Page 142 of Relentles
CJ swallowed. He wanted to leave so fucking bad. But he was there now. When this was over, he could walk out and choose the next time he came in. Which wouldn’t be anytime soon. He wasn’t patched in.
“How old were you, Dad?” he asked quietly.
“Sixteen.”
The same age as CJ.
As usual, Dad read his expression. “You ain’t me, CJ. You got the choice I never did.”
CJ nodded. “I’ll stay.”
Dad glanced at Rory. “I was haunted for fuckin’ months. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t fuckin’ eat. Specifically meat. This not for the faint of heart and this not a place you don’t walk out of and go about your fuckin’ day.”
Rory bowed his head.
“Especially the first time,” Dad said.“Every time you set foot in here, you happy you not on the fuckin’ receivin’ end. You also either regrettin’ it came to that or ecstatic you fucked up a motherfucker.” He shrugged. “It all fuckin’ depend on who you just fucked up.”
“Okay, Uncle Christopher,” Rory mumbled.
“Look at me.”
Swallowing, Rory raised his gaze to Dad.
“You ain’t weak if thinkin’ about in here keeps you awake and you not a freak if you like comin’ in here. What you can’t do is hurt motherfuckers just to bring them in here. You can’t hurt lil’ kids and girls.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The only way you ever know your strengths is by recognizin’ your weaknesses. Hear me, Rory?”
Rory nodded.
Before his father said anything else, Brett screamed and continued screaming until Uncle Johnnie held up a bloody fingernail with bits of flesh attached to it.
“In case you’re wondering, Brettie Boy,” Uncle Johnnie said, sounding almost orgasmic, “we heard what you told Rebel.” He grinned at Val. “Isn’t she your niece?”
“You right, John Boy. I almost forgot.”
Uncle Mort leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Val, have some mercy on this poor motherfucker. If he confess, we can let him go.”
What?
Wouldn’t Brett hightail it to the police?
“Okay!” Brett wailed, wild with pain and blood loss. “Okay. I admit I wanted to fuck Rebel and pretend she was Meg—”
Jamming his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Dad pumped bullets into Brett’s private area. CJ didn’t know if it was the dick or the scrotum.
He’d never seen so much blood or heard such agony.
“Our father…”
Rule’s voice rang around them. Uncle Johnnie handed Rory the pliers and instructed him on removing the next nail.
“Fuck all this fuckin’ screamin’. You shoulda fuckin’ thought of that before you fucked with my wife and daughter.”
As Uncle Johnnie reclaimed the pliers, Dad placed his gun in Brett’s mouth and pulled the trigger.
“You killed him,” Uncle Johnnie whined, staring at Brett’s fixed gaze and open mouth.
