by Keta Kendric
“Why do you kill?” I asked, the question finding its way out of the thick cloud of terror I was trapped in. “Is it people you kill for your MC like August does? Is it people that threaten your life?”
“No,” he answered, only offering that one word.
“Why do you kill, Ansel?”
My attempt to calm my voice failed as fear overflowed and spilled into the tone of my shaky words. I needed to know the answer, but at the same time, I was afraid to know.
Ansel had a complicated side that I didn’t understand. The idea of him killing people because he was a sociopath that did it for fun had my leg jumping as it tapped a low beat against the couch.
“I’m a serial killer, Regina. I don’t do it because I have a sick, psycho fetish. I do it because I believe I need to.”
My heart hit the floor and bounced around before it melted into a bloody puddle. My brain screamed for me to get up and run, but with a hole in my chest, I was left sitting there too stunned to move. My mouth dropped open, and my body shook as oxygen turned into unbreathable solids around me.
I couldn’t call forth a single word at Ansel’s confession. This was why he had no problem protecting me. It would guarantee him more kills.
“I bet you’re going to leave me now, huh? Now that you know what kind of monster I am?”
No words came. They’d all melted into my fear as I sat blinking. Hard swallows and deep breaths came and went as I fought to compose myself and remain seated next to someone that had admitted to being a serial killer.
My fingers dug into the tops of my thighs to keep the trembling at bay. My words were forced out past my fear long enough to utter words.
“Why do you believe you have to go out and kill people?” I inquired. Fear engulfed me, shredding my body into strips of meaty flesh. My voice shook, making my words choppy. However, the realist in me kept me sitting and in place.
Being around my family and doing unspeakable acts in the name of Dominquez had hardened me enough to face my fears head-on. It had turned me into the kind of person who was willing to go deeper than the surface, and it was abundantly clear that Ansel had a depth and darkness that had never been breached.
My question surprised him as much as it surprised me. Noticing the hint of confusion on his face nipped at the clouds of fear that had surrounded me.
“Why do you believe you have to go out and kill people?” I repeated. “Did they do something to you? Is it for revenge? Do you do it for satisfaction?”
“Anxiety,” he answered.
His voice was low but held firm to its unapologetic edge.
“Murder is how you deal with your anxiety?” I questioned, my fear seeping away more with each new revelation he revealed. He called it anxiety, but there was something much more complex than anxiety happening with Ansel. For now, he could label it as he saw fit.
“Pills don’t work. Talking to head doctors doesn’t work. I’ve exhausted the traditional ways and nothing but death works.”
I’d somehow found a way to steady my breathing as air escaped in a low hiss from my mouth.
“Ansel, please help me understand what you’re saying. What you’re doing?”
“Why haven’t you called Aaron yet to come and pick you up, Regina?” he asked. There was a pleading in his eyes I’d never seen before. I believe he was afraid of me leaving him, but he’d risked it by telling me about his actions. I pondered my answer to his question, taking my time to think it over.
“I’ve been around you for over a month in total. Other than the first day, I’ve never gotten the vibe that you have a desire to kill me or hurt me. I’m scared, Ansel. Terrified. But, I would also like to understand you. I haven’t called August yet because I’ve seen what he can do, and I don’t believe he’s that much different from you.”
He gazed at me, likely wondering if I was crazy. In a way, I was. I was sitting next to a man with blood on his hand from a fresh kill, one who had admitted that killing was a way for him to deal with what he called anxiety.
“My mind starts to fracture,” he stated in a low tone. “And it feels like I’m losing control of myself. There are always thoughts that I want gone. Ideas and images I don’t want in my head. It’s like I’m drowning in a sea of pain, choking on anguish, coughing up torment, gagging on agony. The worse part about the feeling is the sensation that I’m being dragged down by my own hands. If I stay that way for too long, my body starts to react to what my mind is demanding. It’s like there is a demon inside me scratching and clawing his way out, dragging me under so that he can take over. If I let it drag me under, I believe I’d lose complete control. Killing quiets that beast, keeps it in the cage.”
“So, you just go out and kill people? How often do you do this?” I inquired, sounding more like a journalist interviewing a killer than a woman that should be concerned for her life.
“It’s not just anybody I’m killing. I don’t go out and kill random people. My FBI connection gives me the names of murderers, rapist, child molesters, cases they can’t make stick, people they know that are out there doing heinous shit. And yes, if my MC needs someone dead, I don’t hesitate to take on the job. I don’t believe I’ve killed anyone that didn’t deserve it or didn’t have it coming.”
A sliver of relief ran through me, knowing that he wasn’t out there killing innocent people. However, my fear remained on high.
“There has to be a part of you that knows this is wrong. That you can’t keep killing people.”
“Of course, I know its wrong. But, as far as I’m concerned, I’m doing the world a favor. The man I killed a few hours ago was one of a group tasked to kidnap you. The one I killed before him had raped and killed three women. Because the authorities fucked up the evidence, he got away with it.”
Okay, so maybe I was crazier than Ansel, but he made sense. He had a serious Dexter vibe going, and I wasn’t all that sure it was something that could be fixed. The idea of attempting to understand this part of him terrified me. The idea of me agreeing with parts of how he handled it had me lost in my own head.
How mentally gone was I? Did I belong in a hospital working among sane people and on patients? Should I be allowed to practice medicine as a doctor with this amount of turmoil in my brain? Maybe my family had accomplished their mission of transforming me into a monster like them. Was it the Dominquez blood in me that allowed me to accept the warped reality that most people ran like hell from?
There were secrets within me that I’d go to my grave not telling a soul. I believe Ansel had shared one of his with me. He’d struggled with this. To open up and allow someone to see the messiness inside was one of the most difficult tasks anyone could face.
Staring straight ahead, Ansel sat quiet and unmoving. It was the first time he hadn’t watched me like a hawk.
“It’s like when August killed Sorio,” I started, attempting to bring more understanding into my brain. “When he killed my cousin, Sorio, he saved the world from a man that would continue to wreak havoc, raping women, and torturing people. Sorio killed people no matter if they were bad or good. When August took Megan and me out to your garage and revealed what was left of him, I didn’t regret his death. When you and August and your crews carried out Operation Take Six and killed the heads of my family, I didn’t feel guilt for any of their deaths either.”
“What are you saying, Regina?” He questioned.
“I’m not saying that I understand you, the why or what you go through, but I understand your choice in choosing to kill the predators in this world.”
“Regina, I just revealed to you that I use killing as a form of medicine,” he pointed out.
My body slid closer, glancing into his face. I’d never seen Ansel confused, but my actions had him stumped. I sat my hand over the back of his, but he didn’t respond to my touch.
“I know what you revealed to me, Ansel. I listened to what you’ve divulged. I’ve somewhat digested what you’ve disclosed. I’m not going to preten
d I understand it all. I’m not going to pretend I understand you. But, I get it, Ansel. I get it in a way that may not even be healthy, but I get it. Trust, Ansel. You just gave me a big piece of your trust.”
A flash of a smile surfaced but never met his lips. I do believe I’d stunned the one person that thought himself too arrogant to be shocked or awed. He’d been raised by a racist motorcycle club that killed on a whim. There was no telling what he’d encountered throughout his life. I’d only spent three years with my family and look what it had done to me.
“Will you tell me what made you like this?” I inquired, curious for him to share more of himself with me.
“One day,” he answered. His far-off gaze hinted that it wasn’t a story for the faint at heart. I wanted to know the story, but I was willing to wait for as long as it took for him to tell it.
34
Ansel
How in the hell was Regina sitting here after the bombshell I’d dropped on her? I’d scared her, but she hadn’t run, nor had she judged me. She’d sat there and asked and waited and tried to understand my side of an unbelievably complex situation.
I’d revealed one of my darkest secrets. Surprisingly, my body and mind felt cleansed as relief washed over me for telling someone. The true test would come in a few days when Aaron returned to pick Regina up.
As Regina sat staring like I was some specimen in a lab, I felt the intense need to get the spotlight off me. My fucking problems had problems. My complications had complaints. My damn predicaments had troubles. If I dumped all my shit on Regina at once, she’d damn sure pack her shit and run.
“Since we are talking under the guise of trust, will you tell me what your cousin did to you? I can’t help but think that the reason you’re still sitting here is because of some of the horrible shit he put you through.”
My finger raked the large faded scar on the back of her hand to drive home my point. Regina was a beautiful woman, but she carried as many scars on her body as I did.
Her gaze never met mine. Her shoulders dropped as her body shrunk under my question. I sensed that her cousin had been torturing her. The knife marks on her side and in her back were evidence of it. She’d done a hell of a job at getting them to fade and blend with her natural beautiful tone, but they weren’t invisible. Shit, there wasn’t much of anything I’d missed on this woman.
“Regina,” I called when she turtled herself into a mental shell.
“He…” Her throat bobbed after a hard swallow as she gathered herself. “He was a monster, Ansel.”
She sat back into the couch and crossed her legs. She stared straight ahead like she was pulling strength from whatever she concentrated on.
“The first time I met him, he’d broken into my apartment in the middle of the night.”
A long pause followed her statement before she started up again. I could sense the thoughts swimming around in her brain, ripping their way from her mind.
“Since my father was dead and no longer in the picture, my veil of protection had crumbled. One night I woke up to Sorio sitting on my bed. He’d called me numerous times prior, requesting that I move to Texas and do my duty as a Dominquez. I told him no, had even hung up on him a few times.”
My hand gripped Regina’s thighs. A low gasp escaped when I spun her so that she sat facing me now, her legs remaining folded. I needed to see her face. I wanted to read her expressions. She sat for a paused moment, readying herself to continue.
“When I jumped away from him and started to scream, he back-handed me. At twenty-five, it was the first time I’d been hit. Other than contact from physical education at school, I’d never been in a fight, and my father had never laid a hand on me. Therefore, that first strike from Sorio’s hand had knocked me silly. I sat with my back to my headboard, my body balled into a tight knot as I cupped my busted lip. I didn’t know who he was, so I assumed someone had broken in, and I was about to be raped and killed. He wiped those thoughts from my head when he introduced himself.”
‘You fucking spoiled cunt. I don’t like being hung up on. When I fucking call you and ask you to do something, you fucking do it and don’t give me any backtalk.’
“I immediately knew who I was dealing with. He’d sounded threatening enough over the phone, but there was no way I could have predicted that he’d show up and break into my apartment. The moment he noticed I’d figured out who he was, he continued his sermon.”
‘Daddy isn’t here to protect you anymore, princess. Now, you get to meet the rest of your family. You’re going to be my bitch from now on. I’m giving you a week to get whatever affairs you have in order. Quit your job and bring your ass to Texas like the family has requested. We could use a doctor, and from what I hear, you’re one of those smart bitches.’
“The entire time he talked, I prayed that I was dreaming and that I’d wake up from the nightmare.”
‘Disobey me again, and I don’t care how smart you are, I’m going to teach you how to respect your family. Don’t make me come back because I won’t be as nice as I’m being this time.’
“I didn’t know it then, but Sorio had shown me his good side that night. I’d heard about my family and knew enough to know that they got away with so much crime that they could kill you and you’d never be found. I went to the New York Police Department, but when I revealed my last name and the officers comprehended who was threatening me, I started to get the cold shoulder from the officers. It didn’t take me but a minute to determine that they were as afraid of my family as I was. They’d made empty promises, but I knew that they weren’t going to help me. I didn’t have any other choice, I quit my job and went to Texas.”
I didn’t say a word as I processed Regina’s story. One that I knew was about to get ten times worse if the frown on her face was any indication.
“After I moved to Texas, it took three weeks for me to run. I was caught after being on the run for a week. And like he’d warned, Sorio beat me until he was too tired to lift his hands anymore. I ended up with bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, a busted lip, black eyes, and numerous bruises all over my body. He’d found a way to drain the money from my accounts so that even if I got away, I wouldn’t have a way to take care of myself or have the means to get far.”
She shifted, leaning her body against the back of the couch for support. I may as well have been a damn statue. I was good for listening, killing, or protecting, but I wasn’t much good to anyone for moral support. I’d hired a damn nurse to help me with Megan because I knew I couldn’t give her all the care and support she needed when she thought she’d lost Aaron.
“They had me working and staying in this dingy makeshift hospital room that they had at the back of one of their nightclubs. They had me doing medical procedures that I wasn’t even qualified to do. I’d studied cardiology, but they didn’t care. All they saw was a doctor. I was treating severe gunshot wounds, stab wounds, blunt-force trauma, and even sexually transmitted diseases. You name it, they sent it. Whenever I told them I couldn’t save someone or fix something, I’d get beaten for not knowing. So, in an effort to lessen my physical abuse, I asked for books. Lots and lots of medical books.”
My hand cupped her knee and squeezed, hating that she’d gone through so much pain at the hands of her own fucking family.
“Sorio would show up at random times and hit me for the hell of it. It was his way of reminding me of what he could do to me. He promised that he would make it worse if I ran again. But, I hadn’t learned my lesson. I ran a second time and enjoyed a full month of freedom before they tracked me down. My mistake had been going to the cops. I believe they were the ones that had called my family and alerted them as to where I was.”
My gaze raked over her clenched fists and the tension that lingered at the corners of her eyes. She aimed her gaze at my chest, and her shoulder remained planted against the couch.
“First, Sorio took off his belt and beat me like a mad father disciplining his child. Only, he did it with the buckle
side of the belt. When he took out his pocketknife and started cutting into my back, I knew I was about to die. He ensured his actions were deliberate, taunting me the whole time.”
‘Didn’t I tell you that you’ll be my bitch from now on? When I say fetch, you better go get it. When I say sit, you fall. You do what the fuck I say or suffer the consequences. I’m carving my initials on my bitch. This is going to remind your ass of me every time you look back. Next time, I’m going to carve up your fucking face.’
“I’d read that some victims of abuse learned to get used to the pain. Over the months, Sorio had hit me so many times that I was sure that I’d gotten used to it because the beatings had become tolerable, but he escalated his abuse when he started cutting into my body.”
I took Regina’s hand when her body shook from the straining emotions that started to get the best of her. I didn’t know what else to do. Her calm presence and her good-natured spirit made it difficult to believe she’d had such vile shit done to her.
There was no way I could have anticipated the devastation she’d face or how toxic her reality had been. Tears stood in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall even as her voice grew thick with emotion. She blew out a few steadying breaths before continuing.
“Even after he’d cut me, I wasn’t ready to give up my quest for freedom. And like the two times before, I didn’t know how to stay hidden. The third time, when Sorio got his hands on me…”
She stopped, so filled with racking emotions that she closed her eyes and was either meditating or praying, I didn’t know which. She needed to get this shit out, and her story had stirred my anxiety so badly, I needed to kill some fucking body.
35
Ansel
My anxiety had started to spark fire, and my nerves had sprouted razor blades. As best as I could, I kept my feelings in check for Regina’s sake, as she prepared to finish a story that I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the rest of.