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He’s crying now. His words are thick and gristly, like the garbage left on the edge of a bloody plate. “Please…” he begs again.
How many women begged him for mercy?
Trap wheels him around to face the center of the room.
“Holy shit,” Trap says. I watch him take in the table, the stirrups, the heavy steel bands at the top and bottom of the flat metal surface. He glances toward a rolling cart, tools I’ll only need tonight. Things I can’t trust Leo with, once Trap and I leave. “Sweet fucking Jesus…”
“What?” Leo asks, his voice cracking in terror. “What are you doing to me? Help!” He screams again, the sound bouncing off the flat white ceiling.
Trap closes his hand around Leo’s throat. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls.
Leo doesn’t try to scream again. But his sobs grow louder—heavy, wracking gasps that make his whole body shudder. The stench from his pants burns the roof of my mouth, and I glance at the bucket in the corner. He’s going to live with that reek for three full months.
That’s nothing, compared to what happens to the children taking the drugs he sold. Herzog developed Crash specifically to target adolescents, boys and girls whose brains weren’t yet fully formed. Every dose Leo sold preyed on innocents. He’s a monster.
A monster who doesn’t resist as Trap wheels him over to the table. “Try anything,” Trap says, “and I’ll break your fucking fingers. Understand?”
When Leo doesn’t answer, Trap slaps the back of his head. “Got it, dickhead?”
“I’ve got it,” Leo weeps.
He ruined my life. Ruined my family. Ruined how many other families—siblings and parents and other loved ones desperate to hear from Herzog’s slaves, from his broken, addicted customers.
Trap unties Leo’s legs first. Then his arms. Then, finally, the heavy strap around his chest.
Leo doesn’t move until Trap starts to wrestle him onto the table. Then, my brother thrashes, scrambling like a damaged crab. Trap gets him in a headlock, clamping hard around his neck. “Go on, cumwipe. Just try it. I’ll break your fucking neck.”
Leo’s arms and legs sag like newly poured concrete. He still moves; his chest is heaving, his belly rising and falling like he’s just run a hundred-meter sprint.
I know that type of gasping. That’s the way I felt every time Herzog cornered me. Every time he penetrated me—with his cock, with his fist, with any cruel item he happened to have around. That’s the way I felt every time he made me bleed. Made me scream.
Leo doesn’t resist as Trap fastens the bonds around his wrists. He doesn’t fight as his feet go into the stirrups. He barely moans as the metal bonds saw into the filthy flesh of his ankles.
His feet are bare. Did he have shoes when they found him in Philadelphia? Did Trap take them away, to keep him from running?
No. The soles of Leo’s feet are black. He hasn’t worn shoes in a very long time.
Once my brother is secure, Trap looks toward the rolling rack. He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. He’s asking if I want to do the honors.
I pick up a pair of heavy-duty shears. I’m going to cut off Leo’s clothes, leave him cold and naked and alone. But my hands are shaking so hard I can’t slip my fingers through the grips.
Trap waits, giving me a chance to recover.
I want this. I need this. I deserve revenge.
But I can’t move. I can’t make my hands manage the scissors.
Trap takes them from me. Leo’s grimy T-shirt fabric melts beneath the blades like ice in a furnace. The waistband of his sweatpants offers token resistance, but the shears make short work of both disgusting legs. Leo isn’t wearing underpants.
He’s lying in his own shit. His feet are pinned in the stirrups. His tiny penis tries to crawl inside the bellows of his belly as his knees knock together in cruel imitation of protection.
“Why are you doing this?” he whimpers. “What did I do? Please, just tell me what I did! Please!”
I can’t decide where to begin.You stole my family. You stole my friends. You stole my fiancé and then, when I found a man a million times better, you stole three years I could have spent with him. You gave me nightmares I’m still unable to put into words. My body tore because of you. My blood spilled. You turned me into a murderer, because that was the only way I could ever be free.
Trap has moved to the top of the table. His hand is poised over Leo’s head. His fingers stretch toward the heavy black fabric.
He waits for me to meet his storm-dark green-brown gaze. And when I nod, he rips away the hood.
