The panic stricken line of faces momentarily thins around Albert. Smoke rises to the sky in the distance but his eyes go blurry. Something unseen weakens him. It is as though the very earth beneath his feet is trying to fall away from him. There’s a bus stop bench. Albert slumps on the bench. His conscience has weighed him down. Thinking back to the Police Station where he sat and thought back to the sight of those innocent, lifeless eyes. His stomach churns just like it did that night.
Albert had stood in the entrance to the meat locker. Staring at the girl he immediately felt his hand going for his gun. His gun, like an eraser, could clean the sight from the world, but not from his mind.
The blood splattered wall, table and floor. This sweet Angel had every limb free but one. Her right arm, pale as death, was locked tight into a table vice. The vice was bolted to a butchers counter. The rest of her body slumps on the floor in a pool of her own blood. Albert could see her left arm without a hand white from blood loss. A rectangle with tiny diamond indentations permanently pressed into her wrists. A long, grey, plaid skirt, with white stockings and a matching white school shirt. . Her hair was tied back yet appeared disheveled. She was blindfolded with a piece of cloth ripped from the back of her own shirt. Her head hanged low as she sobbed in pain.
Albert took in the sight of her. He took his hand from his gun and knelt next to her. She could sense that he was there.
“Who is that?” She cried words broken. “Please… I can… I can’t… take anymore.”
“You’re not going to.” Albert spoke so softly he surprised even himself.
Walter stood in the doorway. Surprised by the sight before him, though he felt differently about it then Albert. Showing this kid mercy? Why?
Albert spun the crank of the vice and her right arm came free. Stained with the same bruise as the left she leaned into Albert for comfort. Albert lifted his arms in confusion at first but then wrapped his arms around her. His enormous left hand eventually gripped softly her right shoulder and his right hand held her head against his chest. His black trench coat draped the floor behind him like a cape. Walter saw this and couldn’t help himself.
“You want to hold her hand too, Al?”
The girl lifted her head and began to scream aloud. Tears strolled down to her open mouth. Albert turned his head and saw a smile on Walters face.
You’re not human, Albert thought.
The girl let her screams subside from lack of strength to continue and put her head on his chest this time raising her chin a little. Albert turned back to her and looked directly down into the soaked white cloth covering her eyes. She opened her mouth and whispered softly to Albert, “I want my Daddy…. Please.”
I’m afraid I can not…” Albert whispered back. Did she not know shy?
Another single tear came out from under the right side of her blindfold. She knows now.
“Kill me.”
Albert didn’t want to do it. But then he considered that if he didn’t, his employer would have him killed in manner much messier then the young woman in his arms then.
“Kill me please. I… I can’t l-l-l-live like this.”
“…”
Albert looked at the bloody stumps where her hands should be. She’ll never recover from this, He told himself. She’ll be in therapy for years, but every time she does something with a pair of hooks her mind will bring her back to this night. She’ll cry for all the wrong reasons cause of this when she tries to dance again. A man will never ask her to spend her life with him while presenting a ring. She’ll never be able to hold her own child. Oh, God… What can I do?
“Kill me…”
I can’t.
Albert let his left arm slip from her right side and threw the back of his coat to the right. Resting in the back of his pants at the base of his spine a 9mm. Walter could see this and wanted to stop Albert. Albert held the gun in front of him for a second. He heard Walter take one step forward and then pointed the gun at Walter…
Click off the safety.
Click!
Slide the bullet into the chamber.
Ka-Click!
Shoot the bastard. Let the girl hear him die. Just… pull the trigger.
Walter appeared unafraid. Before him knelt on the ground by the butchers table was Albert. In his right arm, the girl with no hands, in his left hand a gun pointed at Walter’s forehead. Albert’s eyes were hateful and rested on either side of the gun barrel from Walter’s perspective. This changes everything.
Ease the trigger back. Breath. Let every child he has done this to have their revenge.
“Please kill me.” She whispered half-dead already.
Albert turned his head back to the girl. The gun followed as if by itself.
“What do you think your doing?” Walter said loudly.
Albert simultaneously turned his head and saw the anger show through on Walters face. He also let his right hand fall to the floor. Her head balanced for a moment on the barrel of the gun. Albert closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The sound rang out like cannon fired instead.
Her pain was over. She was gone.
This was a difficult chapter for me to write. I almost did not want to do it. But in the first draft of this story this part was just Albert thinking about it to himself and a line that read, "Walter is one sick child-killing S.O.B." The story needed more, you know?
ReplyDeleteI read the story and thought Albert needs an earth-shattering reason to go to the police commissioner. Chapter 9 serves duel purpose of a motivation for the character Albert and turning point in the story for me, the author.