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“You are a disgrace. You don’t deserve them,” Mother reprimands.
It’s time I cleaned up the mess I made. I needed to retrace my steps that night to everyone that saw us together. My first stop, of course, was Ace’s night club.
Ace’s prides itself on being selective and secure, yet I easily slipped in the back door and found a free room to lay my trap. I once again cut the cameras inside the building.
“Don’t worry. You go on home. I’ll get this guy out,” The man I’m here for says.
The door opens slowly, but I remain in my place. The padded sound of footsteps make their way over to me.
“Hey man, you got to get up,” The bouncer from that night five years ago, Curtis, says. He smacks my foot, trying to get me to wake up. I remain in my current state, not moving.
“Fuck, I don’t feel like this shit right now,” he grumbles before coming to where my head is lying on the other end of the bed. “Big guy, you have to—”
His words are cut off when I spring up from the bed. I grab his neck and bring him down to me. He puts up a small fight, but I use the chloroform I placed on the pillow that covers his face to knock him out.
The moment he stops fighting, I push him to the floor and get up from my spot. Going over to the door, I shut and lock it.
Sunday nights are the only nights Ace’s closes at 2am. The cleaning crew isn’t due until 9 in the morning.
Glancing down at my watch, I note that I have approximately six hours to get all the information I need from Curtis.
I get moving to prepare the room. Pulling my duffle from under the bed, I grab the plastic tarp from the bag and spread it out on the bed. Once I have the surface covered, I hoist Curtis on my shoulder and drop him on top.
Then, I use the duct tape in my bag to secure his arms and legs to the four posts on each end of the bed.
Making my job even easier, I cut his clothes off leaving him in nothing but his boxers.
“The good book says, we must defend the weak and the fatherless. You must protect them.”
“Yes mother,” I reply, before waking Curtis with the smelling salts.
He comes awake abruptly. He attempts to move his arms, but immediately realizes something is wrong. He turns his head, looking up from his position to see the tape securing his arms in place.
“What the fuck?” he mutters, tugging against his restraints.
“Five years ago, I came in here with a girl.”
“Fuck you, man,” he shouts so hard that spittle flies from his mouth.
Letting out a sigh, my shoulders drop. I was hoping this would go by faster. Bending down, I pull the sledgehammer out of my duffle. Raising the tool over my head I bring it down onto Curtis’s kneecaps. The sickening crunch of bone precedes his scream. The acidic smell of piss fills the room before his gray boxer briefs take on a darker color in the front.
I allow him a few minutes to gain control of himself. His cries turn from screams to loud whimpers.
“Now, five years ago—”
“Mother fucker,” Curtis shouts cutting me off. “I don’t remember shit five years ago.” He starts to cry again; snot and tears mix on his face.
I start again. “Five years ago,” his sobs get louder, nearly drowning out my words. “I came in here with a girl you knew named Summer.”
I watch as realization dawns and his eyes widen briefly. The cries immediately die down. His body slumps into the mattress as he shakes his head and wets his lips.
“I didn’t tell him anything. I swear, man. I didn’t say anything.”
“He’s lying,” Mother snarls. “He who utters lies is treacherous.”
“He isn’t,” Priest says in my head. “Look at the way he’s looking directly at you. And how his body sags in relief. He didn’t tell.”
Placing my sledgehammer down at my feet and leaning it against the side of the bed, I give Curtis my full attention back.
