Page 21 of Ravaged
“But she’s making amends,” Gerard said. He motioned towards me. “You have your gun?” I nodded. It was tucked inside of my jacket behind my back, in my holster. “Go on, son. Kill him. Let him be your first.”
My first kill for the Adlers. Not my first kill in general.
I took out my gun and aimed it at the man’s head. Tears gathered in his eyes.
“Please, don’t,” he said. “I promise I won’t. I won’t.”
“You won’t what?” I barked.
My mother’s long black hair came into my mind, watching her flick it off of her shoulders as she leaned across the coffee table. We hadn’t spoken in months, because it was best for both of us, but especially her safety.
You won’t—she had started, but it had taken her a few minutes to come up with the right words to explain what living with a mob boss would be like. She had told me everything she knew about the Adlers, without ever exposing their crime secrets. I had found those myself. She thought I didn’t know about their pasts, but I did.You won’t—she kept saying, but we needed to get to the point. I didn’t have much time with her. Before I went to start my new life.
I won’t, what?I asked.
She had stared at me for a moment, then leaned in closer.Listen, she had said, speaking clearly and quietly, so that only I would hear it, even though we were in the kitchen by ourselves. At the time, I had wondered if she thought it was bugged.You’ll have to do some horrible things out there. Horrible things. Awful things you’ll never be able to take back.The words were careful, yet they implied that killing Ken was something I could take back, when it never was.You won’t like it, but you’ll have family. They’ll protect you. If there’s one thing Gerard cares about, it’s family.
The same man who had made my mother move from Vegas to New Mexico, so that she would be out of his territory, and so that he could keep her out of sight. Because she had me.
That was family to him.
What about you? I tried to argue with her.What about bringing you back? You’re family too.
She reached across the table and held my hand, squeezing it in her grasp.I don’t belong there, she said, her features smooth, giving away nothing,You need to do this, she urged me,Do it for me. Do it for yourself, Ethan. Your family needs you.
What did it mean if my father let me in now, when I needed his protection from the police? From the investigators? From Ken and Abby’s family?
Was I another piece to Gerard’s puzzle? Another person to use before he discarded, like he did to others?
Right then, those answers didn’t matter.
A tear rolled down the bouncer’s cheek. I cocked the hammer. He flinched at the noise, hiding behind his arms. But an urge to survive overcame him, and he leaped up, racing towards me. Axe darted in and elbowed him in the face, knocking the man to the ground. He sobbed into his palms. A dark spot grew on his crotch until a yellow puddle gathered on the floor beneath him.
Then he fell forward, losing consciousness. His entire body crashed onto the floor.
“Seriously?” Wil laughed. All seriousness was gone, once again. “I mean, hell, I’d piss my pants too.”
“He put up a better fight earlier,” Axe said.
“He better have.”
“Are you going to do it or not, Ethan?” Derek asked, his voice cutting through the rest.
It was just another day to them. Another person to kill. This was something I would have to get used to. Not caring about life. Knowing that life was always expendable. That our family’s power mattered more than anything else.
In a way, I was doing this for my real family. I was doing this for my mom, to prove to her that this kinship that she felt with Gerard was real, that her assumption that he actually cared about his family was real. Because she needed me to do this. She needed me to survive. And I couldn’t let her get tangled up in my problems.
And I was running away. Not from Ken’s death, but from what happened after. Abby was nice, and yet her kindness didn’t save her from her husband’s wrath. I couldn’t bear to watch any longer, not when the bruises inched up her arms and neck, the swollen jaw, the puffy eyes, every day another mark to bury her soul deeper inside of her personal hell. How she used to smile and wave at me from across the apartment’s corridor, but then, she hid herself, never wanting to look me in the eyes because she knew what I saw. That I was watching. Because it was easier for her to pretend that nothing was wrong. That her husband wasn’t an abuser.
At first, I thought she had left the door open for me to find him beating her, so that I could protect her. It was later that I realized he had done it in his own drunken stupor. Left the door open. Forgotten it. Let me inside to kill him.
But when she passed, I knew she meant for me to find her hanging there. The bruises stagnant on her body, frozen in time. A reminder that I had always been too late. She wouldn’t go to the police to turn me in, and she couldn’t bring her husband back. So instead, she left behind the truth that I couldn’t outrun: she blamed herself for what I had done to him.
She took her own life, because of me.
I could transpose the image of Ken’s blond head of hair onto the bouncer. I could kill Ken again, and I would do it a hundred times. Because a man that beat a woman like that wasn’t meant to live.
But the passed out fucker in front of me wasn’t hurting anyone. He was trying to protect a woman he worked with. I would have done the same thing if I were in his shoes. Not only that, but he was pathetic. Pissed all over himself. A heap on the ground. Why kill a man that wasn’t a threat?
