the way free. I couldn’t have her escaping. That was the best bit, seeing her nailed down with blood gushing down her naked body from her head wound. But, guess what?”
Francisco didn’t say a word. He looked at his family, and closed his eyes to block out the horror before him.
“She still didn’t cry, just stared at me, and watched me too. Gave up on the nail release and just stared me out. I admired her then, and I could have beat myself off to it, but I decided not to. I wasn’t ever going to get sexual gratification from that whore ever again.”
The intruder stood up and walked away to the counter behind the De Goya family and picked something up. Then he turned back. He held up his hand.
Dangling from it was a human arm, just bone, clear of flesh and sinew. It was snapped at the forearm, nearer the elbow then the wrist, still barely attached. He swung it like a medal or a bribe to a kid. A sick grin lit up his face.
“She screamed when I did this, I finally got her to admit defeat. Man, I was proud of that, when she finally admitted she was the loser, that I was right. Ever seen a woman, nailed to a chair, covered in blood, with one arm snapped, and still struggling about? There are no words to describe it. I reckon it’s better than sex.”
Francisco was worn down now. He felt nauseous and sick and vile and dirty and was close to tears once again. None came, but his senses remained an afterthought. It was as if he was a puppet to all of them equally, none giving him any leeway to perform to any of them to the full.
“Please, just let.....let them go.....do whatever you want to me.....not them.”
“Oh no, I'm sorry, lad.”
“Just let us go!”
“Let me tell you this, Francisco De Goya, you’re not going anywhere, my son, and neither are Amy or Sadie, okay?”
“How the fuck?”
“Do you really think that if I can kill my wife with no qualms at all, that I'm going to reconsider you and your pathetic family?”
“Please....it’s not too late....”
“Just so you know, the pigs won’t be saving you, your wife and kid won’t be getting a funeral, and you certainly won’t be found once I'm done with you.”
“Let them go, please....I’m begging you!”
“Francisco, the only way any of you are getting out of here is in a fucking body bag.”
“You fuck, you sick fuck, fuck you! "
“Choose one.”
“Fuck you...”
“Choose one, your wife or your kid. Which one will live?”
“Huh? What?”
“You fucking heard!” The monster’s tone became deeper.
“I can’t choose that.”
“But you will.”
“I won’t choose, fuck you! Why should I believe you?”
The intruder pulled a gun from his belt and placed it against Sadie’s forehead. Her eyes looked up, the first motion she had made for several minutes. He clicked the gun’s hammer back.
Francisco was silent.
“What? Don’t, please, I'm begging you!”
“Choose, you Spic sonofabitch.”
“ Why are you doing this? ”
“Choose!”
***
The final man was smiling.
He thought he should make a note of it, because he never smiled, at least this was the first time in years that he could remember doing so.
On his screen, he was watching a masterpiece develop before him. He was hooked on every minute of it. It had developed better than he could have ever imagined in his wildest dreams.
He swallowed a couple of Vicodin tablets and continued watching.
He was in first place, and he didn’t see that anyone was likely to beat him.
FOURTEEN
Rupert knew something was wrong the second he stepped out of the shower.
The minute his wet foot landed on the bath-side rug and started to dry he sensed something was wrong, there was an eerie atmosphere. He’d showered, he estimated, for a good twenty minutes, he wanted to make sure the dirt and grime from the day’s escapades was fully gone. He had scrubbed his fingernails with a wire brush, washed his hair three times and soaped himself all over four
Francisco didn’t say a word. He looked at his family, and closed his eyes to block out the horror before him.
“She still didn’t cry, just stared at me, and watched me too. Gave up on the nail release and just stared me out. I admired her then, and I could have beat myself off to it, but I decided not to. I wasn’t ever going to get sexual gratification from that whore ever again.”
The intruder stood up and walked away to the counter behind the De Goya family and picked something up. Then he turned back. He held up his hand.
Dangling from it was a human arm, just bone, clear of flesh and sinew. It was snapped at the forearm, nearer the elbow then the wrist, still barely attached. He swung it like a medal or a bribe to a kid. A sick grin lit up his face.
“She screamed when I did this, I finally got her to admit defeat. Man, I was proud of that, when she finally admitted she was the loser, that I was right. Ever seen a woman, nailed to a chair, covered in blood, with one arm snapped, and still struggling about? There are no words to describe it. I reckon it’s better than sex.”
Francisco was worn down now. He felt nauseous and sick and vile and dirty and was close to tears once again. None came, but his senses remained an afterthought. It was as if he was a puppet to all of them equally, none giving him any leeway to perform to any of them to the full.
“Please, just let.....let them go.....do whatever you want to me.....not them.”
“Oh no, I'm sorry, lad.”
“Just let us go!”
“Let me tell you this, Francisco De Goya, you’re not going anywhere, my son, and neither are Amy or Sadie, okay?”
“How the fuck?”
“Do you really think that if I can kill my wife with no qualms at all, that I'm going to reconsider you and your pathetic family?”
“Please....it’s not too late....”
“Just so you know, the pigs won’t be saving you, your wife and kid won’t be getting a funeral, and you certainly won’t be found once I'm done with you.”
“Let them go, please....I’m begging you!”
“Francisco, the only way any of you are getting out of here is in a fucking body bag.”
“You fuck, you sick fuck, fuck you! "
“Choose one.”
“Fuck you...”
“Choose one, your wife or your kid. Which one will live?”
“Huh? What?”
“You fucking heard!” The monster’s tone became deeper.
“I can’t choose that.”
“But you will.”
“I won’t choose, fuck you! Why should I believe you?”
The intruder pulled a gun from his belt and placed it against Sadie’s forehead. Her eyes looked up, the first motion she had made for several minutes. He clicked the gun’s hammer back.
Francisco was silent.
“What? Don’t, please, I'm begging you!”
“Choose, you Spic sonofabitch.”
“ Why are you doing this? ”
“Choose!”
***
The final man was smiling.
He thought he should make a note of it, because he never smiled, at least this was the first time in years that he could remember doing so.
On his screen, he was watching a masterpiece develop before him. He was hooked on every minute of it. It had developed better than he could have ever imagined in his wildest dreams.
He swallowed a couple of Vicodin tablets and continued watching.
He was in first place, and he didn’t see that anyone was likely to beat him.
FOURTEEN
Rupert knew something was wrong the second he stepped out of the shower.
The minute his wet foot landed on the bath-side rug and started to dry he sensed something was wrong, there was an eerie atmosphere. He’d showered, he estimated, for a good twenty minutes, he wanted to make sure the dirt and grime from the day’s escapades was fully gone. He had scrubbed his fingernails with a wire brush, washed his hair three times and soaped himself all over four
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