s all yours.”

We're in a secluded part of the docks, in a port-a-cabin, one that I assume Jer owns or has paid someone for the use of. There’s clear cellophane on the floor, ready for me to unleash my anger. Keith didn't wake throughout the entire car ride here, but the moment Stephen and Butch threw him to the ground, he woke up and started shrieking like a banshee.

I grip the saw in my hand tighter, glaring at the motherfucker who put his hands on my sister, beat her bloody, and almost tried to kill her tonight. He should have stayed the fuck away from her. Had he done, he wouldn’t be here right now.

“This is going to hurt,” I say, surprised at the lack of emotion in my voice. I’ve thought about this day a lot, wondered what I’d do to him. I always thought I’d be angrier, that I’d be reckless, but I’m not. I feel in control. I know what I’m going to do to him. I bend down, my knees pressing into his side, and I hold out his arm. With the saw in hand, I begin to hack away.

He screams in agony as the saw bites into his flesh. I keep my knee planted in his side so he can’t escape. The sound echoes through the cabin, bouncing off the metal walls. I don’t falter; I keep my gaze on this fucker’s arm.

“Christ,” I hear Jer hiss. “I didn’t expect this.”

Stephen’s laughter is loud. “We should have. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“Fucking proud as hell,” Butch replies. “I can’t wait to watch the full show. You got any chairs around here, Jer?”

I hear metal scraping and know they have in fact found seats to watch the show.

“I should’ve done this years ago,” I growl. “You should never have touched my sister.”

The asshole beneath me writhes on the floor, begging for mercy, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Maverick. Please, I beg of you. I’ll do anything, anything! Just let me go.”

I ignore him and focus intently on the task at hand. The saw glitters wickedly in the dim light as it slices through skin and bone. Blood spurts from his limb, and I’m grateful for the cellophane. It catches everything. It takes me a while, but I manage to sever his arm from just above his elbow.

I move to his other arm and begin the process all over again. It’s methodical, and I won’t stop. It’s quite soothing being able to hack away at the fucker’s limbs. I’m covered in blood, as is the saw and the cellophane, but I don’t give a fuck. I have a long way to go yet.

With a shaky hand, I manage to hack away the fucker’s arms, legs, and head from his torso. The sound of bones snapping and flesh tearing echoes in my ears as I carry out my task with ruthless determination. It's not a pretty sight, nor is it clean, but I don't give a damn. It's done, and this cunt can never hurt my sister again.

My fingers are coated in slick, warm blood, but I feel a sense of satisfaction wash over me. This is something I never thought I could do, yet here I am, surprised by how calm and focused I feel. As I look at the lifeless body before me, I know that many would question if I am capable of such brutality. But they'd be wrong. I’ll prove them wrong each and every time.

I stand up and wipe my hands on my jeans, trying to rid myself of some of the blood that now stains them. The scene around me is shocking, but it's a sight that the fucker deserved.No one else seems fazed by the carnage; they've all seen and participated in acts far worse than this.

"Hey, Butch," I call out to my uncle, "can you bring those heavy bricks over here?"

A round container sits nearby, ready to hold Keith's dismembered body. With the bricks at the bottom, we'll make sure the fucking thing sinks deep into the murky depths of the River Liffey—never to be found again.

Stephen crouches down to help with the heavy container, his muscles straining as he holds it steady while Butch carefully places three bricks inside. When it's finished, I don't hesitate to push Keith's dismembered body into the container. This part is a hell of a lot quicker than hacking away at him.

Jer offers me a bag and says, "Here. It's got fresh clothes inside. I always carry around a second set."

I make a mental note to remember this tip for future situations. Moving away from the blood-spattered ground, I quickly change into Jer's spare clothes while the other men start to clean up, carefully wrapping the cellophane and placing it in the container. I watch as they use super glue to seal the lid shut.

With my new clothes on, the four of us make our way outside and toward the edge of the dock where a small boat awaits us. We load the container onto the boat and Jer takes control, skilfully manoeuvring it out onto the river. In just a few minutes, he dumps the grisly contents of the container overboard. I watch with a grin as the container starts to sink beneath the water. By the time Jer reaches us back at the dock, the container is long gone and hopefully no one will ever find it.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Jer says, slapping me on the back. “You did good today, Mav. Fucking proud of you, son.”

I let his praise wash over me. I did what needed to be done and I’d do it all over again.

“Fucking clean,” Butch says, laughing. “Nothing left over for anyone to trace it back to you. That, my boy, is fucking genius. Well done.”

I hear Stephen chuckle. “The Cleaner,” he says. “Has a great fucking ring to it, wouldn’t you say?”

I see both Jer and Butch nodding in agreement. I guess that’s my moniker now. I can’t lie and say I’m not thrilled. It’s a great name, one that’ll have people wondering about me. I hope to be as notorious as Stephen is, but if I’m not, that’s all good. I did what I set out to do and that was make sure my sister is safe.

I’ll always protect my family. No matter what.

Chapter

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