“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply; those who want to deny the world must have once embraced what they now set on fire.” – Kurt Tucholksy
Jay
Wednesday, September 18th, 2013. 1:45 p.m.
I’m shivering from top to bottom, but I will not cease my search. I have to think of a way to contact my father and hope he’ll forgive me for everything before it’s too late. X is taking his money; I have to warn him. Maybe he’ll take me back.
Now that I remember everything, I realize my father is the only one I have left. Even though he did some pretty disgusting things to me, I remember he once loved me. It’s because of my wildness that he rejected me. I’m different now. Maybe I can still fix things.
After all, I’ve been through hell and back. I think I can handle my father.
In a moment of incredible bravery, something I did not believe I had in me, I pushed X aside and ran. I did it. I succeeded in my goal. I vanished from his life. I’m free of the chains he put on me. The chains that bound my body, mind, soul … and even my heart.
I’m free now, completely free to do as I desire. No more listening. No more doing as he pleases. No more X. No more … nothing.
Just nothing …
Nothing is terrifying.
It doesn’t matter where I go, I can’t escape this anxiety, this feeling of despair. It’s like my heart has been ripped from my chest and splattered apart on the street. I could cry, but I won’t. Not for him. No matter how much my heart wants to. Even though I realize our bond has grown these last few weeks, and that there’s no one who feels as much for me as he does, I won’t allow myself to think about it. Not now. Not ever. I can’t.
Clutching myself, I walk down the streets of Atlanta, having no fucking clue where to go. I didn’t have the courage to ask anyone where I need to be, even though I’ve been wandering around for hours. I’m too scared of what their reaction might be to what I have to say. There’s so much I want to say, but I know that if I did, they’d call me insane. Who’d believe me anyway? Dressed as fancy as I am, nobody would believe I was held captive. Oh no, they’d laugh and send me away, or worse, they’d bring me to the police. No, I should definitely not go there. I’ve killed someone for fuck’s sake. They won’t take that lightly. I’m as much of a criminal as X is.
I check the phone again. Only a few dots remain on the battery. If I had my dad’s phone number I would’ve called him by now, but sadly it’s not in here. Sighing, I struggle along my path, trying to figure out where to go next.
Suddenly, the phone buzzes, and I jolt up from the sound and feeling. It’s a strange sensation when you haven’t used a phone in weeks. When I look at it and see the text message, my heart stops.
Jay. You are free now. His money will pay for the hit on your head, but it needs to be more, so I’ve taken your father hostage. I know you don’t care, but I wanted you to know anyway. Rest assured I will punish him for making you forget everything that was once important to you. Let go of your fear; nobody will follow you anymore. I will kill them all.
X
***
X
Wednesday, September 18th, 2013. 1:19 p.m.
A hole remains where my heart used to be. The last pieces of my soul got chipped away. There’s nothing left. She took what was left of me.
After all these years of torture I realized that real torture means not having her.
And now the volcano of anger inside me is erupting.
Anger takes control of me as I walk toward the stage, looking up at her father through the crowd. She wants me gone? She wants to be free? Fine, but I won’t go out without a bang.
Her father is being bombarded with questions from journalists, eager to know what happened to his recent campaign. I know what happened. Me. He cast away his daughter in the hopes of saving his political career. Instead, what he got was more humiliation than he bargained for. All his fears came to life.
And now another one will be set loose.
I walk into the alley to the side of the building and enter a door that says “NO ENTRY.” There is a girl on the phone behind a desk, and when she spots me she holds up her hand to halt me. I raise my gun and fire away, killing her straight away.
Blood stains her chair as I walk past her and enter the bathroom closest to the front door. There, I position myself behind the door and wait. A few minutes ago, before the press meeting, I slipped a laxative into his drink. I check my clock. It should be no more than five minutes until he’s here. The conference already ended, and he must’ve been jumping up and down for five minutes holding his shit together. Literally.
As the door opens, I raise my gun and point it at the back of his head. When he hears the clicking noise he stops in his tracks.
“You will come with me now,” I say.
“Please, I really need to take a shit, can’t this wait?” he says.
I laugh, grab his collar, and drag him out the door. Oh, he’ll get to shit all right. On himself.
***
Wednesday, September 18th, 2013. 2:17 p.m.
I’ve got him tied to a fence, his face scarred with my knife. The slashes are beautiful, as is his screaming. Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot how much I loved to hear those sounds. Killing is the opposite of sex, but both are so very, very gratifying. It sends shivers down my spine just watching him squirm against the metal. His pants are dark from him shitting himself after I cut off a piece of his ear.
I fish my new phone from my pocket and start texting.
“What are you doing?” the man in front of me mutters.
“I’m letting your daughter know where you are.” He frowns, confused. “I’ve decided I’m going to play the Good Samaritan here and give you a chance to make up with her before you die.”
His lip quivers. “You’re sick.”
I laugh. “Says the man who cared more for his career than his own daughter.”
He spits in my face. Growling, I wipe it off before cracking my knuckles. Then I punch him straight on the nose, breaking it.
He groans, blood dripping from his nose. “Please, no more,” he begs.
I laugh. “Oh, but I’ve only just started.”
He winces. “You’ll pay for this. You and all the other fucking scum on this earth.”
“I think you’ve got that wrong,” I say, drawing another line on his face with my knife. His screams make me smile. “Scum are the ones who taint the young with their evil. Disgusting people like you.” I chuckle. “Do you know what I do to people like you?” I hold up my hands and show him my knuckles, sending him a message. “You belong there, along with all the other fuckers.” I smack him in the face again.
“Fuck you. You’ll die for this,” he spits.
“How, exactly? I already got everything I wanted and nobody knows we’re here.”
“You won’t get away with this,” he snarls.
I punch him in the face, and he groans in pain. His blood feels filthy on my hands, so I wipe it on his clothes. “I already have.”
Smiling, I walk to my laptop, which is lying on an old chair. Torture is not only fun, but a means to an end as well. It was easy to get what I wanted off him. A few minutes ago he gave me the password to his extra bank account in Switzerland.
This fucker will lose everything he ever loved.
There is only one thing I regret, and that is letting her go.
***
Jay
Wednesday, September 18th, 2013. 2:51 p.m.
It’s broad daylight, but I fight to keep my eyes peeled. My legs are tired of running, but giving up is not an option. The warehouse X is keeping my father at is only one block away now. He always takes his victims there.
I run as fast as my legs can take me until I reach a red building with plenty of loading docks, but not a car in sight. At the far left of the premises I see my father tied to a fence. His suit is soaked in blood, and as I come near I notice his face is equally messed up. Scars litter his face, blood running thick.
In shock, I gasp as I approach the scene. X is leaning over a chair, typing on a laptop, too busy to notice someone coming closer. I try to make as little noise as possible as I creep through the fence. When my father turns his head, I have to warn him not to speak. He falls silent immediately, groaning loudly so X won’t hear me. I’m horrified by what X has done, but I can’t let myself get overrun with emotions now. I need to free my father.
But first, a weapon. I need to be able to defend myself.
I look around and find a gun on a ledge nearby, accompanied by an assortment of instruments covered in blood. These must be his ‘toys.’ With soft steps I tread toward them and grasp the gun before quickly darting back to my father.
“Jay,” he whispers as I come close.
“Shh …” I whisper as I fumble with the ropes twisted around his wrists. He looks horrible, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about it. I’m angry at him as well as X, but neither deserves to be treated like an animal. Like they both treated me.
My fingers work meticulously to untie the ropes around his wrists. Once they’re free, I bend over and start on his ankles. My father helps me, but he can barely keep himself standing.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Taking a sharp breath, I get up, turn around and stare right into X’s eyes.
In an instant the gun in my hands points toward him. “Stay away.”
He cocks his head. “Jay … is that a way to greet me?”
“Shut up!” I flick the gun as a threat.
X holds up his hands. “Let’s talk about this, shall we?”
“You lied to me,” I hiss. “You used me. All you wanted was my father’s money, and now you’re even torturing him?”
“No, I did not use you. It sounds as if you care a lot, though.” He smiles. “Can you still honestly say you never loved me at all?”
I swallow away my doubt. “I didn’t.”
He squints. “Liar. You don’t hate me. You didn’t run because of what you saw in those texts. Deep down you knew everything already. You ran because you couldn’t accept the fact that you had already fallen for me.”
“Stop with the bullshit!” I spit. I have no interest in mind games anymore. Not when I’m holding a gun.
“It’s not bullshit,” he says calmly. “I did want to see you suffer. That is in the past now. I love you, and you know that. And I also know you feel the same way.” He purses his lips. “You have to believe me, I’m doing this all for you.”
“Why should I believe you?” I say. “You’re a manipulator. You kill people for a living. How can I ever believe what you say?”
He swallows. “You might not believe me, but you will believe him.” He points at my father.
I frown. “What are you talking about?” I turn toward my father, who begins to shake vigorously.
“Ask him about the sex tape he and the media received. The tape I shot of us.” He grins.
I’m mortified.
“You ruined me!” my father shouts.
“What else did you do?” I ask in shock.
“Oh, I might’ve killed a hooker, then told the cops where the body was and pointed to your father as the murderer. Lucky for me, that girl also had sex with him.” He laughs.
My father’s eyes widen. “You motherfucker …” he mutters.
“You did all that to my father?” I say. “Just because of his money?”
“No, Jay. The money goes to the organization so they’ll be happy. They’ll take the mark off your head, and then you’ll finally be free. Just as you wished.”
My fingers tremble. I can’t believe it. He framed my father so he could get his hands on his money to save me? This is … monstrous.
“Why?”
He frowns, confused. “Do you still not see it, Jay? When the client is gone, the organization has no more job to fulfill, which they won’t like since they don’t get paid. And that’s where I come in.”
“What client?”
“The one who’s after your head.”
“You mean your family,” I retort.
His eyes narrow, and he tilts his head slightly. “No.”
“Your parents wanted me dead. You and I caused them to lose their job twice. Of course they hate me.”
“You’re wrong,” he says harshly.
“You’re lying to me. Again.”
He chuckles. “No, Jay. I killed my parents three years ago.”
Gasping, I grab my coat, because it’s the only thing I have to hold on to right now.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Take my phone from your pocket and check the messages. Since you obviously did a fantastic job at searching through my history, I thought you already knew. This surprises me, Jay.”
“What?” I fish the phone from my pocket, and it almost tumbles to the floor because of my hastiness.
As I scroll through the messages, my father unties his last ankle. I’m trying to keep an eye on both him and X whilst using the phone too. Fucking hell, this is tough. I can’t trust anyone not to stab me in the back. Especially now that X is casually twirling his gun in his hand as some kind of silent threat.
“Want to know who it is that wanted you dead?” X asks as I struggle to find the message fast enough. “Look behind you.”
And then I see the text containing a picture of the contract X stole from Al John. My father’s name is on it.
No. No. No!
My eyes fill with tears as I glance over my shoulder at my father. His expression turns from agony to fear and then to something that resembles intense madness. In a breath he grabs ahold of my arms and pins me to his chest, knocking the air out of me. In a swooping motion, he grasps my gun and pries it from my hand. Before I can blow out my breath my father has the gun pointed at my head.
