Page 3 of Cruel Games

The rev of the dirtbike engine filled me with a sickness in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure what they planned to do, but it couldn’t be good. And from the look of terror in my father’s eyes, he knew what it was enough to be very, very afraid.

He clawed uselessly at his captor’s hands as Red dragged his face closer to the tire, which now spun dangerously fast. It was like an out-of-control sawblade, and as Green revved the engine again, Red pulled my father’s face against the hot rubber tire and ground the two together in a sickening display of feral depravity.

Blood. So much blood.

The scream was . . .

I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move. I just stood there as my father’s horrified, agnized screams filled the air, his blood spraying all over the side of the house and through the window, painting my face with a perfect arc of gore and gruesome artwork.

I could taste my father’s lifeblood on my lips. Could smell the metallic tang in my nose. It tinted the edges of my vision pink.

His screams filled my ears. Made it impossible to think.

I wanted to scream–whether in rage, fear, or horror, I wasn’t sure–but I couldn’t make my throat work.

“How do you like the taste of that tire, huh, Dannyboy?” Red screamed, his voice cracking. “Does it taste good? Do you wantmore?!?”

My father’s body went limp, and I realized with a sickening clarity that he was dead now. There was no life left in the shell of a man who’d once been my hero. He was gone.

Gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

“Enough, Jackal,” Blue said quietly, motioning with his hand to tell Green to cut the engine. “He’s dead.”

“I wanted it to last longer,” he growled, slipping his mask back up on his face. “He didn’t deserve a quick end.”

Green grunted in agreement but said nothing more. He simply slung his bat over his shoulder, kicked the riser out from under the bike, and put it on its kickstand before moving to another one, the neon paint job matching his mask. Blue grabbed Red by the shoulder and jerked his head in the direction of the gates, suggesting it was time to go.

In the distance, police sirens wailed ominously, but they were too late.

Too late.

My hands shook as I stared out at the body of my father, lying abandoned on the ground, bleeding all over the fresh layer of asphalt he’d paid to have installed last week. The river of red wound its way from his body to the edge of the lawn, seeping into the dirt to disappear from sight.

My mind was a mess, thoughts jumbled, cut off and fractured, just like the part of me that had, until now, clung to innocence and referred to her father as ‘daddy.’

My ears rang. I could feel a rapid, staccato beating in my temples, in the depths of my chest. Air was hard to swallow, and it felt like I couldn’t get enough of it. I just barely managed to keep from pissing myself as I stood there, watching these men prepare to disappear back from wherever they came from–the pits of hell, most likely–like they’d been nothing but a figment of my imagination.

Enough, Jackal. He’s dead.

Jackal.

A feral dog. How fitting.

Should I run and hide? Should I duck down in case they looked back and saw me standing here, and decided to end me next? Surely it wasn’t a smart idea to leave a witness. If they’d seen me, maybe I’d be the next one lying on the asphalt, bleeding out, the only sound escaping me a death rattle.

As their tires kicked up gravel and dirt and blood, they peeled out and disappeared from sight, leaving me still standing there inthe dark of my father’s office, still coated in the perfect arc of his blood, the sound of his screams still echoing in my head.

And as the first police lights reflected on the black driveway my father had just paid to have re-paved, I swore I’d make those killers pay for what they’d done tonight.

I’d find them. I’d find them all and make them suffer.

And when I finally got my revenge, I’d make sure they remembered my name. Remembered why I’d come for them in the first place.

They’d go to hell with the knowledge that they left a witness that night. And just like they took my father’s life, I would take theirs.

I’ll see you dogs in hell. Just you wait.

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