Davie wanted to make her see sense, but managed only to choke on a mouthful of words that never formed into sentences.
“You’re in a mess and you know it,” Rebecca said. “You don’t want any of this, do you? You don’t want to end up a worthless thug like your brother.”
“Shut up,” Davie told her. “I won’t hear you talk shit about Frankie.”
Rebecca shook her head at him in a way he did not like. It looked like pity. “Stop defending him, Davie. You’re not like him, I can tell. You’re a good person.”
Davie ran both hands through his hair and let out a long breath. His head still ached and now he felt dizzy as well. The banging and shouting from upstairs didn’t help the situation. How had things gotten so crazy? Did it start when he was hit by Andrew’s car, or was the whole turn of events inevitable even before that? Davie had a feeling that Andrew and Frankie were destined to reach this point regardless. He just hoped his involvement hadn’t made things worse.
“Let us go,” Rebecca said calmly. “This is the point where you decide whether you want to be part of this or not. If you let us go now then it will be clear that you just got caught up in something. Keep us here, though, and you’re proving that you’re as happy to go along with this as the others.”
Davie stared down at the carpet, focusing on a chunk of browning cod meat jutting out from beneath the sofa. He thought about things long and hard. “He’ll kill me if I help you. You’ll have him arrested and when he gets out he will literally kill me. Frankie is all I have so why would I want to make him hate me?”
Rebecca stared at him with deep, soulful eyes. “Because you know that this is wrong, Davie.”
Davie nodded. He didn’t want to see Rebecca get hurt – in fact he could hardly bear it. “Okay,” he said in a hushed whisper, already regretting what he was about to do. “Get out of here. Quickly, before I change my mind.”
Rebecca put her arms around Davie and squeezed him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear. Then she stood up and grabbed her mother’s hand. “Come on, mum.” Rebecca tugged hard at her mother’s arm, trying to snap her out of the daze she was in. “We can go and get help now. We can call the police and save dad.”
Davie knew the decision he’d just made was the right one – could tell by the love and concern Rebecca had for her parents – but it didn’t make him feel any less apprehensive. Frankie was indeed going to kill him.
Rebecca managed to get her mother standing despite the woman’s hands and feet being bound, and was now looking down at Davie with an expression he wasn’t used to. It looked like compassion. “I’ll make sure the police know that you had nothing to do with this,” she told him. “You should get out of here, too, before Frankie comes back dow-“
Andrew crashed through the living room door and sprawled onto the carpet beside the sofa. His hands were covered in blood, as were his jeans and shirt. Frankie came through the door immediately after him – followed by Shell and the twins – and swung a massive kick into his midsection.
Andrew was silent as the blow crushed his ribs and sent him struggling for breath on his back. Covered by blood and swollen in the face, he looked more dead than alive. Frankie looked around and noticed that Rebecca and her mother were standing. Davie swallowed a lump in his throat as he waited for his brother’s reaction.
“Sit down, bitches,” Frankie ordered them. He didn’t seem suspicious. Perhaps he assumed they’d stood up in surprise when Andrew had crashed into the room.
Rebecca did not sit down as instructed and instead lunged right at Frankie with her fingernails pointed out like claws. There was a deep-red lump already growing on Frankie’s forehead and Rebecca added to the wound by gouging two long furrows into the flesh of his cheek. The scratches began to bleed instantly, but Frankie reacted fast. He punched Rebecca hard in her stomach, doubling her over in agony, and then he shoved her to the ground. He made it look as effortless as discarding a piece of rubbish.
“Tie this slag up,” he ordered the twins before looking at Davie and scowling. “What the fuck, man? You were meant to be keeping these two under control.”
“I’m sorry. I was just distracted by the way you all burst in. I’m sorry.”
Frankie let his expression soften and walked over to him. Wrapping his hand around Davie’s head and pulling him close, forehead to forehead, he told him not to worry. “Don’t sweat it, little bro. No harm done. You just keep watching my back like you always do and nothing will ever hurt me. You’re my good-luck charm.”
Davie hoped that wasn’t true, but was glad that his brother was not angry with him. He decided it best to help get things back under control again. Any chance that the women had of escaping was now gone and there would be no point crossing his brother anymore. Andrew’s wife was standing around aimlessly so Davie eased her back down onto the sofa. Then he knelt down beside Rebecca on the floor.
She was lying on her side, breathing in and out rapidly. Davie waited a few moments until she had managed to calm down. Then he placed a hand around the soft warm flesh of her shoulder and started to lift her. “Let’s get back on the sofa. If you’re quiet Frankie should leave you alone.”
Rebecca said nothing, but she rolled herself up onto her knees and got back to her feet. She was unable to straighten up completely and moved in a stooped-over gait.
Dom and Jordan came over with the duct tape. “Get her on her feet, Davie.”
“She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure she behaves from now on.”
Dom shook his head. “Get her on her fucking feet, Davie. You heard your brother.”
Davie glanced at Rebecca who stared back at him sadly. He couldn’t tell for sure, but something about the way she looked at him suggested that she understood he had no choice in the matter. He hoped she knew that.
Davie reached forward and pulled up Rebecca’s feet. They were small, with perfect little toes painted a deep purple. He had to force himself not to gaze further up her naked legs. Davie knew little about women, but he knew not to stare.
Dom got to work, wrapping the silver duct tape around Rebecca’s ankles so tight that it made her wince. After he was done with her legs, Dom had Davie grab her wrists while he trussed them up as well.
“Do the bitch’s mouth,” said Frankie from the other side of the room. He was busy getting an unconscious Andrew back into the armchair. Michelle was helping him.
“No worries,” said Dom, happily tearing off another thick wad of tape and forcing it over Rebecca’s mouth.
Jordan came forward to join his brother and squeezed one of the Rebecca’s breasts. She tried to cry out in pain but could only mumble from behind the tape. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take it off later when we have a good use for your mouth.”
Davie wanted to slap Jordan for saying such a horrid thing to her, but knew that he would just take a clobbering. He couldn’t take Dom or Jordan on his best day and their worst – and especially not with a concussion and a stomach that kept threatening to purge itself.
“Okay,” said Frankie, clapping his hands together. “Everybody nice and settled again?”
No one said anything, but all turned in his direction.
“Good,” Frankie nodded. “Then I think this would be a good time to explain to everyone what happens when people don’t follow my rules.” He turned to Andrew and patted him on both cheeks. “Stay with us, hero. I was about to tell your women about what a fine display you put on up there.”
“What happened?” Davie asked, knowing that the answer wouldn’t be anything good.
“What happened, little bro, is that this gangster right here took a pole to my skull. Fair play, I say, but it never did him no good in the end. My knife was mightier than his pole.”
Rebecca moaned beneath the tape on her mouth and Davie matched her reaction by stretching his eyes wide. “You stabbed him?”
Frankie shrugged. “Had no choice. Guy was out of control and needed putting down.”
/>
“We need to go, Frankie. This is getting bad.”
“Shut the hell up, Davie,” said Michelle from Frankie’s side. “You’re such a downer all the time.”
Unusually, Frankie did not jump to his brother’s defence, which Davie took as a bad sign. “Okay,” he said, changing tact. “What now then?”
Frankie smiled at him. “Glad you asked. What we’re going to do now is show Andrew the error of his ways. Man took a chunk out of my forehead then tried to take out Dom and Jordan. I think he needs to pay for that.”
“You already stabbed him,” said Davie.
“That was just to detain him. If the police catch you and give you a kicking you still go to court afterwards. They don’t take the beating required to subdue you as the punishment for the crime.”
“Yeah,” said Dom. “He still needs to be put on trial.”
“And so here we are,” said Frankie, gushing with amusement, “to preside over the people versus Mr Andrew…whatever the fuck his name is.”
“What are the charges?” asked Michelle, playing along with the charade.
“Kiddie-fiddling, goat-shagging, and the crime of thinking his shit don’t stink.”
“How do you find?” asked Jordan, laughing till he was out of breath.
Frankie held a finger in the air to silence the room. He seemed deep in thought. Suddenly he thrust his finger at the floor and screamed the word, “GUILTY!”
“What is his punishment?” asked Dom gleefully.
Frankie put his hands together and placed his fingertips under his nose as if trying to gain guidance from God himself. “Through the power invested in me by the courts, I sentence this wicked man to a slow and lingering death…by torture.”
Torture – Davie repeated the word in his head three times. Then he threw up.
Chapter Seventeen
“You okay, man?” Frankie had moved over to rub Davie’s back while he continued to be sick.
Davie spat a wad of saliva onto the carpet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think so. Just came over me all of a sudden.”
“Must be the concussion,” Frankie suggested. “Don’t worry, though. He’s going to pay for what he did to you.”
Davie shook his head and looked up at his brother. “I just want to go. I feel rough. Need to go to bed. This bandage is on my head for a reason.”
Frankie examined him for several seconds then nodded. “Okay, Davie. We’ll get you home to rest.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Frankie smiled at him warmly. “Just as soon as I’m done here. I’m about to finish up anyway.”
Davie took some deep breaths and tried to calm his stomach before he spoke. “Finish up?”
Frankie leant closer and whispered in Davie’s ear. “Got to get rid of the witnesses.”
“No way,” said Davie. “You can’t be serious.” He leant forward and lowered his voice so that only Frankie could hear the question he was about to ask. “You’re not really going to kill anybody, are you?”
Frankie looked at Davie and nodded very slowly, very seriously. The cold cubes of ice that were his brother’s eyes chilled Davie to the bone. He finally realised that he no longer knew the person standing in front of him. Something had changed inside of Frankie when he went away – or was it that he came back with something missing?
What the hell happened to you in that youth home, Frankie? What the hell screwed you up this badly? You were never like this before. You were just my big brother and that was enough.
“I don’t want to kill anybody,” said Davie, tears forming in his eyes.
“You don’t have to, little bro. Leave it all up to me. Haven’t I always looked after you?”
Davie nodded. The urge to vomit was rising up from his guts and he fought hard to contain it.
“This is getting boring, Frankie. Let’s fuck something up.” It was Michelle. The sound of her voice was like a squealing pig to Davie’s ears. If someone really was about to die, Davie wished it could be her.
“Shut the hell up, you coked-up whore,” Davie shouted at her.
Michelle marched forward and grabbed a hold of Frankie’s arm. “You going to let the little wanker talk to me like that?”
Frankie shrugged away from her grasp and turned to Davie. He let out a short laugh but looked deadly serious. “You got to learn to play nice, man. That was out of line, you get me?”
“Is that it!” said Michelle, stamping her feet and waving her arms like an outraged cartoon character.
Frankie slapped Michelle hard across the face. It wasn’t enough to injure her but had enough force to knock her to the ground. “How many fucking times have I told you to leave it out, you skinny cunt?”
Michelle fell to the floor and cowered, raising her arms up to deflect any further blows. “I…I’m sorry, baby. Please…”
Frankie clicked his fingers at her. “Get up and be quiet. You give my brother shit one more time and I’ll end you.”
Michelle nodded and hurried away to the far side of the room. Davie noticed that Dom and Jordan were sat watching the television again but were keeping one eye on the argument and giggling between themselves.
Davie shook his head. You’re all just a bunch of crack heads.
Frankie rubbed his hands together. “It’s getting cold in here so I’m going to go and put the heating on. When I get back it will be time to carry out sentencing. Dom, Jordan, sort your shit out and wake up. You’re sat watching the snooker championships and giggling your bloody arses off like it’s the funniest thing you ever saw.”
Dom and Jordan suddenly looked like naughty children and struggled to their feet quickly. Frankie left the room and Michelle ran after him, no doubt to fawn over him and try to make up. Davie sat down on the sofa between the women and worried about their fates.
A garbled murmur let those in the room know that Andrew had regained consciousness. He was looking across the room at Davie through swollen eyelids.
No, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at his family.
“Everything will be okay,” Davie told Andrew, hating himself for lying. “We’re all leaving soon.”
“Yeah,” said Dom, “after we deal with your pasty, white ass.”
“Why…why do you follow him?” Andrew asked. Davie wasn’t sure who the question was directed at specifically, but he figured it was a valid question for all of them.
“We don’t follow no one,” said Jordan. “We just hang with Frankie ‘cus he’s got the supply.”
“So you help him terrorise innocent people just because he feeds you drugs?”
“That about sums it up, blud.” Jordan snickered. “Sucks for you, huh, whitey?”
Andrew laughed – it was a thick, throaty sound, full of derision. “I think it sucks for you…that you let another man own your ass. You’re all just Frankie’s bitches.” Andrew started to laugh harder, despite the obvious difficulty he had taking in air through his crumpled nose. Dom and Jordan looked furious, but were apparently lost for words. It wasn’t very often anyone had the balls to sound off at the twins and Davie couldn’t help but stifle a secret grin.
Frankie re-entered the room, carrying a tea towel wrapped around something. He moved to the centre of the room and placed the tea towel on the coffee table, unravelling it to reveal a set of various-sized knives, a corkscrew, screwdriver, and a pair of pliers.
“What are those for?” asked Davie, already knowing the answer.
Frankie glared at him. “Enough with the questions. You’re giving me such a headache that I might end up being the one with concussion.”
Dom came over and looked down at the assorted implements. He whistled. “Shit’s going to get real, huh? I dig that.”
Frankie picked up a small, stainless-steel blade and examined the edge with the pad of his thumb. When he was satisfied with its sharpness, he sauntered over towards Andrew, waving it back and forth.
“You ready for sentencing, old man?”
Andrew lifted his head and looked Frankie in the eye. There was no fear in his expression; only a weariness that could have been acceptance. Davie held his breath as he waited for what was to come.
This is going to be bad.
Frankie pointed the knife in Andrew’s face. “Swallowed your fucking tongue?”
Andrew spat; a mixture of blood and saliva that hit Frankie right in his face.
Frankie’s twitch went into overdrive and it suddenly occurred to Davie that his brother never had the facial tic before he went inside. It was just one more thing that didn’t make any sense.
Frankie placed the blade against the flesh below Andrew’s left eye. “You going to wish you never did that, gangster. Nobody disses me and walks away.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” said Andrew. He sounded calm, but his breathing was quickening and his voice was unsteady.
“We’ll see how much of a fuck you don’t give, old man.” Frankie removed the knife from Andrew’s face and marched over to the sofa so that he was standing directly behind Penelope. “You positive I can’t make you care?”
Andrew’s swollen eyes widened. “Don’t!”
“Don’t what?” said Frankie. “Don’t do this?”
Frankie drew the blade across the side of Penelope’s face, drawing a slick line of blood as he flayed open her flesh. At first she remained silent, still trapped by whatever daze imprisoned her, but then she snapped back to reality, letting out a high-pitched screech that could have cracked crystal. Frankie wrapped a hand around her mouth and stifled her.
From beside Davie, Rebecca struggled to get free. He had to put both hands on her to keep her in place. He wasn’t trying to help Frankie; he was trying to keep her from getting hurt as well.
“Thought you didn’t give a fuck?” Frankie said to Andrew as he etched another long slice across Penelope’s face. “Looks like you care now!”
No one said anything, the air tense enough to carry electric. Frankie continued gagging Penelope with his hand as he flayed open her skin. She shook and trembled the whole time.
Frankie finally released her, cricked his neck to one side and shuddered. “Damn, that was fun.”
ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror Page 12