****
It had to be this way. Fuck, there was no other way. This is life – my motherfucking life – and this is how I handle my shit. I spent money, time, and manpower on finding this piece of shit. I need it. God, do I fucking need it, but my girl, my fucking Lala, she needs this more than anyone. Every club member, old lady and friend of Lala's, her fucking family, wants this for her, so I'm gonna make sure we all get what we want. I promised myself that I would always take care of mine, and I'm doing just that. I'm taking care of what's mine.
"Took me a while to get you, you slimy fuck, but I knew you'd slip the fuck up soon enough." I tell him.
He grunts around the tape in response. He shouldn't have shit to say to me. There is no begging for forgiveness, no explanation that will keep me from causing him the pain he so richly deserves. He hurt the one fucking person I love, and there is no way in hell he's getting away clean on this shit.
"Hand it to me." I tell Stitch pointing at the eight-inch blade Buck knife. It's just how I like my tools, dull and rusty. Gutted a few deer with it, a couple of fish, and a handful of motherfuckers. It's my go-to tool.
He knows what coming to him so I get the party started. I don't give him a second to think about it before I slice into his arm, pushing the blade in all the way to the handle. Skin gives, bone breaks, and muscle tears. He screams and I feel like I'm listening to my favorite song. I'll bet he's gonna scream more than Lala did. Motherfucker.
I let that blade sit for a second, letting him feel that terrible burn. I want him to see how I plan to take my time with him, and that he'll die when I'm good and ready. I give it an oh so, slow twist, wanting to hear more of my favorite song – Keep fucking screaming.
This moron is crying, snotting, spitting, pissing, shitting … he's a fucking mess, and it makes me smile. It's a genuine fucking smile, teeth and all showing. I feel my heart filling up with pure joy knowing I'm giving back a little of what he gave Lala.
I watch as that perfect hue of red runs down his arm and into a puddle on the grass. We're in the back yard at the club, my brothers standing around and watching. Even Happy is standing here watching the show. Our family has been fucked with too much, and he's here to see that justice is served. This is how we handle our shit.
///
"What are you gonna do with him?" Gin asks, arms crossed, staring at Ryan. What am I going to do? I'm going to gut him like a fucking pig, that's what.
"We're gonna play a little game."
Eight inches of rusty, serrated blade is thrust straight into his thigh. He's fighting a useless fight. No amount of struggling is gonna help him. It only makes this shit all the more fun for me. I like to see the fight in a man who knows he's got no chance of livin'. I want him to fucking suffer.
Ripping the tape off his mouth, I ask him, "Lala fight this hard, motherfucker?"
"I love her," he pleads around a sob, spitting out blood as he talks. Yeah, I can see how much love he had for her while he was slamming the end of a rifle into her face, over and over again. I'll bet he really fucking loved her when he left her for dead, bleeding and broken on the floor.
"I have to tell ya, Ryan. You sure do have a funny way of showin' it," Tank spits at him.
I step up in front of Ryan and bend down, looking him straight in his swollen, fucked up eyes and remind him, "I fuckin' love her, motherfucker."
I go at him for a long while and I'm not even tired. Every brother here still stands in the same spot, showing me they are here as long as I need this. I never parted with my knife, using it to cut off every one of his fingers, sawing them off one by one. I've cut things off and sliced him from head to toe. His blood covers practically every inch of me and the ground below him, and my hands are still twitching for revenge. I promised him slow and painful, and he's getting exactly what I promised him.
"I wonder if Lala left our home thinking she was gonna die." I don't really want an answer. Not sure I could handle that truth. "Did she scream? Did she beg? Did she cry?" I slam my fist straight into his already broken as fuck nose. His blood loss is making him fade fast and I still don't feel like I've done enough, so I take my knife and slam it into his eye socket.
When I pull the knife out of his eye, I reach down shove it into his stomach and twist, watching more blood just spill out of him. Idly I wonder how the fucker has any blood left in him, but I remember Sis telling me once that the human body holds somewhere between 1 1/2 to 2 gallons of blood. I plan to make sure he doesn't have a goddamn drop left.
"How we gonna end this, man?" Stitch asks. It's been a few hours and I need to get back to my girls. Walking behind Ryan's limp, sad fucking body, I smile again. He'll get what he deserves.
Grabbing a handful of his hair, I rip his head back and look down at his mutilated face. This one's for you, Lala. I smile from ear to ear as I let my blade run across his neck. Not deep enough to kill him, but deep enough for him to choke or bleed to death. I've made sure it was painful, and now I'm making sure it's slow. I want it long and drawn out.
"Let the motherfucker bleed out or choke to death." I get nods all around the yard. "I gotta get goin' and get back to my girls."
The last thing I hear from Ryan are gurgling, gagging, gasping breaths, and I'm as satisfied as I can be. If I could, I would bring his ass back and do it all over again, but fuck him. I pray to God that shit is painful. I hope he's as scared as Lala was. I think she would be proud of me. I'm stepping up in my role as a family man, all for my family.
21
Letting Go
To say Sis and Tank were shocked would be a goddamn understatement. Fuck, I'm still shocked even though I knew what the results would be. This is my little tiny human, and the damn DNA test proves it. Hell, the little snot looks just like Lala and me. Once the results were in, they handed her over to me. That was it. I have a fucking 5 month old daughter, and believe it or not, I am a proud fucking Daddy.
"What are we gonna do?" Lil asks, holding Georgia. There are those fucking tears I hate streaming down her face.
"I don't know." I tell her. I don't fucking know. I wish I had a goddamn answer to give her. I wish I had something good to say, but I don't have shit.
Lala hasn't gotten better. Nothing has changed. The bruises have faded, the cuts are scabbed over, bones have healed, but her brain is still stuck. There is no eating, no talking. Fuck. She doesn't even blink. She doesn't move. She's stuck and I fucking hate that I can't help her. I hate that I can't save her.
I talk to her. I hold her hand. I lay Georgia with her, but not one fucking thing I do changes shit for her. At this point, I'm desperate. I'll try anything. There is nothing I wouldn't do to bring her back to me.
///
"Rampage, let me take Georgia home with me. I'll take care of her until Lala starts pulling through this, because she will soon." I'm not sure I can let my baby go. I'm not sure I can let her out of my sight.
"Sis, not sure I can do that."
"If I have her, you can focus on Lala and help her get better."
Sis, the eternal optimist. Her words fucking hurt. The tears in her eyes and the shake in her voice fucking kill me. She's preaching it, but she doesn't believe it. She knows, just like I do, that Lala's not getting better. She's not coming back to me.
"She's not gettin' better." I tell her plainly, because it's the goddamn truth. Lala isn't healing.
"Shut up. She is. I'm taking Georgia home with me. You help Lala get better and then you bring her home, you hear me?" Lil grumbles at me around a sob. I do what I always do when these girls start crying − I agree.
"Okay, Sis."
****
I agreed to let Sis take my baby home, but not before letting her say goodbye to her Mom, not before letting Lala feel her one last time.
"Here, baby." Sitting on the edge of Lala's bed, I lay Georgia next to her. My baby's little feet are kicking around in that little dress Sis had to put on her.
The worst feeling I've ever felt settles in my gut. I know I have to let her go. I know we have to tell Lala goodbye. I know in my fucking heart this is it. I got the best kind of life a man like me can ask for because she was in it. I got it all and Lala gave it to me selflessly.
"Georgia, tell mommy bye. Tell her you love her."