by J. L. Beck
I start walking after her, determined to figure out what happened when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Cruising under my breath, I take it out and look at the screen.
Markus: Meet me in ten minutes, corner of 10th and Williams St.
Shit.
I have to go, but I’m not going to let this go. I’m going to figure out who put their hands on Claire, and I will make them pay.
4
Claire
I stare down at the sidewalk as I trudge down the street and toward our neighborhood. The hole at the top of my shoe has gotten bigger, and I can now see my big toe poking out the top with each step I take.
Maybe I can convince Dad to go to Goodwill and get me a new pair of shoes? That is if he didn’t already spend his entire check. I try not to frown, even though I want to. I want new shoes and better clothes, but Dad is always telling me we can’t afford them. Sometimes, I wonder if what he really means is that he doesn’t want to buy it for me.
I look up as I come to the end of the sidewalk and enter the crosswalk. At the same time, a car pulls up beside me. I know better than to talk to strangers, but this isn’t a stranger. The car is a blacked-out SUV, and I only know one person with a car like this.
The passenger side window rolls down, and Lucca’s face greets me. “Hey! Get in. I’ll drive you home.”
I’m tempted to take him up on his offer, but then I remember his face when he saw my bruises. He’s going to ask questions. I know he won’t let this go, just like the counselor at school.
“I’m fine. I always walk home.” I don’t slow my steps, and Lucca keeps driving slowly beside me.
“Claire, get in. You ran away the other day without answering me. Now, you don’t have an option. I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what happened to your arm.”
I knew it.
“I told you, I fell.”
“Claire, get it,” he commands, his voice dark. The intensity of it makes me shiver.
“No.” I shake my head and tighten my grip on the strap of my backpack. I don’t say anything else as I make a sharp turn into the park and away from the road.
“Claire!” Lucca yells after me, which only makes my feet move faster.
I can’t let him get to me. I can’t let him find out what’s going on. It will only make things worse. My dad might actually kill me this time. He’s worried about Lucca, who he is, and what he’s doing. He doesn’t want me talking to him or being near him, and I don’t want to get beat again, so I’m going to do what I’m told. Like I should’ve done from the beginning.
I’m so caught up in my head that I don’t even pay attention to where I’m going or who I’m running into. All I care about at the moment is getting away from Lucca.
Too late, I realize my mistake.
“Look who came to hang out with us boys. Little Red,” someone snickers. I turn my head to where the voice is coming from, and my eyes connect with Daniel’s dark gaze.
Daniel live in my neighborhood and goes to high school. I think he is old enough to graduate but got held back a few years. The guys he is surrounding himself with are younger, but they all have one thing in common. They are bad news.
They are known as the troublemakers around school, and right now, that’s exactly what they look like, trouble. I count five of them, and immediately, I feel even more helpless. Five to one. As if one of them couldn’t easily overpower me.
Circling me like sharks, they surround me in seconds. My heart starts beating so loudly, I’m sure everyone in the park can hear it slamming against my ribcage.
“I need to get home; my dad is waiting for me,” I lie.
“Sure, he is. By home, you mean under the bridge?” Everyone chuckles, and Daniel grins mischievously. “Is he going to take you to the mall and buy you some new clothes?”
The group starts laughing, the sound hitting me like a wave of nausea.
“Maybe he’ll take her to the homeless shelter, where they eat the food that we threw out last night,” one of the guys says.
Ignoring their verbal assaults, I try to leave. Ducking in between two of them, I move quickly, but they cut off my way.
“Why are you trying to go so soon? It’s not like you have any place to be. We could buy you some clothes and food, you know?” Daniel suggests.
“Yes, we’ll take you to the store and let you pick whatever you want. You just have to do some stuff for us.”
“No,” I shake my head. I don’t even want to know what kind of stuff they would expect me to do.
“Why not? Don’t you want a new pair of shoes?”
“Let me go.” I try to leave again, just to be cut off a second time. Hoping to catch them by surprise, I spin around and run the other way. Unfortunately, I don’t get far. Someone grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
“Stop!” I try to pull out of his hold, but his grip is like an iron shackle. Someone else grabs my other arm, and they both start to pull me away from the park’s path.
Panic wraps around my throat, making it hard to breathe.
What are they planning on doing to me?
“Please,” I beg, digging my heels to the ground. My desperate plea only seems to make them more excited as they keep pulling me away.
This can’t be happening. I can’t let them hurt me. I have to fight or do something… scream. I suck in a deep breath, about to let out a cry for help when I see a large shadow move beside us.
Before I realize what’s happening, a hand wraps around Daniel’s throat. He lets go of my wrist, and his friend lets go a second after.
“You fucking punk!” Lucca’s deep voice booms through the air.
With one hand wrapped around Daniel’s throat, he holds him in place while starting to smash his other hand into his face.
The air stills in my lungs as I stare at Lucca. His face is distorted with rage, his lips curled in a snarl, and his eyes… his eyes are darker than black.
I’ve never seen Lucca like this. He almost looks like a different person.
Frozen in shock, I watch as two guys try to get Lucca off Daniel, but Lucca simply shoves the teenage boys away, like they are nothing more than fruit flies. Two more guys are running off, leaving their friends behind without a second glance.
Lucca’s fist tumbles down on Daniel’s bloody face until his body goes slack. For a moment, I think he is dead. Lucca let’s go of him, and I watch in horror as Daniel crumbles to the ground.
“Fuck, man! You killed him,” one of Daniel’s friends yells as he pushes himself back on his feet.
“He isn’t dead, but he will be, and so will you. If one of you fuckers ever touch her, talk to her, or even think of her, I will end you,” Lucca growls, and there is no doubt in my mind that he is serious. “I will find you, and I will kill you in the most painful way I can think of, and trust me, I can think of a few.”
I almost pee myself. My whole body is shaking, my feet are cemented into the ground, and my throat feels like there is a golf ball lodged inside.
Daniel is coughing and gasping for air on the ground, while his two remaining friends look at Lucca with pure terror in their eyes. With pale faces, both of them nod before helping Daniel to his feet and dragging him away.
“Are you okay?” Lucca turns to me, his eyes soften and his body relaxing. “Claire, talk to me. Did they hurt you? Let me see your arms, kiddo.”
His voice is soothing now, the menacing tone he’d used on my attackers is gone, and back is the sweet and caring guy I know. He steps in front of me and reaches for my wrists. Gently, he pushes up my sleeves and inspects my wrists one by one.
There is blood on his knuckles, but his touch is so tender, it makes me question if what I just witnessed was a dream.
“This will never happen again,” he warns, but his voice is still kind. “You should have told me, I could have scared them sooner. They won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
“I thought you were going to kill him,” I admit, still a bit s
haken up.
“I just wanted to scare them, Claire. He’ll have a bruised face and a bruised ego, but that’s all. Hopefully, he learned his lesson.”
Only then do I realize he thinks they were the ones who put the bruises on my arm in the first place. Relief washes over me in waves. Lucca thinks he fixed my problem, and even though he did fix one of them, the biggest one is still my own.
Lucca won’t ask any more questions, and for that, I’m thankful.
“Come on, let me take you home,” Lucca coos, holding his hand out to me. I take it and let him walk me back to his car.
This is the Lucca I know, the nice guy who cares for me. I don’t know what I thought I saw in his eyes before, but I must have imagined that darkness.
Lucca could never actually kill someone. He is way too nice.
5
Lucca
She’s looking at me like I’m Jesus, and I just turned water into wine. With her unruly red hair framing her face, her pale green eyes seem even brighter as she glances at me with wonder.
She doesn’t have the first clue who I really am or the evil that runs through my veins. I’ve killed, stolen, lied, and cheated. I’m the devil, waiting for you to slip up, so I can come to claim a piece of your soul.
I should tell her the truth, tell her that she just got a glimpse of the real me. I should tell her that I am a killer, that I’m an enforcer for the mob, and couldn’t love it any more than I do. I should tell her that I almost killed the guy who touched her, matter of fact, I still might.
But the reality is, I don’t want her to look at me like that. I don’t want her to know the real me. The thought of her seeing me in another light makes my stomach ache.
Plus, she’s just a kid. She doesn’t need to know the gritty details of my life.
Opening the passenger door, I take off her backpack, and I lift her into the seat. I watch her buckle up before I place her bag in the backseat.
Quickly, I walk around to the driver’s side and get in.
As I turn on the car, I glance over at Claire noticing how small she looks sitting in the large leather seat. Sometimes, I forget how tiny she is.
“Next time someone bothers you, you tell me right away, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmurs, but I don’t quite believe her.
“Did you tell anyone else about it? Your dad or your teachers?” I ask as we drive down the road.
“No.” She shakes her head and starts to shift in her seat, nervously. “Telling people makes it worse. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”
“Not when I handle it. You tell me, and I’ll take care of it. Deal?”
She nods, but I’m still not convinced. “Maybe I should talk to your dad?”
“No! I’ll tell him,” her voice climbs and drops again when she adds, “he doesn’t like you very much.”
I noticed. The question is, why? Clearly, it’s not because he worries about his daughter’s safety or wellbeing. Could he possibly know who I work for? Is it possible he’s simply scared of me?
A few minutes later, we pull up in front of my place. My eyes immediately go to the beat-up Honda in front of Claire’s house. Her dad must be home early from work.
The front door flies open, and her father steps out on the porch. His eyes immediately find mine, accusing me of something without even knowing what happened.
“I-I got to go,” Claire’s voice is shaky, and when I look over to her, I notice that the rest of her is shaking too.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing… I mean… I’m not supposed to get in anyone’s car.”
“I’ll talk to him, explain what happened.”
“No, it’s fine.” Claire opens her door and slides out of the car.
Unbuckling myself, I’m about to get out of the car and run after her when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Fuck!
I fish the sleek device out of my pocket and unlock it. Markus’ name flashes across the screen, and I know I can’t ignore the call, not even if I wanted to. Pressing the green answer key, I bring the phone to my ear.
“Yes,” I say, hoping I can keep the annoyance hidden from my voice.
“Meet me in fifteen minutes at the same place we used last time.” He ends the call, leaving no room for discussion, knowing that I’ll be there.
Looking up, I catch Claire and her father disappearing inside the house. Shit. I can’t make Markus wait. I’ll have to take care of Claire when I get back. At least she’s home now and away from the fuckers at the park.
Knowing she’ll be safe and content until I get back, I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway, and head toward the warehouses in the industrial park.
The blood in my veins hums, and my finger slides over the trigger. The man is pleading for his life; a slew of excuses for not having the money he owes Julian fills the space. It’s hard to feel sorry for someone when you know the type of person they are. It’s not like this man borrowed money to care for his family. No, his debts are from gambling and using whores. His begging falls on deaf ears. Neither of us cares. We’re here to finish the job.
Markus gives me the head nod. I pull the trigger, keeping the gun steady in my hand. I don’t even blink in the time it takes for the bullet to whizz through the air and hit the fucker right between his eyes. The man’s eyes go vacant, and he slouches forward in the chair.
The sound echoes through the warehouse for seconds after life leaves his body. This is the way it is sometimes. One day you’re hunting someone down for a debt that’s owed, and the next, you’re putting a bullet in their head. It doesn’t matter to me what I have to do. That might be harsh, but that’s the reality of it.
I’m here because killing is something I like to do, and the paycheck isn’t bad either.
Markus turns, looking from the lifeless body and to me. “I’ll call for a cleanup crew and let the boss know the job is done.”
I nod and tuck my gun back into my pants. The first time I killed someone, I didn’t even blink, didn’t even feel a sliver of remorse. I knew then that I was made for this job. Since I’m eager to get back to Claire and explain to her father what was going on, I leave before the cleanup crew arrives.
The drive back home leaves me on edge, and I go a few miles over the speed limit to get to the house a little faster. I’m not sure what it is about Claire that makes me care so much. Part of me knows that it has to do with her being alone all the time. I know what it feels like to be alone as a kid, not to have anyone. I don’t want that for her.
Even if she refuses to tell me, I know there is more going on than she lets on. The bruises on her wrists are proof of that. Why is her father not protecting her from those punks?
At the reminder, I squeeze the steering wheel a little harder. She’s just a kid and doesn’t deserve to endure that shit. He is supposed to protect her.
When I finally pull into my driveway, relief floods my veins. I put the SUV in park and kill the engine before opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air. My feet have just touched the ground, my spine barely straight when a scream pierces the air that has every hair on my body standing on end.
The sound causes something inside of me to snap, and in an instant, I know that Claire needs me. My vision becomes blurry, and I lose myself in the rage that consumes me.
I have to save her, protect her, at any cost.
6
Claire
Pain. I feel it in every cell of my body.
Pain is all I can think of as I lie on the floor, unable to get up. I try to make sense of what is happening. Why is my dad so angry? Why is he hurting me so badly? Is he going to kill me?
All the questions swirl in my head, but the pain won’t let me think.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Who he is?” My father spits, confusing me even more. “He is going to tell his boss where I am. He is going to kill me because I can’t pay back the money. Is that what you want, Claire? You
want me dead?”
I try to shake my head, to tell him no, but as soon as I move, a sharp pain shoots down my neck. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so raw from crying out for help. My lips are dry and cracked, and I can taste the coppery ting of blood on my tongue.
“This is all your fault. Everything was great before you were born. Your mother loved me. We were happy, and then you had to come along.” He says it like I chose to be here.
My father paces through the room, a beer bottle in his hand. I follow him with my eyes since that’s the only part I feel like I can actually move without pain.
I want to tell him that I’m sorry, beg him to forgive me and stop hurting me, but my body is so weak. Everything hurts, and all I want to do is close my eyes and go to sleep.
“You destroyed my life!” my father yells.
My eyes fly back open just in time to see the beer bottle fly my way. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to turn away, but my movement is too sluggish. The bottle hits me in the side of the head, the glass shattering around me.
Agonizing pain erupts inside my head, like a million little bombs going off, crushing my skull and turning my brain to shreds. The room starts to spin around me, and all I can hear is a loud ringing in my ear.
My vision goes blurry, but something in the back of my mind is telling me to hold on, to keep fighting. Forcing myself to blink and keep my eyes open, I stare up at the ceiling and try to think of anything but the pain. There’s a loud pop in my ear, and the pressure is so great, it feels like my head is going to explode.
Above me, my father slams his fist against the side of my head, saliva clings to my skin as he spits words of hate at me. I feel something warm trickling down the side of my face. One more punch, and I can’t contain the scream that’s been building in my throat this entire time.
Fracturing like a piece of glass, I don’t even recognize the sound that escapes me. I let my eyes drift closed then, the darkness becomes a comforting balm.