“Jesus Christ.”
The man’s hands were bound with a rope and hoisted above his head. Hanging from the ceiling was a large chain and the rope was tied to the end of it. To my left was a table with knives and other devices coated with blood. I fought the urge to vomit. The man had deep lacerations all over his naked body, there was puddle of blood under him, and his skin was so pale I knew he was minutes away from dying in front of me.
“What the fuck is this?”
“This,” Big Phil said, “is Hector Gomez. Hector is a narc for the feds, and you know the punishment for that.”
I wanted to run away.
“Yeah,” I said, “death, so what the fuck is this?”
“Marco just told me to kill him. He never told me in what way.”
Big Phil’s grin was sinister, and it disgusted me.
“You’re a sick cunt.”
He laughed, unbothered.
“That may be so, but I still have a task that I’ve yet to complete.”
When he looked at Hector, I froze. “So complete it.”
I felt so unbelievably heartbroken for the man before me, but in his current condition, I knew that death would be a mercy for him. He was mortally wounded, and though he was unconscious, I knew he was in severe pain. Big Phil had tortured him for his own sick amusement. I thought I couldn’t possibly think worse of the man than I already did, but he proved me wrong.
“Finishing this job is what you’re here for.”
I stepped back, my eyes widening to the point of pain.
“I’m not killing anyone,” I stated. “I’m just supposed to—”
“You’re supposed to do what I say,” Big Phil interrupted. “And I say that you have to kill him.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t. I won’t.”
“Do you know what the difference between choking and strangling is?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I hesitated, and Big Phil grinned.
“Choking is when something is stuck in your throat, and strangling is when you forcefully restrict a person’s ability to breathe by wrapping something around their throat.”
I didn’t move an inch.
“Being strangled is an awful way to die, I presume, and that experience will be one your little brother experiences if you don’t fall in line and do what you’re told.”
My body went rigid. “Don’t threaten my brother.”
“Don’t threaten him?” Big Phil repeated in disbelief. “Son, I’ll take his life in front of you if you slack on a job again.”
Fury flowed through my veins quickly followed by frustration and helplessness because there was nothing I could do to Big Phil without it hurting my brother.
“Are we clear?”
“Yeah,” I grunted. “We’re clear.”
“Kill Hector ... with your bare hands.”
I felt tears well in my eyes, but I turned my head so Big Phil couldn’t see me. I knew if I asked for a gun, he would think of a more brutal way for Hector to die. I slowly approached Hector who began to regain consciousness. He opened one of his swollen eyes and looked at me. He rasped something in Spanish that I didn’t understand.
“He’s begging you to kill him.”
My tears fell and splashed onto my cheeks. Hector saw them, and his body relaxed as much as it could considering its current state. He smiled at me, or at least I thought he did. I felt his acceptance at what was about to happen, and I believed that he saw in my eyes that I didn’t want to hurt him. He closed his wounded eye and exhaled a long breath.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I whispered. “I’m doing this for my brother. Please, forgive me.”
I closed my eyes as I started the beating. Through the crunching of bones, and the screams of agony, I forced my mind to retreat to a safe place. One where I wasn’t the evil thing ending someone’s life. Somewhere where I could pretend I was a good man and had a good life. When the screams stopped, I turned away and promptly vomited onto the floor. Big Phil laughed at me.
“You’re a man now, Kane, my boy.”
“I’m not your boy,” I snarled as I frantically rubbed my hands on my clothes to rid myself of Hector’s blood. “I’m nothing to you.”
“That is where you’re wrong,” he answered. “I own you.”
I didn’t reply.
“One more task, and you can hop back to bed.”
I closed my eyes when the doors to the room open and a woman’s screams could be heard. Those screams intensified when she entered the room. It was a scream filled with so much agony, I felt it seep down into my bones. A chill ran the length of my spine when the women wailed, “Hector!”
She spoke rapidly in Spanish, and when Hector didn’t answer her, she cried until she made no sound.
“This is Hector’s wife,” Big Phil said. “Also a narc for the feds.”
I lowered my head.