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I take a deep breath. There are two ways I’ve learned to channel the red haze. One, is letting the Beast feed. I allow my mother’s words to fill my head and direct my actions. It’s never pretty when the Beast is loose. The second way I channel the haze is Priest’s way. Get in, get out, get the job done.
The front door opens and one of the men from the living room walks out. He’s on the phone with someone. He turns his back to me and lights a cigarette. Silently, I walk up behind him.
“Are you going to let me come see—” the rest of his words are cut off when my hatchet split the back if his head open.
I yank it out and hold him up by the back of his shirt as I bring the metal edge down into the side of his neck. It lodges in the bone of his shoulder blade.
I pull out my gun from the back of my waistband. Holding the weapon in my right hand, with my left, I use the handle of the ax to drag his body back up the steps to the front door. I step into the house and all eyes turn to me, everyone freezes in shock, which is what I was banking on.
In their moment of confusion, I take in the scene. Everything is as I remembered. Glass beer bottles scatter the living room, and a large flat screen TV is sitting on top of a stand.
One man is to the right of me sitting in a chair, he is the furthest away from the weapons, but closest to the door and escape. He is not an immediate threat. The two men on the couch are closer to the guns. They are a high threat. I scan the three at the table, and only one has a gun at his hip. He is also an immediate threat.
Their moment of confusion wears off. One of the men on the couch leaps up reaching for the TEC-9’s. I toss the guy on my hatchet onto the coffee table causing the wood to splinter. He covers the weapons, slowing down their attempt to reach them.
I move through the living room as I simultaneously fire my weapon taking out the guy at the table with the beretta on his hip.
The most immediate threat has been taking care of. The other two at the table take off running for the back door I’m assuming. I ignore them.
I place a bullet in the throat of the man in the chair that was attempting to run toward the front door. Before he falls, I yank the hatchet out of the neck of the guy on the coffee table.
One of the guys from the couch was finally able to yank the TEC-9 from under his friend. He aims it at my head, but I knock the gun to the side with the ax causing him to spray the TV with his bullets. I place my gun at his forehead and blow a hole in the center.
The other guy that was on the couch tries to make a run to the front door, but my hatchet lands dead center in his back. He drops to the ground and starts to crawl the rest of the way. I make my way over to him and stand over his body. I rip the weapon out his back and put a bullet in his head. I then turn toward the kitchen to where the other two ran off.
I find them ramming against the door trying to get out. Without hesitation, I put a bullet in the side of one of the guys’ head. The other turns to me with tears in his eyes and drops to his knees.
“Ay, man, I’m sorry. I told them not to take that girl. She ain’t even all that cute.”
“How many more?” I ask him.
I didn’t care what he had to say or what he thought of Summer. She is mine. He looks confused at first, but then answers.
“Only two more upstairs with your chick.”
Nodding, I turn to walk away. His audible sigh of relief is short lived. I turn around and toss my hatchet into his head. He slumps against the door with his friend.
I head upstairs.
Summer
“You fucking bitch,” Nic shouts down in my face.
His hand is wrapped around my throat and he’s squeezing the shit out of me. Despite how the situation looks, I’m not worried. I have no doubt Nic is going to kill me tonight, but he’s still too in his feelings right now. I have about another hour of him berating me and kicking my ass before he actually does the deed.
It’s how I got away the last time. He was so caught up on calling me every name in the book that he got distracted and I climbed out the window. No chance of that this time though. We’re not at his other house, where it was only one level.
“It was an accident, Nic.”
He frowns at me. “You think this is about that fucking house?”
Wait, isn’t this what it’s about? I mean, he lost about a hundred grand in drugs that night. He pulls me away from the wall and tosses me on the bed. I hit it like a ball before bouncing off to the floor.
“I fucking loved you, Summer. You told me you were clean.”
Ohhhh. He’s mad about that. When I met Nic, I had just gone through one of my many sober stints. They happened every now and again. I’d hit rock bottom and eventually check myself into rehab for a while. I’d come out and stay clean for about a few months, and then go right back to using. It was a cycle.
When I met Nic, I’d only been out of rehab for two weeks. We were together for four months before the memories and that feeling of spiraling hit me. His friends tried to tell him I was using again, but he didn’t believe them.
