41. Retribution
Just like we predicted, Addams asks Maggie, the person who coordinates sex work at Rouge, for “someone young and inexperienced.”
Being in close proximity with a man like him has ants crawling all over my body and I can’t wait to get the Earth rid of him.
My skin itches.
I will need to take three showers just to remove his residual energy from my skin. One to scrub my skin raw, one to clean the shower walls themselves and one to enjoy the sensations of the water rolling on my body.
I crack my neck left and right; trying to get comfortable in my body once more. My muscles are tight and ready to snap. My fist on my free hand clenches three times before I tap my leg with my index finger, three times. My left foot follows. Three taps.
I stand in front of booth 13’s door and take a deep inhale, hold, then release before I turn the handle and enter. Addams’s back is turned, the perfect posture. I move quickly and hold him in a jiujitsu choke hold that puts him to sleep in seconds. The needle in my pocket is supposed to be a guarantee, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. While he’s unconscious, I inject him with Propofol, a sedative-hypnotic agent commonly used to induce general anaesthesia and very easy to acquire.
With Andrea’s help, I move his body to my car and drive him to the stables on our property. It’s a converted space and serves dark purposes only. Fully soundproof, it has all I’m going to need for the next few hours.
“Before you get started, I’m getting something from our esteemed guest,” Andrea says next to me.
Addams is slumped on a chair, tied to it with metal and ropes while the chair itself is locked down to the concrete floor with chains. He won’t be escaping his fate.
Andrea takes a machete off the wall where it rests and walks intently towards our guest. I don’t need to watch his face for hints of his emotions to know what he will do. I know my brother well enough, and his demeanour is all vengeance.
There’s no taunting, no waking up Addams before my brother brings the machete down on Addams’s right wrist, slicing the hand clean off. Blood erupts at the same time as Addams’s cries reverberate on the walls around us.
I stay well away. I don’t want his blood to touch me. My brother doesn’t have the same compunction. He’s a messy killer. I click my tongue at his barbaric methods. Blood spraying like this means more bleach and I don’t like to over-use it.
“Did you think I was like you? Using people for pleasure? And did you think you could touch my wife and I wouldn’t get my pound of flesh owed?” Andrea asks, his voice booming.
Addams isn’t able to make sense of what my brother is saying, pain the only constant in his body. His nervous system is trying to help him stave off the pain, rendering his brain useless. I’m gonna need to clean the wound and wait until he can speak if I want to get anything out of him, now.
“Andrea, that’s enough,” I tell him.
He’s never rattled; he’s always been the beacon of light in my bloodlust, the tether to myself and my home, but I can feel him fraying. I was comatose and on the brink of death when Giulia got hurt. I don’t need to know the details to know what happened to her. Watching her slink away in the shadows these past few weeks was enough.
Andrea nods, then asks me, “Can I trust you to get what we need?”
He doesn’t doubt my capacity to get information, nor my violence but his question reveals how much he knows me. He’s not the only one who needs to take out his frustration and hatred on someone. And Addams is my perfect victim.
I force my eyes to close, willing the images of fire and death away, focusing only on the bright silver specks behind my eyelids.
“Yes.”
Andrea leaves, taking the cut off hand with him and placing it inside one of the barrels for disposal.
I thrive on stability and in this life, there is none to find. I compensate with deep controlling behaviours. The only times I feel really safe are when I know where my family is at all times, or when I’m at the club I frequent in London. Both Andrea and my mother have trackers on their phones. And now, Andrea gave me access to Giulia’s ring.
My thoughts threaten to spiral again. I was with her when she was hurt. I couldn’t protect her.
I check my phone and watch the coloured dots associated with the three most important people in my life. I like that there are three now. The number soothes me. Andrea’s green dot is moving to his cottage, where the red dot associated with Giulia is. The yellow one for my mother is safe and sound at her house.
I keep my eyes closed for another moment, breathing heavily through the nose and out through the nose. The trick is to exhale longer than the inhale to deceive the nervous system into thinking the environment around is safe.
That’s the biggest fucking joke, but I need something to pretend I’m normal.
Opening my eyes, the sterile room slowly comes into focus. Concrete surrounds me and in the middle of all that grey that I hate but can’t live without is Addams.
I remove my tee-shirt and unbutton my jeans before I bend over to remove those too and my boxers in one swoop. When I’m naked, Addams starts to shuffle and plead for mercy, adrenaline shooting inside his system, probably thinking of all the ways I could abuse his body just like he does with his purchases.
My head tilts to the side as I observe his wiggling body. I haven’t even started, and he’s already pissed himself, urine pouring under him and mixing with the small puddle of blood already cooling on the floor, the stench heavy enough to cover the bleach scent of the room.
“I’m not the same type of monster you are, Mr. Addams,” I say coldly.
I walk to the closet on the side of the room and fold my clothes into a neat pile on the middle shelf, then retrieve a thick painter’s suit. Being the enforcer in the Capaldi family for the past seven years should have been enough for me to get used to blood. It hasn’t.
Once my body is enveloped in the suit, I pull on the mask that will protect my face while still enabling me to see what I’m doing properly, and donne the hood of the suit over my hair. The thin powder-free nitrile gloves come on next.
I take my time to clean his wound. With precise movement, I cut through his clothes and discard them, leaving him naked on the chair.
A powerful trick for the mind. The human brain hates vulnerability and there isn’t a stronger symbol for it than nakedness.
I go back to my station and Addam’s eyes track my every move.
I see myself in the mirror that faces my work station and my target’s wiggling body. I’ve seen the image a hundred times, but I’m sure it looks terrifying to the first-time observer. There are never second time viewers.
I approach Addams with one of my favoured knives and in silence, I start to carve. Shallow enough so it won’t hurt, just sting, but enough for him to bleed and watch as the crimson colour flows to create a unique pattern over his skin in the mirror.
He wiggles again, and the knife sinks deeper than I want into his flesh.
“If you keep moving, I’ll hurt you.” I click my tongue.
“You’re gonna hurt me, anyway. I know what they say about you. You’re a freak, a killer!”
My hands stop, and I look up at him. “You know who I am? Curious.”
I’m never in the public eye, Andrea and I make sure of that. Of course, being who we are, people know I exist but no pictures are ever taken of me and if there are, we erase them easily. To know who I am, to know the rumours about me, you’d have to have contacts with the underbelly of West Hill or London.
“I know where you go to get pussy. I can get you more, I can get you anything you want. Your brother can’t,” Addams spews.
Pleading. I’m not totally impartial to it. It’s usually when I learn more about the people who grace these walls. Or rather, this ceiling. The thought draws a lift to the left corner of my mouth.
“You know where I go to get pussy?” I repeat.
This is even less common knowledge. As much as violence tames the constant memory in my head and the raging fire inside me, that place feels like it gives me something more.
I don’t get pussy there, though. Not that Addams needs to know that.
“Yes, yes! I work with powerful people. People who can get you anything you want,” Addams says fast, like the words can’t come out of his mouth fast enough.
I feign considering his offer, the blade in my hand hovering over his body in a show of incertitude. “Go on.”
“He can get you who you want. Someone has stricken your fancy? Just give me a picture and he’ll get her for you. Or him, or whoever, I don’t know, man. Just give me a name.”
I could give him the name of an elder, a child, boy, girl, and he wouldn’t care. He’d just give them to me to save his miserable life. I’m sure he’d even take pleasure in it.
His perversity knows no bounds if he considers just snatching any person out of the streets just so I can get them as my property or pet. I pride myself on controlling my facial expressions well. It was a friend who burnt our home and killed my father so I make sure no one ever does know what I feel or think. I only trust a handful of people and none are in this room with me, so I keep my face emotionless.
Addams’s breathing kicks up, mistaking my lack of movement for approval and permission to go on. He licks his lips and his eyes take on a bright shine that speaks of his excitement at bringing someone new into the fold.
“There’s someone you want. I can see it in your eyes,” he says.
There is. But she’s far from here, and I’d never kidnap her to make her my toy. That’s not even the role I play.
I go along with the vile thoughts of the evil man chained to my work room. “What if there is?”
“You give me the name, I’ll reach out to my contact. Within a week or two, we’ll deliver the package to the place of your choice. Andrea will never know. I swear I won’t talk.”
“What if she isn’t in the country?” I ask, just to see how far it goes and toss him a glimmer of hope that he will, in fact, walk free.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Your contact? Can I trust him?”
“Yes, yes, of course. He’s the best at what he does. He’s been doing it for years. Release me, let me go and you’ll get what you want.”
I feign musing it over. I turn my back to him and pace. Really, I just wait for him to tell me more. I don’t have to wait long.
“He’s a big player, and he’s not from here, so he won’t talk about you. It will also go through me, so he won’t have to know of your involvement,” Addams explains.
“I don’t trust strangers.” My tone is bored, but I let my tongue scrape across my teeth and frown lightly, going back to pacing. Patience is key. With slippery people like him, paranoid men who prey on the weak, they’re usually the weakest of them all. Which means once I know what he has to say, I can duct-tape his mouth and get to work instead of hours to extract information.
With Giulia’s abduction, I don’t feel creativity sparking through my brain to torture. I just want to maim and cut him to tiny pieces until I can feed the pigs. Or grind him into dust. My mind wanders to disposal solutions when Addams speaks again.
“He’s the pakhan of the Moscow Bratva. Please, release me. If you want someone from anywhere, he’ll get them,” he cries, fat tears falling on his cheeks.
I grunt, a non-committal sound escaping my mouth.
“Our circle is small. One person is chosen for each country as a supplier so you won’t have any issues.”
A real smile spreads over my face and Addams mirrors me, his head bobbing up and down with hope and relief.
“Do you even know why you’re here, Addams?” I ask suddenly.
“Because Capaldi wants my business. And you’re here to take over. But you’re gonna release me now.”
I blink. Once, Twice. Three times.
“No.”
The word is cold and resonates into the room.
“I’m your judge and executioner, and I’m sentencing you to die.”
The duct-tape goes on his mouth and fear stains his brown eyes. It morphs into horror as I put on Sleep Token and worship at the altar of death for the next hour.