Page 39 of Burn For Me

I was pretty sure this guy was Hog since he had a cartoon tattoo of a pig on his bare arm. Grabbing his face in my hand, I stared at the face that had hurt Dora by violating her home. She was a sweet woman who would’ve given him money if he’d asked, but instead, he damaged her house and made her feel unsafe. And from what the officers had said, this was not a single event of desperation. This was how this fucker got his kicks.

“Now you’re going to see how I get my kicks, Hog.” I let his head drop to the concrete with a thud.

As soon as his hands, feet, and mouth were secured, I picked up the ax and my knife. My body shuddered with adrenaline and excitement as I stepped into the corridor and marched toward the bright lights of the field. The two remaining Dickwads were sitting under one of the goal posts, their back to me as they sucked on the end of thick joints. A football was sitting between them, and a case of beer on either side.

“What the fuck do you want now,” my dad bellowed from his recliner.

I held out my textbook and pointed to the math problem I’d been struggling with for over an hour. “I…I… need help with my math Dad.”

My head rocked forward as a hand cracked across the back of my head, but I held back the tears that pricked my eyes.

“Can’t you see I’m watching my football game, boy?”

My eyes flicked up to the television. The team he was watching was wearing red and white uniforms. I didn’t see the excitement in the game, but Dad loved it.

“But, I have a test tomorrow,” I said, my voice sounding weak.

“Does that look like it’s my fucking problem? Go bug your mother!” My dad reached out, grabbed me by the T-shirt, and gave me a hard shove. Stumbling backward, I fell and hit my head on the wall, my tooth biting deep into my lip. It hurt so much, but I knew better than to cry. Crying meant I’d be punished.

My feet didn’t make a sound as I stepped up behind the men. They had sprawled out with their eyes closed and seemed to be enjoying themselves. Probably from the effects of the weed they were smoking. The unmistakable skunk smell permeated the air.

“Hey man, don’t be a fucker. You’re blocking my rays,” Dickwad Number One snickered as he opened his eyes and tried to stare up at my face.

I was using the lights at my back to shade my face from his gaze. Using the blunt end of the ax, I raised it over my head and dickwad’s face twisted from humor to fear a moment before I brought the thick piece of metal down into the center of his face. As his skull caved inward, blood hit his buddy, who hadn’t been paying attention. This should be a teaching moment to teens everywhere that drugs really did kill.

Dickwad Number Two yelled and wiped his face.

“What the fuck? Did you just spit on me?” His eyes snapped open, and he looked over at his friend.

It took a few seconds for his brain to register the carnage that greeted him. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind as his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. As his drug-induced haze lifted enough for him to understand what had happened, he began hysterically screaming. That shit was like a lullaby to my ears.

Stepping over the body of Dickwad One, I stalked him. He tried to get up and run, but his impaired state, the shock of the situation, and the fucking stupid pants that were below his ass all held him to the turf floor.

“Go ahead and get up. I’ll give you a head start,” I said and stopped walking.

The guy, who seemed to be in his twenties and the youngest of the group, scrambled to his feet and started to run for the red exit sign. I pulled the knife attached to my belt and lined up the throw. With a loud heave, the knife flew end over end until it lodged itself in the man’s back just below his ribs.

Fuckin yeah, bullseye.

Having nothing better to do on the farm other than throwing knives at wood blocks for entertainment actually paid off.

His legs comically froze mid-stride, and he crashed onto the fake grass face first. His body skidded along for a few feet until he came to a stop. He whimpered as I approached his hand, uselessly trying to grab the blade. It was a painful and debilitating spot to hit, especially when you were not accustomed to pain like I was, but it wouldn’t kill him right away.

Reaching down, I grabbed Dickwad Two by the legs and dragged him like a cart behind me. Once I got his body across the field, he was once more lying beside his dead friend.

Pulling the blade roughly from his back, he screamed and then wailed as I brought the long hunting knife down with enough force that it stuck to the bone in his leg. It took a bit of wiggling, but I managed to jerk it free before repeating the action to the man’s second leg. I made sure not to sever any major arteries. I didn’t want him to bleed out. Yet. I’d already killed two of them much quicker than I’d wanted.

The song “Whistling Dixie” came to mind, and I proceeded to whistle the tune as I made my way back down the tunnel to grab all my supplies. Then I quickly returned for the asshole that was just beginning to wake up.

It brought my heart joy to have Hog worm around and thrash as he tried to yell for help. I didn’t stop walking until he was under the crossbar of the goal posts. I tossed the blue rope up and over, attached one end of the rope to his feet, and then crouched low as I hauled the fucker up, so he was hanging upside down.

Holding him in place and getting the rope tied took a few tries. Hog may have ‘accidentally’ hit his head off the ground a few times, making me smile. Once he was in position, I stalked toward Dickwad Number Two, who was crawling in different horror movie poses across the fake grass, leaving a red trail of blood in his wake.

“No, no, please,” the guy begged as I once more dragged his ass back to the goal post. Using the leftover end of the rope, I tied it around his chest and between his legs, easily avoiding his wildly swinging arms. Man, he swore with a plethora of swear words I’d never heard. I was sweating by the time Dickwad was in position and wandered over to yank the tape off of Hog’s mouth.

“Why the fuck are you doing this, man? I don’t know you. I got no beef with you,” Hog asked.

“Did you rob an old farmhouse tonight?” I said, and Hog tried to hide the reaction, but I saw it in his eyes.