Page 44 of Baratta's Darkness

“Mad Dog, Amico. Tell me about your girl. Why do you think I stole your girl?”

He slaps me, “I am not you friend! Stop saying that! My girl, she is beautiful work of art. People they say tattoo not art, but my girl she draw everything freehand. All her work original, she turn ugly people into beautiful people. No more talk. I kill you then go kill yappy dog. Fiona she love garbage puppy, but want to kick yappy dog. I take care of for her.”

“Amico, why did you send all those pictures to Fiona?”

“I am not you friend! I show my girl, I watch out for her. I keep her safe.”

“Why does she call you Clint?”

“Clint safe, American name. My mom she must be on drugs when she name me. Who gives name Harold to Italian man? The people they call me Harry. I not Harry. I Mad Dog, but for her I be Clint. No more talk, yappy dog waiting for me.”

I watch him raise his gun and take aim but before he can pull the trigger the door is thrown open and my worst nightmare burst into the cabin.

A tremor of fear snakes through my body, as he spins with the gun ready to fire.

“NO!” I scream, I can’t tell from where I am who pulled the trigger but the blast of the 9mm echoesoff the walls. When Mad Dog falls to the floor with a bullet hole right between his eyes, I almost can’t believe it’s over.

“Did you miss me?” Fiona asks as she holsters her gun. She doesn’t wait for an answer. Fi straddles my lap and kisses me until we are both out of breath.

“I have one question for you.”

“Hmm?”

“Who or what is yappy dog?”

“I’ll tell you while I cut off this tape.” She proceeds to tell me about her night. By the end of the yappy dog story, I’m not restrained anymore. So I pull her into my lap. We probably would have stayed like that for hours, if three hot headed MC members didn’t charge through the door ten minutes later.

Fiona spins around so she is facing them. “Your timing leaves a little something to be desired.”

Timber, Blade and Blood are just standing there looking at her. The silence is almost creepier than listening to Mad Dog’s rant. It’s finally broken by Blood.

“Fiona, how long has this cabin been here and why didn’t you tell me about it back at the clubhouse.”

She ignores him when I turn her head back to me, “Where are we Babe?”

She tries to look at Blood but I don’t let her turn away.

“Fine” she crosses her arms over her chest. “Timber, are the woods clear?” I don’t understand why she is asking him that, until I hear his answer. “Nobody can hear you but us.”

“We grew up here, on this land. Me and Blood. That’s probably why Mad Dog chose this place. It’s still in my name but I never come here. Our Dad was awesome, I remember him swinging me around in his arms, playing ball with Blood. Until one day he disappeared, just poof gone like he never existed. The same day he went missing was the day Step-Monster showed up. He wore Dad’s clothes. He rode Dad’s bike; it was almost like he was trying to be Dad. I was five or six?” She looks to Blood for confirmation.

“Six, I was nine.”

“The first year wasn’t so bad, but when Blood turned ten the monster decided he was old enough to learn to fight. Not kicking, punching, and boxing kind of fighting. No, that was too clean for him. He wanted Blood to fight him with a knife.

I was seven the first time I thought my brother was going to bleed to death. By the time I was ten I could sew stitches better than any doctor in this town. When Blood turned eighteen he ran like hell to get out of here. I didn’t have my brother to protect me anymore.

He started out with just slapping me around. He said I wouldn’t learn to fight like my brother because I was just a useless little girl. I did learn to hide though. I spent my high school years hiding from him.

When I was seventeen, I saw him acting weird. So I followed him into the woods. He came to this cabin.

When I peek through the window I could see he had a woman tied up and he was hurting her. I ran home to hide in my closet for the rest of the night.

I must have made a noise or something that let him know that I was there. He got more violent as the days went by. Instead of just hitting me and cussing at me, he started grabbing me. Mom would just watch as he fondled me. He would make comments like; you are a big girl now.

I ran to the clubhouse and begged Blood to teach me how to shoot. He’s the one that gave me my first gun. I was shooting better than him pretty fast. He called it beginner’s luck, I called it determination. I slept with the gun under my pillow every night after that.

“Do I have to tell the rest?” She looks at me but asks the room.

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