Page 3 of Stabby Little

I twist the knife in deeper, slicing until I reach his heart.

After I kill him, I bring the blade to his left hand and slice it off. This is the same hand that hurt so many boys. It abused them when he thought no one would find out.

This is the hand I'll keep with me as a prize.

“Good luck in the afterlife.” I snag Gordon's wallet and pull out his cash. There's five grand in here. No doubt from his illegal activities. “You won't need this where you're going.”

After sliding my knife into my sock, I slip out of his house to make things right with the FedEx driver.

* * *

Life wasn't always this way.

I had a normal childhood.

I grew up in a skyscraper in Manhattan with rich parents who sent me to private school and paid for lacrosse lessons.

I was the star of my team and a fucking savant with my stick.

But everything changed when the men stole me off the street.

When they brought me to the warehouse and forced me to service clients.

I was only eleven when they took me and put me to work.

I prayed for a fucking miracle but it never came.

Becauseheabandoned me.

He—the one who swore to protect me.

* * *

Grant Barrett.

That was his name.

He was an enigma, a black hole split by lightning. He was my best friend Miles's father.

Firm. Fierce. Piercing black eyes that followed you wherever you went.

The first day I met him, I didn't know whether I was looking at a movie star or a Mafia hitman. I was only a kid, not even on the edge of puberty, but I knew there was something special about him.

He was so different from my father, that wealthy asshole who had panic attacks every morning and threw objects around my house.

I could never speak my truth to my father.

I could never tell him how much his refusal to seek treatment for his mental health problems affected me.

I could never tell him how powerless he made me feel when he raged.

Grant epitomized safety. Comfort. Home.

He held a power he didn't need to buttress with force, one that radiated off him like fire.

When he cooked dinner for Miles and me, typically dinosaur chicken nuggets and French fries which we ate like crazy when we watchedScary Movie, I got the sense he could whip up a five-star meal in under an hour if he wanted to.

He probably resented entertaining his kid's best friend, now that I think about it. Nevertheless, he stepped up to the plate when my own father dropped the ball.

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