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Never mind the cops, what I want to know is, how did these fuckers find me? I’m discreet when I leave the house. Okay, I’ll admit, I’ve been slacking off lately but as far as I know, my fucking neighbors are mostly at work anyway. Right? Did I fuck up? I don’t have time to think about that as I watch the number of men in my yard multiply. Fuck, this might be the day I die. I toss the towel aside and drag on a pair of leggings and a tank top before running to the bathroom to grab a pistol.
Boom! I hear my door being kicked in as I watch it on camera. My stomach hurts and I curse under my breath as I close my eyes, count to three and start making my way through the house, watching their every movement. A few men take the stairs at once but they don’t know my house as well as I do. I duck away back into one of my spare bedrooms and watch as they walk through my hallway with guns, kicking open the doors. Fuck. They’re about to get to the one I’m in. I’m going to be so mad that they’re ruining my home if I live through this! The door to the room I’m in flies open and slaps me in the face.
One of the fuckers steps forward and I swipe out, without giving myself even a second longer to breathe, slicing into his neck. It’s too early to use the gun now, especially when there are so many more to be taken down. I watch my camera and count about fifteen men, about ten of which are upstairs, searching different bedrooms, pulling off mattresses and flipping over beds, busting into closets. I keep my back against the wall so I can watch on either side of me as I move through the hallway, creeping into one of the bedrooms and avoiding the mirrors as I come up behind another one, jamming my blade in his kidneys. As he falls to his knees, groaning, I grab him by the neck and slit his throat so I can stop him from making any fucking noise.
They can only look under so many beds and in so many closets until they leave the bedrooms and when they do, they’re going to notice the dead bodies and smeared blood on the carpet as they walk past these rooms. I have to move fast. I’ve got eight more to take down before I move on to the rest of the guys. I can take the last five on at once. I just have to lessen the number of opponents first. I hop from one room to the other, moving with lightning speed made possible by the drug in my veins and I take them down one by one, killing the last one with a gun, knowing this will bring the others to me.
The clumping of boots ascend the stairs as I stay hidden in the shadow at the top. They run past me and I shoot the last one to come up the stairs in the back, prompting the rest to turn around and open fire. I’m careful not to waste bullets, jumping out of the way and ducking as bullets fly my way, hoping that they’re not as careful although I’m sure they'll have refills at the ready. Shit. Fuck. I don’t. Damn it. They caught me off guard. Okay, I can’t keep ducking and rolling. I’m going to have to fire and hope for the best. It’s just four of them left anyway. I’m pretty confident about my chances of leaving this alive.
I hide behind a wall, jumping out to shoot when a bullet flies past my eyes. I feel the wind of it on my nose. That was TOO fucking close. It’s crazy but I have to find a way to bring myself to some sort of stillness. It’s what I’ve learned in martial arts. It’ll enable me to hear where the bullets are coming from as soon as they leave the gun. I fight against the meth inside of me telling me to run out in the hallway, spraying bullets. I’m not the only one with big guns, they’ve got some machine guns on them too. Damn it, if only I could get to my smoke grenades but they’re all the way in my bedroom. Why didn’t I grab them?!
I take a deep breath and decide that my fate is no longer mine to control at this moment. I may live or I may die but I will not surrender. I listen for the direction of the bullets before laying on my side and launching myself out with my legs, aiming my gun at their chests. They don’t expect me to be on the ground and I use that moment of shock to my advantage, taking only a second to fire, reload and fire again, managing to get two in the chest, the other two in the shoulder, disabling their gun hand. I move fast to shoot the other shoulder before they can switch hands and their guns fall. I jump to my feet and despite the bullets in their shoulders, they’re still ready to fight. I run forward, kicking the weapons to the side and taking the back of my gun to jam it into the shoulder of one, pulling the trigger and blasting the head of another.
There’s only one left now and I drop my gun, sure that taking him down will be easy. After he talks.
“Who sent you?” I ask him.
He roars and charges. I move out of the way as he runs into the wall.
“I thought I got rid of you fuckers but obviously, there are more of you. I need names. Who sent you?” I ask him as he turns around, pushing past the bleeding of his shoulders to square up.
He speaks but I don’t know what the fuck he’s saying. “Ah, fuck. Great. The fucker speaks Russian,” I say as I grip my karambit and get into my snake pose. I mean, he doesn’t serve a purpose if he can’t tell me what I need to know but I guess I’ll entertain his foolishness since he seems to think he can fight me.
He throws a punch, gritting his teeth against the pain and I dodge it, striking my left hand out to hit him in the wound. I don’t stop there, I shove my finger in the hole, fucking it open wider, feeling his skin rip against mine as he yells in pain. I push it deeper as he sinks to his knees. There, standing over him, I ask, “So you really don’t speak English?” trying one last time to get some information from him. He spits at me.
“That’s not very respectful, is it?” I ask as my right hand comes up to puncture his neck.
He falls and I’ve got to say, I’m re-energized. The tiredness from earlier has fallen away but as I look around my house, I groan at the mess. In a flash of rage, I decide to make the mess worse for myself by using my blade to remove his head. Blood pours from his neck, soaking my cream-colored carpet making me realize that perhaps that wasn’t the smartest decision. I have no clue how I am going to get that out.
I kick his head away and go searching for the dead man in the suit and when I find him, I crouch down next to him, sticking my hands in all his pockets. “How did you find out where I live, huh?” I ask, speaking to myself. “Aha! Let’s see if I can find anything on this shit. Hopefullyyoufucking speak English.”
With heavy breathing, I tap the screen only to find that the fucking thing is locked. How do I get into this shit? Calder used to be the one who used to help me with stuff like this.
I swipe the top of my arm against my forehead, being sure to keep my bloody hand away from my face as I sit my ass on the floor in contemplation when I remember that these fucking teenagers are always on their phone as soon as they get some time for themselves. Maybe they’ll fucking know how to unlock this shit. I return to the bathroom where I had been taking a bath earlier and rinse the blood from my arms, drying it on a towel before retrieving my phone to call Jaya.
“Hey, I’m going to need you to come over. I need your help with something,” I tell her. “Come through the back door.”
I make my way downstairs to shut the front door from neighbors’ eyes, only to find that the glass is shattered. Fucking shit fuck! I storm to the back of the house to wait for her arrival.
It doesn’t take her long to get here since she’s not working the day shift. She hurries around the back to find me there where I shove the phone in her hand. “Julissa, I saw the front door! What happened?!” she gasps.
“I thought I told you to come at the back!” I yell, unsure why I’m yelling. I mean, my home was just broken into and I almost died so that could be one reason why.
“Pretty hard to miss since I parked at the front,” she says, waiting for my response to her question.
I can feel the anxiety coming on as being questioned about it makes it hard for me to pretend that there aren’t fifteen dead men in my home at the moment and I don’t know if the neighbors heard the shots, if there are more coming and how the hell I’m going to discard these bodies. I press against my forehead to ease the tension. “The mafia. They know where I live. The evidence is in the house but that’s not my main concern. What I want to know is who sent them and I want to send them a message of my own.”
She understands and says nothing more before heading back to her car to retrieve her laptop to go about figuring out whatever she needs to figure out. While she’s doing that, I’m on the back porch sitting in chairs I never use with cobwebs between the legs and little spiders, hypersensitive to every sound and shuffle of breeze as I try to keep my gun hidden from view.
I want to sing a song of gratitude and fucking dance when she comes around the corner with her laptop in one hand and my phone in the other. “It’s unlocked,” she assures me.
I rip the phone from her hands and start looking through the last sent messages. None of the messages say anything about me, at least not at first glance. Jaya stands over my shoulder, looking into the phone when she says, “I recognize that. It’s a code. Except I can’t remember what it means.”
I’m stressed. “You think you can crack it?” I ask her.
“I can try,” she says as she takes a seat in the other webby chair and opens her laptop again.
Her fingers tap, tap, tap away and it grates on my nerves as I find it difficult to sit still. I get up, grunting in frustration and she ignores me, seeming to block me out as she’s sucked into the light of her computer screen.
