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Authors: Helena Newbury
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groaning. The other one was backing away from me, his face deathly pale. I started to advance towards him, table by table.
“You’re right in the middle of Malone’s territory,” I told them. Then I swung the hammer again splitting the next table in two and sending a light shade skittering away across the room. “That was very fuckin’ stupid.”
The guy put his hand out towards me, still backing away. “Look,” he said quickly. “We can make a deal.” I pegged his accent as Central Europe. Serbian or Croatian or something like that—it didn’t really matter.
I swung the hammer again, this time going sideways and demolishing the legs of three tables at once. The table tops and plants crashed down and the floor became a carpet of dirt and leaves. I could feel the plants scrunch under my boots as I walked towards him. Everyone I crushed helped me vent a little more of my anger, but it did more than that: it savagely silenced the voices that had been taunting me from inside. The only thing I’m good at is smashing shit up? Fine. Then watch how good I am.
“Tell Malone we’ll pay!” said the one I’d hit. His voice was a labored croak.
“We’ll pay!” agreed the other one. He was still trying to back away, but then he ran out of room, his back against a dresser. I knew he probably had a weapon in there, a knife or a gun. They always do. And they always think they can buy me off. But once someone’s hired me, I’m loyal.
The guy next to the dresser finally managed to get a knife out of its hiding place. A big ugly thing with a six inch blade. He held it up in front of him defiantly.
I advanced on him again, the hammer resting casually on my shoulder. “Put it down,” I told him.
Instead, he shoved it towards me, slicing at the air. “I’ll fucking cut you!” he shrieked, his voice cracking in fear.
I took another step towards him. He pressed back against the dresser, his face deathly pale, swiping the knife in vicious little arcs to keep me away.
I gripped the hammer and started to swing it back....
The knife fell from his fingers. His legs wilted and he slumped to the floor on his ass, his hands up in front of his face. “Please!” he begged.
He’d come to rest with his legs splayed. I swung back the hammer and I saw his mouth drop open in horror as he realized what I was about to do. His scream filled the air as the hammer whistled down right between his legs.
There was a crunch of wood and the head buried itself in the cheap floorboards between his thighs. I’d aimed it so perfectly, the top of the head was just brushing his balls. He stared at the hammer, speechless with relief.
I smash things. Sometimes I have to hurt people. But I’m not a sadist.
My voice was calm, the anger gone. “You ever grow in this neighborhood again,” I told him, “and next time it’ll be an inch higher.”
I waited for him to nod. Then I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out into the street. When I’d dragged his friend out as well, I took the little bottle of gasoline from my pocket and emptied it over the debris, then lit a match and threw it in. By the time I was halfway back to my car, the whole house was burning.
I should have felt good. I should have felt like hitting a bar—that was my normal routine, after finishing a job. But I didn’t. All I could think about was Louise. I’d vented the anger but the anger, it turned out, was the easy part. Now it had blown away, I could see where it had come from: that throbbing wound inside me that had been left when I let her down.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d given a shit about anyone. But I was really starting to care about this girl.
Sean
I didn’t see her again for a few days. Then, one evening, I came down the stairs to find her in the lobby, struggling towards the elevator.
She had two huge white plastic sacks in her arms, gathered to her chest like twin babies, and she was
“You’re right in the middle of Malone’s territory,” I told them. Then I swung the hammer again splitting the next table in two and sending a light shade skittering away across the room. “That was very fuckin’ stupid.”
The guy put his hand out towards me, still backing away. “Look,” he said quickly. “We can make a deal.” I pegged his accent as Central Europe. Serbian or Croatian or something like that—it didn’t really matter.
I swung the hammer again, this time going sideways and demolishing the legs of three tables at once. The table tops and plants crashed down and the floor became a carpet of dirt and leaves. I could feel the plants scrunch under my boots as I walked towards him. Everyone I crushed helped me vent a little more of my anger, but it did more than that: it savagely silenced the voices that had been taunting me from inside. The only thing I’m good at is smashing shit up? Fine. Then watch how good I am.
“Tell Malone we’ll pay!” said the one I’d hit. His voice was a labored croak.
“We’ll pay!” agreed the other one. He was still trying to back away, but then he ran out of room, his back against a dresser. I knew he probably had a weapon in there, a knife or a gun. They always do. And they always think they can buy me off. But once someone’s hired me, I’m loyal.
The guy next to the dresser finally managed to get a knife out of its hiding place. A big ugly thing with a six inch blade. He held it up in front of him defiantly.
I advanced on him again, the hammer resting casually on my shoulder. “Put it down,” I told him.
Instead, he shoved it towards me, slicing at the air. “I’ll fucking cut you!” he shrieked, his voice cracking in fear.
I took another step towards him. He pressed back against the dresser, his face deathly pale, swiping the knife in vicious little arcs to keep me away.
I gripped the hammer and started to swing it back....
The knife fell from his fingers. His legs wilted and he slumped to the floor on his ass, his hands up in front of his face. “Please!” he begged.
He’d come to rest with his legs splayed. I swung back the hammer and I saw his mouth drop open in horror as he realized what I was about to do. His scream filled the air as the hammer whistled down right between his legs.
There was a crunch of wood and the head buried itself in the cheap floorboards between his thighs. I’d aimed it so perfectly, the top of the head was just brushing his balls. He stared at the hammer, speechless with relief.
I smash things. Sometimes I have to hurt people. But I’m not a sadist.
My voice was calm, the anger gone. “You ever grow in this neighborhood again,” I told him, “and next time it’ll be an inch higher.”
I waited for him to nod. Then I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out into the street. When I’d dragged his friend out as well, I took the little bottle of gasoline from my pocket and emptied it over the debris, then lit a match and threw it in. By the time I was halfway back to my car, the whole house was burning.
I should have felt good. I should have felt like hitting a bar—that was my normal routine, after finishing a job. But I didn’t. All I could think about was Louise. I’d vented the anger but the anger, it turned out, was the easy part. Now it had blown away, I could see where it had come from: that throbbing wound inside me that had been left when I let her down.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d given a shit about anyone. But I was really starting to care about this girl.
Sean
I didn’t see her again for a few days. Then, one evening, I came down the stairs to find her in the lobby, struggling towards the elevator.
She had two huge white plastic sacks in her arms, gathered to her chest like twin babies, and she was
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