Carnage by Sarah Bailey

Fourteen

Francis

I could hear the screaming before I even stepped off the lift. The scene that met me was like a kick in the fucking teeth. Drake and Prescott were sat on the sofa with beer bottles in their hands. In the middle of the living room, a plastic sheet was laid out, which already had blood splatters on it.

For fuck’s sake, not what I wanted to come home to.

A man was sitting in a chair in the middle of the plastic sheeting. West was behind him, holding what looked like a hammer in his right hand.

“It’s the screamers who like the pain the most,” I heard Prescott saying to Drake, who gave him a grim smile.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded, throwing my hands out to gesture at West and the man with blood running down his arm.

Drake and Prescott’s heads turned to me, but West kept staring down at the man in front of him with violence in his eyes. Nothing could pull him out of it when he was in a trance-like state. The rush of adrenaline shooting through his system was too strong.

“West is fucked up on some shit,” Prescott said with a shrug. He took a swig of his beer, looking completely at ease despite the fact our friend was torturing someone in front of him.

This shouldn’t surprise me. I never know what the fuck I’m going to encounter with this lot. I swear they get more fucked up as the days go by.

I was under no illusions about my friends. We weren’t good men. We never claimed to be behind closed doors. The world knew us as ruthless. They’d branded us the Four Horsemen after all. What they didn’t realise was we had lost all our morality and qualms over the years. Mine resurfaced on occasion when the others sunk to new lows. It was my fight to deal with. No doubt I was a depraved, fucked up bastard who liked to dish out pain with the rest of them, but I didn’t like to admit it to anyone but these four.

“On what shit?”

“Don’t know, we found him like this.”

I rubbed my face, not knowing what the fuck to say or do about this situation.

“Did something happen with him today?”

It could be the only explanation as to why he’d gone off the rails like this yet again.

Drake looked nonplussed by the whole thing, then again I didn’t expect anything else from him when it came to West’s violent side. Prescott eyed West for a moment with a knowing look.

“I may have been partially responsible.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

I wondered at my three friends sometimes. Then again, I couldn’t exactly call myself any better than them. We’d already established long ago I wasn’t.

“Let me guess, it has something to do with our new employee, huh?”

Prescott gave me a wide grin, which only made me want to throw him off the roof of our building. He had no shame and took pleasure in winding up West to watch him explode. I, on the other hand, got pissed off with West’s erratic behaviour. He needed to be kept on a short leash.

“Bingo.”

I rolled my eyes, skirting around West and his latest victim, and walked into the kitchen.

“You know, I’m surprised no one has investigated us over all the seemingly random killings which happen in this city,” I muttered as I opened the fridge and took out a beer.

I used the opener on the fridge to flip the cap and chucked it away before taking a seat next to Prescott and Drake.

Honestly, I dread to think about the death count between us. We hadn’t cared about who got in our way back when we were at our worst. I wasn’t going to start caring now. No point. We were who we were. None of us apologised for it.

“We’re careful. Besides, I doubt West is going to kill him.” He waved at a document sitting on the coffee table in front of us. “The guy signed an NDA, he wants this shit.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“West’s dealer knows this guy who facilitates this kind of thing. Can’t know his name, but he’s a big player. The kind who gives people a chance to indulge in their most fucked up fantasies and desires.”

I leant forward and picked up the NDA, scanning my eyes over it.

“You’re seriously telling me people actually sign up to get their fucking bones broken for shits and giggles?”

Prescott shrugged again. Drake was staring at the blood on the guy’s arm, his eyes full of repressed desire. The man had some fucked up fascination with death and blood. He said he liked to watch it run down a person’s skin, staining it red whilst the life drained from their eyes. I didn’t understand it myself, but each to their own.

“Apparently so. You can ask West about it when he comes down.”

Our fucked up friend had set the man’s hand on a small table next to them. The sound of the hammer whooshing through the air followed by bones cracking filled the air. The man howled, tears streaming down his face.

“More,” he cried. “More!”

Prescott cocked his head to the side.

“See, told you he wants it.”

I didn’t know how to respond. It’s not like this was giving West some sort of sexual high since he wasn’t into guys. He merely liked violence and causing pain. It’s the guy he was hurting I didn’t understand. Who wanted all the bones in their hand broken?

“So what? He gets off on this shit?” I asked a moment later.

“Yeah, haven’t you noticed?”

Prescott indicated the guy’s crotch with his hand. I didn’t particularly want to look, but I did.

Well, what do you know? The sick fuck likes this a little too much.

“Huh? Well, suppose this is a safer way for West to indulge in his sport, unlike his usual ventures.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what type of conversation West had with his dealer to prompt him to mention this shit. West knew some pretty shady people with the circles he ran in. People like us, except they didn’t hide who they were from the world.

“Plus, this guy has a hardon for blood.” Prescott pointed his thumb towards Drake. “Kills two birds with one stone.”

Drake gave Prescott a dark look.

“Fuck off,” he muttered. “I do not.”

Prescott snorted.

“Yeah, okay, Drake, you keep telling yourself that. Not like Francis and I can’t see the look in your eyes.”

I didn’t look at Drake. I’d seen enough from the guy in the chair this evening. Instead, I watched West continue to break the bones in the guy’s hand. It looked like a mangled mess already. Seeing those broken bones made my lip twitch. I didn’t have a thing about that. It was the harsh pants of pain a woman made when her arms were tied too tightly behind her back. When the pressure got too much. When her bones almost popped out of their joints. I swallowed, trying to dissipate the images assaulting my mind. Images of her.

West dropped the hammer on the table, looked up at the ceiling, and sucked in a breath.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I need some pussy.”

“Well, we all know whose pussy you want,” Prescott said.

West dropped his head and stared at Prescott with this manic look in his eyes. He pointed his blood-spattered hand at our friend.

“Do you want me to break your fucking hand too, Pres? I will next time you pull that bullshit in front of me with Scarlett.”

Drake and I both looked at Prescott.

“What did you do?” Drake asked.

“Taunted him a little is all,” Prescott replied with another shrug as if West’s threat meant nothing.

To be fair, West had threatened to hurt all of us on many occasions. We’d been known to throw a few punches at each other from time to time when things got too heavy.

“And for your information, I’m not on a single damn thing. This is a favour for Gary. The NDA is to keep us safe, not him.” West waved at the man whose hand he’d destroyed. “He needed to be shown what happens when he steps out of line.”

“So, he’s not getting off on it?” Prescott asked with a raised eyebrow.

West looked down at the man and smirked.

“Never said he wasn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to deliver this fucker to his owner.”

I didn’t know what West meant by ‘his owner’, but I didn’t have time to ask. He hauled the man up out of the chair and took him over to the lift and stepped in, hitting a button. The last thing I saw before the doors closed was the glint of satisfaction in West’s amber eyes, like messing this guy up had soothed something deep within his soul.

No doubt, West is a sick, twisted deviant who will debase just about anyone to keep on an even keel, but it’s not like I’m any better.

“Wait, did West say excuse me?” I asked, staring at the other two.

West never said his pleases and thank yous… like ever.

“He did,” Drake said with a frown. “What did you do to him, Pres?”

“Me?” Prescott pointed at himself.

“Yes, you. Why is he being polite to us?”

“I did nothing other than talk to Scarlett. Maybe I got a little too close.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t make a difference either way. Drake looked at me, his eyebrow quirking upwards.

“Something else must have happened.”

When it came to West, all bets were off.

“Do you think he spoke to her?” I asked.

Drake nodded slowly. West had been pretty insistent he wasn’t going near Scarlett until the two weeks were up. What had prompted him to go back on his word?

I guess we were going to have to wait until he returned to get the answer out of him. I sure as shit hoped he hadn’t done anything fucking stupid. If he ruined this for us, I wasn’t going to hold back. He would get a taste of my fist, repeatedly.