Made of Darkness

by Erica M Kim

  “Flip her around, and remove everything she’s wearing,” he commands from his chair. Four men hold onto me, while two men first untie my arms and force the upper half of my body to twist around as they re-secure one of my wrists. They use knives to roughly tear off the strips of remaining vinyl and fishnet stockings from my body. I try to keep my head up despite the situation. I should try to make a move now before I’m completely strapped down again. Without a moment’s hesitation, I whip my head back, crushing the nose of one of the men. I use my knees to push back from the wall, flailing wildly, trying to free my arms from the iron-like grip.

  “You keep moving, and I’ll shoot you in a place that won’t kill you. It will still hurt like hell. You’re not getting out of this,” the icy voice of one of the men threatens into my ear. He holds a loaded pistol against my shoulder, and I relax again as they release my legs and force them into position. Now the front of my body is pressed against the cobblestone wall. Despite the situation, I immediately appreciate the coolness of the stone against my open wounds and sore bruises. I press my face against the stone, knowing that this will be the last good thing I feel before my certain death.

  The first lash wasn’t so bad. In fact, I thought I might be able to handle it. The second lash wasn’t half bad either. But after the tenth strike, the metallic scent of my own blood is filling the room. My back is slick and warm, and my trembling body is covered in sweat. I still had not given Vincent the pleasure of showing any signs of pain, and he demands the guard to go harder.

  The tail of the twelfth lash catches the back of my head, and my face bangs against the stone. The pain sears through my core, and every cell in my body cries in misery. I no longer am able to open my eyes as tears seep out into my lashes, and I try to push out reality to focus on clearing my mind. My mind’s eye seeks out the moon I often picture, the paleness, and the wondrous cool light that it shines upon the world.

  I silently beg for mercy and repent my sins to whatever deity out there who is willing to listen to my pleas. Please. Please . . . Suddenly, I see him. Lio. His name catches in my throat. I barely got to know the man I was starting to fall for. His face shines onto my mind’s landscape as the whip comes down across my back another time. This time a gasp of pain escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

  Every moment we shared whirs through my mind, filling it with joy, warmth, and such great regret. The bite of the whip is nothing compared to the fracture in my heart. A single tear trickles down my cheek, landing in the crevice of my closed lips. My tongue tastes the saltiness, and devastation shakes my soul. With the fading moonlight and my looming destruction, I begin to realize the truth, the raw emotion I felt for Lio, despite trying to fight it. In the short amount of time I had with him, I got to know what happiness is. I understood what love might feel like. What a fool I’ve been. More tears loosen from the dam until I can’t stop their free-falling flow.

  From the real world that I am tuning out, there is a crash that sounds from downstairs. My eyes fly open as my trance is broken, and Lio’s face disappears. I turn my head as far as it can go to see Vincent’s reaction.

  “Go and see what that was,” Vincent instructs his men from his slouched position on the chair. Several men obey his orders, leaving just a few men plus Carlos. Vincent looks haggard, hair disheveled, blood seeping through his bandages, but his face is still fixated on his mission. The distraction gives me a temporary reprieve from my punisher.

  “Are you enjoying this?” Vincent taunts me.

  “Don’t you need to rest, old man?” I manage to throw back at him, trying to turn my head further to glare at Vincent, but wince when I feel the sharp sting of the open wounds on my back.

  It is eerily quiet for a few moments before gunshots start firing downstairs. The men downstairs yell in Spanish, then there are noises like objects are being thrown. Chaos ensues, and it sounds like there is a full battle taking place downstairs, with multiple guns consistently firing. My heart speeds up. Is Vincent being attacked by another gang? Is it Markus Sirelle?

  The attack seems to be scaling the stairway, and random gunshots continue to be fired, but mostly, I hear the pounding of skin on skin contact and grunts. It sounds like it is a twenty-man army taking down Vincent’s men. The remaining men in the room ready themselves for the attackers, as they hide Vincent behind the bar.

  My heart thumps. Whether or not the attacking men are on my side, although highly unlikely, my hope is that they will, at the very least, spare me from having to endure more of Vincent’s malicious torture.

  The sounds of the fight move to the hallway near our room. I crane my neck around in an attempt to see the attacks, but I can’t see anything yet. The guards in the room ready their guns as they aim to fire. I realize then that I would be helplessly hanging in a room where bullets will be flying and ricocheting everywhere. I plead again to the gods that I would be spared.

  The footsteps come closer to the door, and in the end, I can only hear one racing toward the doorway. The whole hallway lights up with the intruder as if the person is carrying some sort of torch or bright light.

  Once the footsteps reached the doorway, I am shocked beyond words. I blink once, then twice, wondering if I am still under the effects of the drug.

  Lio is standing in the doorframe of the room. And he looks like he is on fire.

  46

  I am still grappling to find my words when the attacks begin. Vincent’s guards gather themselves and open fire on Lio’s glowing body. He isn’t a difficult target to hit. Despite the onslaught of rounds of bullets emptying themselves on his body, Lio seems unfazed. The bullets seem to be bouncing off of him as if he is wearing some invisible light shield around his entire body. My mouth hangs open.

  It takes a few minutes for the guards to unload all of their ammunition. Hundreds of bullets and casings lay strewn around the scene. They momentarily look around as if unsure as to what they could possibly do next. Before they figure out their next move, Lio pounces. I can’t whip my head around fast enough to catch his first move. All I see is the aftereffect of the first guard’s body lying motionless on the floor.

  Lio swiftly moves onto the next man, grabbing hold of his head, and in one movement, twisting his neck until I hear a snap. The other three guards await their imminent death, and one is on his knees, his mouth moving quickly in a whispered prayer.

  The light seems to blaze brighter by the moment, and I have to squint to see Lio clearly. He unsheathes a sword that is attached to his left hip and deftly slaughters two men. Seriously, a fucking sword?! The sword moves as if it is a part of his arm, fluidly and gracefully. The last man, Carlos, is on his knees in mid-prayer when Lio’s sword finds the back of his neck.

  Finished with the guards, Lio moves toward the bar to where Vincent is hiding. He drags Vincent out into the open room, and I see that his bandages have already bled through, and he can’t put up much of a fight. His skin has a grayish pallor, and he is in need of medical attention. We both made the foolish decision to play with our food for too long.

  “You sick, perverted man,” Lio spits at him. I swear his voice reverberates in the room. “All of the horrifying and malevolent things you’ve committed through your business and perverse fetishes deserve a worse punishment than death.”

  “And who are you, coming here to save the day?” Vincent’s voice is barely audible, though his face is obstinate and remains ruthless.

  “This is for what you did to Lunis,” Lio says, ignoring Vincent’s question. He raises his sword above his head and brings it down decisively in one movement. An instant later, Vincent’s head rolls away a few feet from Lio’s feet. The look of shock and horror permanently melded into the once handsome face.

  The moment that Vincent’s head is severed, the glow emanating from Lio’s body seems to abate. He sheathes his sword after wiping the dripping blood on Vincent’s pants and walks toward me wordlessly. He gingerly unties my wrists and helps me down from the torture devi
ce, all without saying a word. My wrists are sore from straining, and Lio rubs out some of the pain watching me carefully, but still silent. My wrists are the least of my worries. My back feels like it’s been torn apart, and the needles all over my body sting. When I finally turn around to see the room and the windows, I see that it is dawn, and the morning rays slit the curtains. It’s a bloodbath, and bodies lay strewn all around the room. Ramon isn’t among the dead though.

  Lio helps me hobble toward the bed, and I try to cover myself. I’m ashamed that he is seeing me like this: bruised, bloodied, and naked by the hands of a ruthless drug lord. But worse, that he’s seen me as the monster that I am: ruthless, violent, and hungry to kill above all else. I am still coping with the shock of him finding me. I open my mouth to try to express some sort of apology and explanation, but Lio interrupts me.

  “Stop. We don’t have much time here. We need to go before more men show up, or worse, the police. Let’s talk when we get somewhere safe. Are you okay? That’s the most important thing. Are you okay?” he repeats.

  “Y-yeah,” I stammer. “I’m okay.”

  “Let’s go then.” Lio surveys the room, and he finds a blanket to wrap me in. I spot my Smith and Wesson on the floor, along with Markus’s file, and shove them into my purse. There is nothing else here worth taking.

  “How did you know to find me here?” I ask this question because it’s the one thing I can’t figure out. Lio gently acts as my crutch as he guides me out of the room. “Ramon texted me. He said you were in trouble and he gave me the address here. In fact, he’s still downstairs. I asked him to wait for us.” Wow. So, Ramon betrayed me, then decided to save me. I didn’t even know what to think about him.

  Indeed, at the kitchen table, Ramon is seated, eyes downcast and looking sullen. He looks up when he hears our footsteps approaching. We stare at each other silently for a few beats, and I wrestle the urge to strangle his throat instantly.

  Ramon speaks before I can act on my instincts. “Lunis, I am sorry for what I did and what happened to you. My family. You know, they’re everything.” Ramon averts his eyes again. “Vincent said he would help get my sister the best possible care. He said he would take care of my family. He said he wouldn’t kill you . . .” Ramon was fine with seeing me get beat up, but couldn’t live with my death on his conscience? Seems more like a self-defense move than an actual act of compassion. My blood begins to boil looking at his regretful face.

  Despite the fact that the full moon has passed, the familiarity of blood and death entices me to strike Ramon down for his betrayal and selfishness. But I decide against it. If I kill Ramon, I will truly embody the heartless, cold monster that I fear. I won’t be able to live with myself, even if he deserves it, especially knowing how much his family needs him.

  “Leave, Ramon. Don’t come back to Hair of the Dog. I don’t want to see you ever again.” With that, Lio and I head out of this hellhole, and I don’t bother giving Ramon another look.

  After depositing me into the car, Lio runs back to the house quickly. Within a few minutes, he returns with a box in his hands.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Couldn’t forget these. From the security cameras.” He points to the box with hard drives that would hold evidence to all of the events that occurred last night.

  “Good thinking.” I appreciate the fact that he has the wherewithal to think two steps ahead despite the circumstances.

  The ride in Lio’s SUV to my apartment is a quiet one, but not uncomfortable. My brain is still in a bit of shock, trying to wrap its jumbled self around the chaos that ensued tonight. I almost died. And Lio saved me, but he was on fire. The skin on my back throbs, and I am positive my blood is soaking through to the leather seat. I hold the blanket around me closer and repress a shudder that tries to seize my soul.

  47

  Upon reaching my apartment, Lio tells me to stay in the car as he goes in first to scope inside. Once it is clear, he helps me out and patiently guides my limping body inside.

  “Where is your first aid kit?”

  “It’s in the hallway closet,” I answer, dreading what’s to come next. “I can clean myself up, Lio.” I want to avoid any further inspection until I could see the damage for myself.

  “Lunis, I’m guessing you haven’t really had a chance to look at yourself closely, but I’m not letting you do anything by yourself right now. You look horrible.” I resign with a sigh and look into Lio’s eyes. Even his irises still look golden, and the rest of his body continues to have a shimmer of light in the darkness of my apartment.

  “Fine,” I concede. I am going to have to give in, especially since he saved my ass.

  In the harsh light of my bathroom, I momentarily hesitate before I unravel the blanket. Shame and embarrassment sink in as I brace myself to show Lio what Vincent has done to my body. I dare a glimpse in the mirror and see the horror. I look like the walking dead. Blood covers most of my body, some from those I brutally murdered, and some from the wounds I sustained from Vincent’s wicked doing.

  Luckily, most of the injuries that Vincent inflicted during the stronghold of the full moon had mostly healed. But the lashes from the whip are still gaping open, raw and oozing blood. Lio washes his hands thoroughly, then puts on medical grade gloves before he methodically removes the several needles that pierce my skin. First, my arms, then my legs, and lastly, the two lodged into my nipples. I close my eyes for this part, shame filling me like a rising tide. I can’t bear looking at his face while he does this. Then he wipes my skin with an antiseptic ointment.

  “That sick bastard,” Lio mutters under his breath as he finishes. His hands work quickly and dexterously as if they belong to a surgeon. He doesn’t judge me or look at me in any way but with a professional concern as he helps me into the tub and sits me down before turning the water on. I try to avoid eye contact with him during the entire process. I am completely, utterly self-conscious.

  With the utmost care and gentleness, he pats my back down with a wet towel, washing away the clotted blood. Once he is done with this, he moves onto my arms and legs and the rest of my damaged body.

  “You’re lucky that he did most of this when the moon was full. You’re already healed almost everywhere, other than your back.”

  “How do you know about the moon?” I am perplexed by how Lio knows so much.

  “Let’s not go into it now. You almost died, Lunis. You need to rest. We can talk all you want once you’ve rested. Let’s just focus on getting you clean and better, baby.”

  With hearing the last word of affection, I shut up. I am glad to be home. And so thankful to see Lio. I close my eyes and try not to focus on the stinging pain as he cleans the blood off of my body. The gashes on my back make me flinch, and I stifle a cry. It is going to take a long time for me to heal from these wounds. The scars will be a visible reminder of tonight forever.

  “Take this. It will ease with the pain and help you sleep,” he says as he holds out two white pills and a large glass of water. I don’t question or protest at this point, gladly willing to take any reprieve from the current situation.

  Once I am clean—face, body, and hair all washed—I am feeling a whole lot better, and Lio takes me to the bedroom to dress my wounds with fresh aloe vera, which I’m not sure where he found, but gladly accept anyway. He wraps me with large white bandages. He helps me put on a pair of clean pajamas and walks me to the bed.

  The bed never felt so good. I take a deep breath in of the familiar fruity scent of my bedroom and wiggle my toes in joy for being in it. Once I’m lying down comfortably on my side, it is hard to keep my eyelids open. Lio lies down next to me, so I try to train my eyes to stay open, but they keep fluttering shut. Whatever pills Lio gave me have kicked in, and it’s extremely difficult fighting the soothing call of slumber. Lio finally puts his hand over my eyes, forcing them shut.

  Suddenly I open my eyes and move his hand. “I’m sorry, Lio, about everything. About lying to you, shut
ting you out,” I blurt out.

  “You did what you had to do at the moment.” Lio’s voice is reassuring and nonjudgmental.

  “You were right, though. I shouldn’t have gotten myself in this situation.”

  “It’s okay. We’re okay,” he says. “Rest. I’ll be right here.”

  “Please don’t leave me, Lio,” I hear my voice saying. “I need you next to me.”

  “I know.”

  I look into his concerned, ocean-blue eyes, and I close my own and gently float into oblivion, feeling safe and at peace.

  48

  The last thing I see in a fading dream is Vincent’s head rolling on the ground. There is blood everywhere, and I am startled awake by the brutality. I wish it was just a dream, but by the tenderness on my back, I know it is anything but that. My eyes open to find that the room is dark and empty, but I hear a clanking sound and meander out.

  In the kitchen, Lio’s back is to me, and the smell of food wafts to me. My stomach growls in response. Above all things, I am relieved to see him still here. I immediately break into a smile.

  “Breakfast for dinner?” I ask incredulously. Lio turns around and returns my smile.

  “I’m glad you’re awake. I was dreading having to wake you up, but your body needs nourishment. And yes, breakfast for dinner,” he says as he sets down a plate on the dining table.

  “What have you been doing?” I notice that his skin no longer has the shimmering effects that I had seen before, and Lio looks pretty much like his normal, handsome self. If it wasn’t for the fact that he is standing in my kitchen right now, I would have questioned if I hallucinated his part in the chaos that took place.

  “Well, I picked up your car. I used an app on your phone to find it.”