He is no longer eight years old.
His parents are long dead.
The last of his family was murdered in front of him.
He and Nancy have been taken as hostages.
They were beaten.
Nancy betrayed him.
4. Felipe
At first, Felipe wanted nothing to do with Rafiq’s mess. He’s never met Rafiq’s apprentice Caleb, and has not once felt inclined. But things change. Powerful men get older and rest on their laurels. Felipe has always been patient in waiting for these moments. Moments like this one.
He can use this young man to get information on Caleb. There’s plenty Felipe already knows, but one can never know too much about their allies or enemies—especially as one can often become the other, the enemy of my enemy and all that.
So when Rafiq asked—quite imposingly—if Caleb could make use of Felipe’s plantation, he acquiesced. Had he known Caleb was going to allow his kidnapped slave to escape and cause her captor to slaughter three men, start a fire, take two hostages, and bring them to Felipe’s house in Tuxtepec—his home—he may have been less gracious. It’s been two days and Caleb has yet to arrive with Kitten. The men Caleb sent ahead of himself have been occupying themselves with the hostages. It will be their undoing.
It was assumed the boy and his companion were part of the plot to hold Caleb’s slave for ransom and attempted rape, but they have since learned the boy is apparently innocent—of the rape, at least. It’s fortuitous for the young man. His female companion, on the other hand…she isn’t faring so well. Celia abhors rapists with a fervent passion, and she has no sympathy for women who turn a blind eye to the cruel lusts of men. And yet…she wants to subjugate this boy. Celia is a complex woman. Regardless, he won’t deny the young man is… alluring. “Do you know why you’re here?”
5. Kid
Kid can’t suppress his dry sobs. “I don’t know anything!” he yells. The words are barely audible. He’s screamed himself hoarse over the last however many…hours? Days? He thinks he’s been here at least a day or two. Time gets away from him between beatings.
They’re going to kill him soon. He really doesn’t know anything. He’s less than useless—a burden. His kidnappers won’t let him live, not after they’ve already killed so many others. Abe. Joker. His mind shies away from the last name, but his heart throbs with loss anyway. Uncle Tiny.
The man in the room is still speaking, but Kid is too lost in the maze of his frantic thoughts to behave with any bravery. He offers whimpers in place of words. Please don’t let me die like that. At first he’d thought Caleb’s absence a good thing, but Kid quickly learned the men they’d been left with were just as vile. Despite his fear, he attempts to open his eyes only to discover he can’t.
He knows he’s dead already. Isn’t a man allowed to beg for mercy in his final moments? After all, there’s no one left to be ashamed of him.
***
“Jair. Knife.”
Kid can’t even scream. He’s trying. Every sound he attempts is trapped inside him. There’s a gun in his back and a fist in his hair holding him on his knees. His uncle Tiny is only two or three steps away, sprawled face-down on the shitty carpet, blood dripping from his broken nose.
The words register the moment Caleb straddles Tiny’s back and yanks his head back to expose his tense neck. “Jair. Knife.”
Uncle Tiny struggles. It’s over before Kid can scream.
“I warned you, you motherfucker!” Caleb sneers. He’s full of rage and he proves it.
Blood sprays across Caleb’s chest, neck, and face, but the psychopath has enough sense to close his mouth and turn away—but only for the first arch. As he turns back and keeps stabbing, ripping, and separating head from shoulders, Caleb’s eyes never leave their mark—as though he knows the blood will only continue to slow.
Kid still can’t scream. Warmth runs down his left thigh as he watches his uncle’s blood spread out across the floor like living black ooze. You pissed yourself, his mind supplies. He’s surprisingly calm about the whole thing. He’s staring at his uncle’s head and it’s not on his shoulders. That’s so weird. He has a thought about horror movies. All the severed heads he’s seen are suddenly unrealistic. Then he wonders what those thick white pieces holding part of his uncle’s head on are called. Sinew? Where’ve I heard that before? Health class? Is someone screaming? It’s them; it’s all of them: Kid, Abe, Nancy, and even Joker, they’re all screaming.
Caleb smells like hot copper and raw meat. The tip of his knife is suddenly poised beneath Kid’s chin. “Stop screaming or I’ll cut your tongue out.” Kid sucks his lips into his mouth and bites down to muffle himself. He’s dizzy with panic and lack of oxygen. “Now,” Caleb smears Tiny’s blood across Kid’s cheek with the flat side of the blade, “tell me again what happened.”