Page 37 of Vengeful Eyes
“Screw it. Come on.”
“What now?” Torino stands with me.
“We can start our run over.”
“Hope, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m—”
“Not today, Torino. Please. Come on.”
I set off, hoping I can escape the tension in my muscles, but I know, deep down, nothing will allow me to rest easy again. Not until this is over.
Thirteen
She’s out here somewhere on her morning run, irrespective of the rain that’s been pouring down around her. Torino’s with her, following her as always. I scan the dim light of the park in front of me, searching for her amongst the few scattered runners as I amble the last of the paths up to the reservoir. This is where she comes, stamping down the tracks and finding her way. Why? Torino says that’s all she does, day after day, sometimes twice a day. Sometimes faster than normal, so much so that he struggles to keep up with her. Earbuds in. Music on high. I frown, not knowing what music she actually likes to listen to, then shake my head and carry on.
A child comes past me at speed from the gloom, mother carrying another one while pushing a third in a pushchair. I stare at her going by, watching the way she struggles to cope with the three of them. What the hell is she doing here this early in the morning? Fucking odd people and their desires. Not that I'd have a goddamned clue what people with kids do. Why would anyone want that kind of life? My own mother clearly knew how to play it. One boy, someone ready to take over from Father at some point, and not another thought in the direction of siblings.
I smile a little at the memory of her hands on my shoulders, straightening my tie and sending me into the fucking fray when I was ten. Ten—that’s when it started. First time I felt the back of his hand on my cheek. First time I felt the consequences of not obeying him. It was for my own good, he said. It’d make me stronger, harder. It happened so often I became numb to it until one day it didn’t happen again. I’d proved myself then. Become a man, he said, fourteen and a man. No preamble. No thought of giving me a life other than the one he was building. He pushed me into everything, sharpening my mind so I would be ready for the future that was coming.
I shot someone on my fifteenth birthday.
With the gun he gave me as a present.
And he made me pull the heart from the wound I’d caused by doing it.
Literally.
My fingers rub around the beads at my wrist, my eyes focused at the ground as my mind replays the feel of bloodied flesh for the first time. I remember it being slippery and warm, a weak pulse still lingering.
“That’s what you do now, Benjamin,” he’d said, slapping me on the back, as he gave me these amber beads. A gift, he said. They’d help keep me safe. “You make them remember that about you every day of your fucking life. They’ll take over if you don’t.”
No fucker’s ever taking anything from me.
“Hey.”
I look up. Hope.
She’s in front of me, looking washed out. Her breathing is heavy, like she’s been running at full speed. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t really know.
My brow scrunches up at the thought, watching as her ponytail bounces because of the jumps she’s now doing. I glance back at Torino hovering in the background, sweat dripping from his brow, and keep playing my beads over my skin. “You finished?” I ask her. She fidgets to the side and back.
“I can be.”
Her split lip shines under the streetlamp in my view as she carries on moving, pissing me off for reasons I don’t understand. I glare at it and chew my own lip, remembering the same fucking thing there all those years ago. So many bruises, all of them there to teach me discipline and respect.
“Are you okay?” Her brows draw together in confusion.
No. I'm not. Not my usual. “Go get cleaned up. I’m taking you out,” I eventually reply. She stops at that, hands still on her hips as she mulls over the response.
“Where?”
“Just get that ass moving. I’ll meet you at the car in thirty minutes.” She nods and spins around like a good girl, not bothering to look for Torino.
“What do I wear?” she calls back, putting one of her ear buds in as she jogs on the spot and turns back to look at me. So fucking pretty. I stare for a minute longer, watching as her breasts bounce and the muscles in her long legs flex as she moves.
“Anything. Wear goddamn jeans if you want.”
