Page 24 of Casper
We arrived at the rundown apartment building where Charlie had been living. Hiring a guy who lived in a place like this had probably been our first mistake. We worked with all kinds of people. Some of them were millionaires who lived in swanky penthouses. Others were street scum like Charlie. We did whatever it took to get the goods our clients requested.
There was no lock on the building’s main door to keep us from entering. We walked right inside with no problem. Up to the third floor, following a staircase draped in stained carpet that looked like it hadn’t been changed since the place had been built. As we strolled down the hallway toward his apartment, a crash came from behind one door. A television blaring daytime talk shows came from behind another.
We stopped outside Charlie’s door, listening for a moment. Rebel tried the door handle, finding it locked. Although we could simply kick the door in, he raised his hand and knocked.
“This motherfucker better not try anything,” Rebel muttered.
The door cracked open a few inches as Charlie peered out. I didn’t give him the chance to shut the door in our faces. Giving it a kick, I forced it open, driving him backwards.
“Oh, hey guys. How’s it going?” Charlie’s voice shook with nerves. “Come on in. I was just waking up and rolling a joint.”
Charlie looked pathetic as hell in a stained wife beater and boxer shorts. His hair was greasy and unkempt, dark circles under his eyes. He’d most likely been in a cycle of getting drunk and high.
Rebel closed the door, turning the lock. Not that anybody in this building would come to Charlie’s aid.
“Where’s our money, Charlie?” Rebel demanded, advancing on him. “You were supposed to have our drugs by now.”
Charlie backed down the short hall toward the living room with Rebel and me stalking toward him. “I talked to the guy. Really. He said he’ll have it tomorrow. I just need a little more time.”
“That’s what you said the last time we asked about it. A week ago. No more time, Charlie. No more chances.” The sinister expression Rebel wore had Charlie shaking.
He raised both hands, pleading for mercy. “I swear it this time. He’s good for it. I’m good for it. You’ll get your dope.”
Rebel pretended to consider for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I think we’ve changed our minds. We want our money back. Now. We’ll give you thirty seconds to produce it before we start breaking your body parts.”
We herded him into the small living room. It was little more than a worn brown couch that sagged in the middle and a coffee table littered with empty bottles and a tray filled with marijuana. Charlie almost tripped over a random running shoe in the middle of the floor.
“I don’t have the money. I gave it to my guy so he could get your stuff. You need to give me one more day. That’s all. One day.” His words were frantic, his eyes wide.
My entire body thrummed with anticipation. My skin felt tight. Like I needed to let loose the violence within me to feel comfortable. To ease the tension that made it hard to breathe.
I grabbed Charlie by the throat, giving him a shove that sent him flying. He crashed into the coffee table as he went down on the floor. Since I was just getting started, I reached to drag him to his feet.
He snatched up a knife that had been hidden in the trash on the table, taking a swing at me. The dirty blade slashed across my forearm, cutting me wide open. I made a sound low in my throat, a barely audible snarl. It wasn’t often that I made a noise of any kind. It didn’t come easily.
Rebel moved quickly, grabbing Charlie’s arm before he swung again. He snapped Charlie’s wrist back at an awkward angle, forcing him to drop the weapon as he screamed in pain. Not wanting to bleed on the carpet since we would soon have a dead body on our hands, I went to the kitchen in search of something to wrap the wound. All I found was an almost empty roll of paper towel. I wrapped it the best I could, the blood immediately seeping through.
“Now you’re dead,” Rebel said, holding a gun to Charlie’s head. “We were going to beat your ass, but now we have to kill you.”
“Fuck you, man,” Charlie spat, making a pathetic effort to crawl away. “You’ll never get your drugs or your money if you kill me.”
I was done holding back. There was no caging the monster once it was free. Grabbing Charlie by the hair, I slammed his face into the coffee table repeatedly. I followed that by pounding my fist into his face several times.
He was dazed and bloody, too weak and pitiful to fight back. Too bad. I liked it better when they fought back.
Grabbing an empty vodka bottle from the table, I smashed it over Charlie’s skull. He let out a wail, trying desperately to cover his head with his arms. I took advantage of his stupidity to bury my boot in his ribs over and over. I didn’t stop until he coughed blood.
Since a gun would be far too loud, I fetched the knife he’d dropped and plunged it into his throat. For good measure, I pulled it free and slammed it into his chest. There was no coming back from that. Blood bucketed from the wound in his throat, quickly soaking the carpet beneath him.
“Damn, Casper,” Rebel laughed. “That was especially brutal, even for you. Exorcising some inner demons, are you?”
I shrugged and signed, “Something like that.”
Staring down at Charlie’s bloody corpse, I wondered if Luna could accept this part of me. Sure she’d seen me kill someone while defending her. This was different. I killed Charlie simply because I wanted to.
I needed her to accept all of me. Especially the darkest parts. Otherwise, there was no telling what I might do.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
