ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror (16 page)

“Thought you didn’t give a fuck?” Frankie said to Andrew as he etched another long slice across Penelope’s face.  “Looks like you care now!”

No one said anything, the air tense enough to carry electric.  Frankie continued gagging Penelope with his hand, only letting her go once her sobbing had quieted down.  She shook and trembled when he released her.

Frankie cricked his neck to the side and shuddered.  “Damn, that was fun.”

“You sick fuck!”  Andrew cursed him.  “You sick sick fucker!”

“Those cuts are deep, bro,” Dom commented.  “They ain’t ever going to heal right.  Scarred for life.”

Davie agreed.  The cuts on both side of Penelope’s face were thick and ragged.  But, along with her shaved head and the other abuses of the night, Davie knew that the deepest scars would be the ones inside her mind.  Frankie had caused damage that no amount of therapy would ever cure.

“Can I cut someone now?” Michelle asked almost innocently, as if she was an eight-year old asking to taste her daddy’s wine.

Frankie offered out the knife.  “Sure thing, sweets.”

Michelle took the knife and immediately headed for Rebecca.

Frankie put a hand out and stopped her.  “Not so fast, baby girl.  No one touches the girl but me.”

Michelle’s entire face drooped.  “Seriously?  Come on!  Just let me cut her a little bit.  Slapper thinks she’s the shit.  Needs bringing down a bit, if you ask me.”

Frankie didn’t speak.  He just stared at Michelle, unblinking.

“Okay, okay,” she said.  “I’ll slice her dad then.”

She took the knife over to Andrew who looked back at her defiantly.  “How did a nice girl like Charlie ever have a friend like you?” he asked.

Michelle hissed at him.  “I kicked that bitch to the curb long time ago.  Thought she was better than me.”

“That’s because she is,” said Andrew.

Michelle lashed out with the knife, hitting against Andrew’s ribs with an audible clank.  The knife was small and could only have entered an inch or so, but it was more than enough to make Andrew growl in pain.

“Hey,” Frankie shouted.  “Watch where you’re cutting.  You’ll end up killing the geezer.”

Davie sat up straight, buoyed by his big brother’s comment. 
Maybe he doesn’t want to kill anyone after all.  Why else would he have just told Shell to be careful?

“Isn’t that what you want?” Michelle asked Frankie.

“No,” Frankie replied.  “Not yet, at least.  Got to make him feel it first.”

Davie sighed. The brief glimmer of hope faded away.  This couldn’t go on any longer, surely?  What more damage could Frankie do?  Penelope would never be the same again and most likely neither would Andrew.  Rebecca still had a chance, though.  She could still get through this in one piece if it all ended now.  Davie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made a decision. 

It’s time I put a stop to this

Chapter Eighteen

Andrew was afraid, he could not deny, but there was strength inside him, too, that he’d never known existed.  The pain he’d experienced, and was still yet to experience, was not enough to break him – in fact it had only made his resolve stronger.  He wouldn’t beg, he would not plead.  The hell Frankie put him through had changed something in Andrew.  He had seen into the depth of his own physical being – the deepness of his soul – and knew now that he would never stop fighting for his family.

But things changed when Frankie had slashed Pen’s face.  The pain of seeing his wife’s beautiful face disfigured found a way past Andrew’s barriers and struck right at his heart.  A pressure grew inside his chest that threatened to explode his very being.

Frankie approached with a new weapon – one he hadn’t yet used to torture anyone.  He held the pliers at arm’s length and snapped them shut menacingly.  “Time for your dental appointment, sir.”

Andrew sighed and let his head drop to his chest, mentally preparing himself for another endless bout of agony. He sent his mind to a meditative place, a sea of calm indifference that offered a sliver of emotionally sanctuary.  It was a place inside of himself that he’d not known existed before tonight.  Pain and suffering had forced it into existence; rending itself into Andrew’s psyche out of necessity and survival.

“I’ve never done a root canal before,” said Frankie, “but I’m sure it’ll go alright.  What do you think?”

Andrew said nothing.  If he did then the animal might hurt his family some more.  Whatever happened, he could take it – or at least tolerate – as long as it was done only to him.

Frankie grabbed Andrew’s lower jaw with his grubby fingers and yanked it open.  “Dear, oh, dear.  That’s some very bad tooth decay you have there.  I think we’re going to have to get those teeth out ASAP.  Every single one of them.”

The twins and Michelle gave a cheer to that as if it was the most exciting thing they’d ever heard.  Andrew wondered if it was the drugs that made them this way, or if they were born wicked.  They weren’t human beings, they were baying dogs – hyenas.

Frankie shushed everyone into silence and started his procedure.  Andrew spluttered and coughed as the pliers entered his mouth.  They scratched against his tongue and clinked against his teeth, sending aching shudders down to the roots.  Suddenly, the steel tongs clamped down on either side of a molar and Andrew felt the tooth crack beneath the sudden pressure.  Agony exploded thorough his lower jaw and travelled upwards to consume his entire face.  His vision blurred as the pliers twisted side to side, yanking and wrenching the tooth away from the gum, millimetre by excruciating millimetre.  Despite coming extremely near, Andrew didn’t lose consciousness.  He was still awake to see Frankie to make a successful extraction and hold it in front of his mesmerised audience like a grizzly trophy.

Andrew’s mouth filled with hot, salty blood; so much that he thought he might drown in it.  He spat endlessly to keep his mouth clear and the sight of all the gore seemed to cause a massive grin to stretch wide across Frankie’s twitching face.

“That shit is gross,” said Dom from a couple of meters away.  “I could puke!”

“Pull another one,” Michelle screeched.  “Do another before he passes out.”

Frankie took the pointed piece of enamel from the pliers and examined it between his fingers.  He showed it to Andrew, waving it a couple of inches in front of his nose.  “Mind if I keep this?”

The question disturbed Andrew.  It was the type of thing a serial killer would do; keep a memento of his victim’s bodies.  The notion of dying tonight was becoming more and more a reality to Andrew, but so was something else: If Frankie was going to kill him, he wouldn’t just stop there –
couldn’t
stop there.  Pen and Bex were witnesses that this thug could not afford to keep around.  If Andrew didn’t get free, Frankie was going to kill his family.

“Time for the next tooth,” said Frankie clicking the pliers open and shut.  Blood still dripped from the implement.

“STOP IT!”

Andrew leant sideways to see around Frankie.  What he saw was Davie, stood up beside the sofa and facing down his brother.

Frankie spun around.  “What the fuck, Davie?”

Davie’s eyes narrowed beneath the bandage around his forehead; his slim shoulders were rigid, tense.  “I’m done with this, Frankie!  You’ve hurt these people enough and I can’t take any more of this sick shit.”

Andrew couldn’t see Frankie’s face now, his back was turned, but he could tell by the unmoving body language that the thug was dumbfounded by his little brother’s sudden outburst.

“What’s your problem?  This goddamn pedo ran you the-fuck-over.”

“It was an accident,” said Davie, a single decibel below a shout, “and it happened because I was running away after what
you
did to that girl at the chip shop.  If you hadn’t taken me along I wouldn’t have got hit by any car.”

“You keep your mouth shut about that.  You want me to get pinched?”

Davie shook his head, exasperated.  “You’re already going to get pinched.  You’re planning on killing people tonight.”

So I was right,
Andrew thought grimly. 
The psychopath really does have it in him to commit murder.

“So what?” said Frankie.  “Shit happens.  Long as we’re smart, no one will pin a thing on us.”

Davie huffed and seemed incredulous.  “Us?  Us?  I want nothing to do with this whole mess.  This is all down to you and your shit-faced mates.”

“Hey, man, that’s not cool,” said Jordan from the floor.

“No,” Frankie agreed.  “Not cool at all.”  He marched forward and prodded a finger into Davie’s chest.  “Now you chill the fuck out, little bro, or things are going to end bad for you.”

Davie didn’t move an inch.  “I love you, Frankie, but if you carry on hurting these people then I ain’t your bro no more.”

Frankie was silent for a while as he seemed to consider his next words.  “You sure you want things to go down like that?”

Davie nodded and stood firm, not breaking eye-contact for a second.

Andrew sat and watched from the armchair, hardly able to breathe as he waited for an outcome to this familial confrontation – it seemed his life might very well hang in the balance.  At least, if anything, he’d judged Davie correctly – the boy was nothing like his older brother.

“I let them go: I go down,” said Frankie.  “You want that?”

Davie sighed.  “Course not.  You’re my blood.”

“So, what then?  What would you have me do, Davie?  You seem to be the one with all of the goddamn answers, so please enlighten me.”

Davie shrugged.  “Just leave.  They won’t say anything.”

Frankie laughed his head off.  “You’re shitting me?  Course they will!”

“Not if you threaten to send someone round to finish the job.  Just like the kid in the bathtub – nothing gets said to the police and everything stays cool.”

Everything will not be cool,
thought Andrew as he looked across at his catatonic wife, bleeding from her butchered face beneath a bald head. 
This isn’t going to end with you just walking away, scot free.  No way in hell.

Frankie took some time to think about things.  Andrew took the same time to do some thinking of his own.  If Frankie did leave, then the first thing Andrew would do was call the police.  But if Frankie stayed, then he most certainly intended to commit murder.  If that was the outcome then Andrew wasn’t going to go down without a fight.  The agony of his tooth extraction had reawakened his senses to the point that they were on high alert.  If Andrew was going to save his family it would be now while everyone was distracted.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie told his brother earnestly.  “I can’t leave things now.  My business isn’t done.  Got to ride this thing to the end.”

I’ll end it for you right now, you son of a bitch.

Andrew leapt from the armchair and barrelled into the back of Frankie as hard as he could.  The body tackle sent Frankie forward with enough force that he flipped clear over the room’s coffee table and landed awkwardly on a shoulder.  Like angry bees, the twins were on him in an instant.

Andrew lunged aside as Dom attempted to tackle him.  The teen missed and went tumbling into the TV stand headfirst.  Without thinking, Andrew swung his leg and connected with the boy’s ribs, enjoying the crunching impact it made.  Michelle attacked next. The wicked little harlot screeched at him like a medieval warmaiden.  Andrew had no time to consider the ethics of hitting a girl and threw the hardest punch he could produce.  Lips and teeth mushed beneath his colliding fist and Michelle flew backwards, already unconscious on her way down to the floor.

Next up was Jordan.  He came at Andrew with his arms wide, embracing him in a crushing bearhug and ramming him into the nearest wall.  Andrew lost his breath as his cracked ribs impacted against the hard plasterboard.  Unable to free his arms, he did the only thing he could think of: he bit Jordan in the face as hard as he could.  Andrew felt his teeth slice through the succulent flesh of the boy’s cheek and felt almost orgasmic as agonised screams – that for once were not his own – filled the living room.  He bit down harder, not releasing his grip until a fatty chunk of flesh fell away in his mouth.  Andrew spat the morsel onto the already ruined carpet and pushed the shuddering teen away.

Andrew felt as though he was outside of his body now, controlling his rage-infected limbs from far away as they rattled with murderous intent.  After being captured and subdued like an animal, Andrew was finally free – and all he wanted now was to see the blood of his captors flowing as freely as his own. 

But before Andrew had a chance to sow his vengeance and free his family, he found himself once again powerless.  Frankie stood in front of the sofa, a knife around Bex’s throat.  She was still bound and gagged but Andrew could tell by his daughter’s eyes that she was terrified.

“Just let her go, Frankie, and I’ll let you walk out of here alive.”

Frankie cackled.  “You’ll let
me
walk out of here alive.  It’s
you
that’s a dead man.”

Andrew shook his head.  “Shoes on the other foot now.  I’m going to rip you apart first opportunity I get.  Best chance you’ve got is to run.”

Frankie stared at Andrew as if he were insane.  “You for real?  I’d kill you before you even got close to me.  I’m Frankie-fuckin-Walker.”

Andrew shook his head.  “You’re just a sad little boy that probably got abused in prison.  We should all feel sorry for you, really – but you made a huge mistake when you took it out on my family.  I’m ready to die to protect them.  Are you really ready to die to stop me?”

Davie entered the conversation, standing between them both.  Jordan was still screaming in pain and rushed into the kitchen to tend to the ripped-open wound on his face.  His brother Dom lay on the floor, rubbing his shoulder.  Michelle was still unconscious.  Davie put a hand up to Andrew and Frankie, like a referee at an out-of-hand boxing match.  “Let’s just keep things calm, okay?  If you stay where you are, Andrew, we’ll all get out of your house right now.”