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Jackson
Istand in theshadows.
Staring at the drug deal happening in front of me, I take particular attention to the dealer who’s scamming the customer, overpricing, and undersupplying. It’s a vicious cycle and we’ve been watching the guy for a while, but today will be his final warning.
I’ve been givenstrictinstruction not to kill the guy. Fuck him up, sure. But leave him with his life still intact.
We’re getting word that people are getting angry with our dealers and not wanting to work with us anymore, all because this stupid fuck wants the extra cash, or maybe the power knowing he’s screwing people over.
I watch the dealer take the money and hand over a small baggie—too small—of cocaine. The man doesn’t give it a second look, pocketing it and giving him a wave. He’ll go home and take it out, realizing that it’s much smaller than it should be. But by the time he notices this, it’ll be too late. At that point he’ll have been ghosted and won’t be able to get ahold of the dealer.
When the customer turns the corner onto the main street, the dealer takes out the money and counts it, cocky smile pasted on his face like the Joker. I sneer, disgusted, and then smile when he starts walking this way.
Perfect.
He’s making this way too easy.
I’m hiding behind a nearby dumpster, but when he gets within reach, I reach out and grab onto his arm, pulling him back and slamming him against the dumpster wall.
“W-what the fuck!” The guy screams, his eyes going wide as saucers as his head bangs across the metal. “Who are you?”
I don’t speak. Instead, I stare into his bloodshot eyes and I immediately know where the extra dope is going.
I slam my head forward, crashing my forehead into his. I’m almost positive I can hear his brain ricochet around in his skull.
“Dude.” He grabs onto the side of his head and winces. “What do you want?”
When I smell the strong scent of urine, my lips crank up into a smile. I wish Easton were here. We always have a good time when we have a pisser. He’s been training all day for his fight tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve been at The Pit. Since Cara told me she was pregnant, really. Easton has fought a few times since then, but I’ve been so wrapped up in Cara, I haven’t gone.
It’s going to feel good. Like going home.
Rose was able to convince Cara to go to The Pit tonight. She didn’t want to go, because she’s weeks away from delivery and doesn’t even like to leave the house at this point unless she’s going to the doctor.
When I walked out of her house yesterday and told her I’m not going to let her give the baby up, I was dead serious. I just hope I can convince her to do the right thing.
“Please.” The dude slurs this time and when I look into his eyes, I see the dilated pupils, signaling concussion.
Woops. Must have hit him too hard.
I cock my fist back and punch him in the spleen. He sputters, curling into himself like a turtle into his shell. He tries to protect himself, folding his arms over his head.
Grabbing him by the shirt, I pull him and shove him onto the ground. He lets out a pathetic cry as he slides on the concrete, his skin eating the pavement.
I lift up one of his feet, pulling him back towards me. One hand on his heel and one covering his toes, I turn my hand as quick and far as possible, hearing the break echo in the loud alleyway. He howls in pain, pleading for mercy where he deserves none. I have nothing to offer him, no forgiveness, and no mercy.
I only deliver the punishment.Nothing more.
“Why are you doing this? I’ll give you anything, I promise! You want money? My dope?” He pleads into the pavement, sobbing through the fear and what I’m sure is the throbbing in his ankle. I run my fingers along his foot, and I nearly cringe myself when I feel the protruding bone popping out of his ankle.
He howls when I touch it.
Yikes. I think the guy is going to pass out from the pain soon.
I grab onto his shoulder and flip him over, his face wet and filled with sweat and tears. His eyes are unfocused, delirious from the pain. I slap him lightly in the cheek, trying to get his focus back to me.
When he squints and looks up at me, fear floods back to his eyes. “P-please.” He whispers. “Please.”
I grab onto his hand and lay it flat on the pavement. My body trembles with exhilaration and excitement. I haven’t been on a job by myself for a long time. It feels good, to do things at my pace, my way, on my time.
