Page 36 of Crash

He sighs. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles, stuffing the money into his black jeans pocket. “Be out by five a.m., clean up your fucking mess, and never tell anyone about this.”

“Not a fucking problem, King. As long as no one finds out about this.”

He shoves another cigarette in his mouth, cupping his hand around it to light it, blowing smoke in my face. Motherfucker. “Why exactly is this not happening at one of your locations? Don’t act like you don’t have them.”

I crack my neck, rolling my shoulder. Not to fight, just to release the built-up tension I’ve had since Jasmine hasn’t been in my immediate vicinity. “Because the piece of shit hanging up over there…” I point to Felix, whose naked body hangs from two hooks swinging from the ceiling. Blood dripping off his feet from the wounds of the hooks embedded into his back. A broken, bloody broomstick lays under his feet, his head resting on his chest. Axel nods, turning his eyes back to mine. “…is wanted by many. Including my parents. But his life is mine, and mine only.”

Axel shakes his head. “You heirs are twisted.” He grins.

“As if we’re any worse than the Rebels.” The Rebels are notorious for their methods in torture.

Axel shrugs. “At least we are up-front about it. We don’t hide behind a multibillion-dollar bank or the alleged Children of Nobility.”

“Can’t help what we’re born into. And, by the way, we are not part of The Children of Nobility, we are acquaintances, allies. We don’t answer to them. They scratch our backs; we scratch theirs.”

“Whatever, man. I’m out of here. Be gone by five.” He stalks out of the building, slamming the metal door behind him.

Mark steps out of the shadows, dressed in workout gear, blood splatters on his shirt. “Why the fuck are you still here?”

Mark looks down at his feet, then back to me, eyes connecting. “Because I care about Jasmine, about you.’

I chuckle, producing a joint from my pack, letting it hang on my bottom lip as I light it. “Funny way of showing it. First, you took my girl, touched your lips to her body in front of me. You’ve always been a shit friend, Mark.”

“I know.” He sighs, running his hands through his hair. “But come on, Easton. You knew our families hated each other. Or should have. The Kelly name should have blared warning bells at you.”

“Yeah, it should have, but I thought maybe I had a real friend, and not because of my money or my status.” He is pissing me off even more, making me vulnerable. I don’t do vulnerability.

“I was, most of the time. I have an entire mafia to run, Easton. I can’t be fucking weak and let some friendship dictate my life.”

I nod. “I’m done with this. Fucking leave so I can get started.”

He crosses his arms, leaning back into the wall. “Nah, I’m going to watch.”

I throw my joint down, crunching it under my boot. Walking over to Felix, who seems to be unconscious, I set my backpack down, grabbing the scalpel, sitting it on the dirty ground. Because who gives a shit if he gets an infection? He wouldn’t live to see tomorrow anyway. I grab the torch lighter, along with the branding iron, throwing those to the ground as well. Rising, I send my foot to Felix’s stomach. He groans, shifting away, only to begin screaming as the hooks shift in his back from his movement. I grin from the pleasure his pain gives me.

“Wakey, wakey, Felix. It’s time to play.”

His eyes skate over the toys on the ground, flashing back to mine. I pick up the scalpel, touching the sharp point into my finger, mock wincing at him. “This thing is sharp. I would not want to be on the other end of it.” I twist it in my fingers, slowly walking around him. Stopping, I bring the sharp point to his back, slowly dragging it down, barely penetrating the skin. He tenses, not releasing the scream I know this tiny cut is evoking inside of him. Tiny bubbles of blood pool to the surface.

Walking back around, I grab his leg, extending it until I can reach the inside of his leg. “Before you,” I say, as I start my first cut at the back of his knees, “she cut on the outside of her hips.” He hisses as his filthy blood drips onto my finger.

I move higher. “After you, she cut on the insides of her thighs, her tainted area, as she calls it. So close to her most private area.” I rise higher, slicing deeper. “She scarred her beautiful, pale skin because of you.”

I push the scalpel all the way in, pulling out slowly as he groans. An alarming amount of blood leaks from him. His skin is wet with perspiration, pale and sickly-looking. I drop his leg and the scalpel, grabbing the branding iron and torch. “Did you know she even burns herself after?” I ask, heating the iron.

“Get it over with and kill me,” he hisses weakly.

“I’m sure she was begging the same thing when you took her. And by your example, I, too, will drag this out.”

The iron glows orange. I press the metal over the cuts, his screams grow in volume as the sound of frying flesh echoes around us. The smell makes my eyes water, but I never stop, never look away as I cauterize the wounds. His head falls forward, body limp.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Did I kill this weak bastard already?”

Mark walks over, a hand to Felix's wrist. “Nope, he’s just passed out.”

“It was rhetorical, step the fuck back.” Mark throws up his hands, retreating to the shadows.

I inject him with adrenaline as his body tenses up. “Welcome back. I wasn’t finished—almost, but not quite.”

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