Page 21 of The Bones We Break
My head emerges from the now lukewarm water. My lungs are burning, screaming out at me to fill them with oxygen and I inhale the precious chemical through my mouth until it reaches my insides, the organs expanding in my chest. Gripping the sides of the tub tightly, I pull myself up into a sitting position and tug my legs into myself, resting my chin on my knees, closing my eyes for a moment to bask in the silence of thehouse, until that safe haven is broken. The front door flies open and slams behind the monster that’s entered our home, and my body flinches involuntarily at the noise. Wrapping my fingers around the small metal chain, I quickly pull the plug out from the bottom of the bathtub, the foamy water now swirling down the drain and step onto the cream bath mat that’s placed on the floor, clear water droplets crash to the ground off my wet hair and body. I listen to Ricky’s movements downstairs whilst roughly towel drying my hair then wrapping my soft robe around my fragile body, quickly tying a knot at the front. The fibres are soothing over my skin. Hanging the towel back up exactly as it was, I then slid the razor blade into my robe pocket before hanging the bath mat over the side of the bath to dry. Ricky hates when I leave it on the floor and he stands on it without his shoes on, soaking his black socks.
Quietly, I tip toe across the tiled floor and open the bathroom door, the heat immediately leaving the small room and step onto the landing, I pause for a moment and lean over the bannister rail, my breaths are silent as I hear Ricky shuffling around downstairs, his voice breaking the silence.
“I couldn’t give a fuck whose responsible for this monumental fuck up!” He shouts down what I’m assuming is the phone. “My drugs were supposed to land at the drop off point.. Today! Not yesterday, not tomorrow, to-fucking-day! Find my fucking shipment Nico, or it’ll be your intestines that I rip out next.” From where I’m standing, I hear him slam the phone on the kitchen island before making his way over to the liquor cupboard, no doubt picking out his favourite whiskey. I don’t wait around to see what his next move will be and scuttle across the landing towards our bedroom, pushing the door open and softly clicking it closed behind me. Keeping the lights off, I shed out of my robe and hang it on the back of the doorbefore quickly shuffling into a matching pair of white pyjamas that Ricky chose for me. He said I shouldn’t be wearing dark clothing, that it doesn’t suit my complexion, so I don’t.
Throwing the heavy quilt back, I climb into the expensive but comfortable bed and lay on my side, my back facing the door and tuck the covers up to my chin in hopes that this soft armour will shield me from Ricky’s wrath. I lie in total darkness and complete silence, listening for footsteps downstairs.
I always knew my husband had his tainted hands in dodgy dealings because there is no way his one casino, that I never hear anything about, makes him the millions that he owns. My husband thinks I’m stupid, that I don’t pay attention or listen to the small talk that I hear, but I do. I pay attention to everything. And knowing thateverything, is gonna be the thing that gets me out of here. No one suspects a silent wife, and when my time comes, I’ll take it. Whether I leave here bloodied and bruised, or in a body bag.
“You motherfucker!”
The brass knuckles on my fingers connect with the already bruised flesh, splitting the skin wide open, crimson blood spraying across the damp basement floor. The fuckers head falls forward in between his shoulders, his chin hitting his chest, and dark greasy strands falling over his eyes. His arms are tied behind his back on the chair, his ankles fastened with zip ties around the wooden legs.
I run my hand through his disgusting hair, gripping it at the roots before yanking his head back, the muscles popping. His pale face is mottled with purple bruises and open wounds, his left eye is swollen shut, completely cutting off his vision. Pinky red blood stains his once white teeth, the clotted liquid settling between the gaps. Exhaustion is apparent on his face, but I’m not done yet. Pulling his head further back, the wooden chair beneath him starts to tip. Leaning down, I look into his only good eye, anger seeping into my voice.
“Where the fuck is my shipment, Logan?” I seethe. I had a drop off scheduled for today, but you can imagine my surprise when Nico decided to grace me with his presence to deliver thebadfucking news.I could have blown a hole straight through his head the moment the words left his mouth. Now here I am, in this piece of shit basement of my warehouse,questioningevery single person who had a hand in the delivery of my drugs. Logan’s the poor bastard who was the first volunteer. By volunteer, I mean he had no fucking choice.
Tears start to well in his bloodshot eye, sticky snot bubbles popping on his face. I grimace at the sight before dropping his head. Rolling his head from side to side, he whimpers and mumbles.
“Ricky.. C’mon, please.” He stops for a moment, my patience now wearing thin. “I don’t know anything. I was told to wait at the docs.. For the shipment.” He takes another breath in and my teeth start to grind, waiting for him to spit it out. “I waited and it never arrived. That’s all I know.” Turning my back to him, I roughly run a hand down my face. Frustration seeped into my bones like hot lava.
I walk over to the metal table in the corner of the dark room, bracing my hands on the edge and dropping my head to give myself a moment to think. The wet sack of shit sobs behind me and it’s enough to send me over the edge. I lift my head slowly, releasing the tension that’s trapped in my neck and scan over the weapons that lay on the table, its structure creaks and groans under the force of my grip. My jaw ticks as I scan over the selection before landing on the blow torch, a thrill shooting through me at the thought of burning this fuckers skin until it falls off the bone.
Grabbing the blow torch, I swiftly turn away from the table and head back over to Logan, who I’m convinced has passed out, his breathing even and steady. I circle him once, like a deadly vulture in the sky before stopping at his side, then I flex my long fingers around the blow torch before resting my index fingeron the trigger, pulling it back. The burning blue flame fires out right next to his ear, scorching his hair. The smoky, burnt aroma seeps its way into my senses as Logan’s head snaps up from the heat, his chest heaving and panting.
“Hey! Look, you don’t have to do this! I told you I didn’t know anything!” He screams, throwing himself around wildly on the chair. Lifting my finger, I release the trigger, the flames instantly disappearing. Logan slumps back into the chair in relief as I lean down to his level, hovering the blow torch over his knee cap. Taunting him. Teasing him. All the colour drains from his face, leaving him grey and pale. His thin bottom lip starts to wobble, his teeth clattering around in his mouth like a china tea set. Lifting my gaze, I face him head on. I know my eyes will show no remorse for my actions as I place my index finger back over the trigger of the blow torch.
“You see, Logan. I don’t believe you.” I say, my eyes scanning over his face. Inhaling his fear. “So, I’ll ask again, and I want the truth. And if I don’t get the truth, I will turn your flesh into pork scratchings and serve them at the local fucking pub.” He shudders at my threat, his hot breaths fire rapidly out of his mouth. “Now. Where is my shipment?” I grit out.
Logan throws his head back, sobs spluttering from his open mouth, strings of saliva dripping from the corners.
“I don’t know! I swear!” He pleads, his one good eye darting around the room. A flash of something I can’t quite put my finger on skates across his face, but it’s enough to convince me that he’s bullshitting.
“You’re a terrible liar, Logan.”I say before pulling the trigger again, the bright blue flame sears into his flesh, melting his trousers to his pink skin. His strangled screams and moans bounce off the walls, creating a symphony of torment as I burn a hole straight through his meat and fat, the skin beginning to slipaway like melted ice cream on a hot pavement.
“PLEASE!Please, stop!” Logan’s cries break through the noise of the blowtorch and I instantly release my finger, cutting the flame off. The room stinks of burnt flesh, almost like cooking a perfect rump steak at home. He falls forward again, the movement causing him to stretch his arms behind him, his back rises and falls as he takes in deep, laboured breaths.
“I could do this all day, Logan. In fact, it’s quite the hobby of mine but you see, I have to find out who stole my fucking shipment and you’re not helping me. In fact, you’re becoming a waste of space.” I say, in a matter of fact, becoming bored of his presence.
Before I can carry on with my fun I hear Nico enter the room.
“Boss? We might have intel on the shipment.” He says. I turn to face him, a scowl permanently on my face.
“Might?” I question. “Youmighthave intel on my shipment?” Nico shuffles on his feet but keeps silent. “Might isn’t good enough, Nico. I want a definite answer!” I say, my voice beginning to get louder, more aggravated. Nico simply nods his head then leaves as quickly as he entered. Leaving us alone, I turn back to face Logan who’s currently pissing all over my floor, the yellow liquid creating an ever growing wet patch on his trousers.
“Motherfucker.” I mumble to myself before placing the blowtorch back on the table, the heavy weight causing Logan to jump in his seat.
The weapons taunt me, each one of them begging me to pick them, but I go with the semi automatic pistol, the weight a familiar friend. My fingers slip easily around the cold grey metal before releasing the magazine to see that it’s fully loaded. With precision, I slot it back into place then pull the chamber back,the mechanism clicking inside. My arm feels heavy as I drop it to my side and walk back over to Logan, exhaustion taking over my bones.
My brain is scrambling like overcooked eggs. The squishy grey brain matter is fried and tough like old meat.
“Hey, fuck face!” I shout, his head instantly snaps up, his eyes bugging wide as he takes notice of the gun in my hand. Logan starts to panic again, fear taking over his already limp body.
“Woah, Ricky. Please, let’s talk about this!” He tries to plead his case but I’m done caring now. “I’m fucking done talking.” I say before blowing out his knee caps. The bone shatters instantly, flesh splaying open like a smashed fruit, the burnt red liquid starts to pour freely from the bullet holes.
Logan throws himself into a fit of agony, terrorised screams bounce off every wall, groans and whimpers falling from his lips. I grip the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb, counting to three before raising the gun again. My finger presses the trigger down again, and the gun recoils, one single bullet flies through the chamber and straight into the middle of Logan’s forehead and out the back. His head snaps back, brain matter and blood splatter over the wall at the back of him. Chunks of flesh slide down the bricks before falling to the floor with an audible splat.
Kinda looks like a dropped cherry pie.Shame.
