Carmine wasn't sure where he was or how he got here. It was dark. He felt numb, like he did when he went to the dentist, but all over. He heard distant sounds that sounded like wind but occasionally it sounded like words. He could hear God, and Jesus, and Help. But it was hard to focus on individual voices there were so many. Or maybe it was just wind.
He heard The Voice say. He tried to say "Yes?" but he couldn't. But The Voice must have heard him 'cause it continued.
What? I don't understand.
What do I have to do every day?
He had to think about that. Maybe. He could kill people if he had to. He thought he could. No, he was sure he could. Yes.
Carmine opened his eyes. He was in Magda's room. Magda was positioned on her bed with her hands folded on her chest. She was wearing a white dress that was covered with bloody hand-prints. He couldn't see her face. He smelled of piss and blood. When he stood up to go to her, he saw himself in the mirror and realized that he only had one eye. The other eye was sort of smooshed and dangling from its socket. His head was throbbing and he could see that one side of it was sort of caved in.
He whirled to look at Magda. Her face was a bloody pulp. Carmine's blood boiled. He raced through the house until he found Magda's mom face down in the kitchen. She had puked all over the floor. Her breath was shallow and her skin was pale and clammy. The bloody frying pan was there on the floor.
Carmine picked her up and strangled her until she stopped breathing completely. Then he dropped her and he went through the house looking for something to put over his eye and a hat to wear.
As he was leaving the house he looked back into the kitchen. Her body was gone. Back to Jesus, i suppose, like Magdalena, he thought.
"I still have to kill someone, too, can't forget that," he muttered to himself, trying to form a list of people he wouldn't mind killing.
NYU Campus Cafeteria - 12:41
*Gah!!*
Meredith ran a frustrated hand through her hair as she scribbled another line out of her notebook - barely resisting the urge to tear the page out and toss it across the cafeteria. She had a paper due on Friday for her Critical Analysis class - usually the words flowed, spilling out of her head and filling up page after page. But lately… it was like her mind couldn’t focus.
It didn’t help that she was sat in the middle of the crowded cafeteria at lunch time. Students streamed through the packed room, crammed into overflowing tables. The chatter alone was enough to drive Meredith insane, but every time someone dropped a fork, or scraped their knife against a plate, it made her grind her teeth in irritation.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Reaching into her bag, she grabbed her Walkman and slid the headphones in place. That was better, nothing like a bit of Whitesnake to soothe the savage beast. Her fingertips tapped against the table in time to the music. Retrieving her notepad, Meredith reread what she’d written so far, her free hand snagging a fresh lollipop from her stash. Strawberry - her favourite. She’d rather it were a pack of Marlboro Lights… maybe that was what was wrong with her, nicotine deprivation. That and she was waiting, she hated waiting around. *Where the hell are you, Gail?*
“Ring-a-ding-ding!”
Meredith rolled her eyes, feeling her jaw tighten at the mere sound of the voice piercing the din of the cafeteria. Pulling the hood of her sweater over her head, she turned the volume up on her Walkman. Maybe if she just ignored him…
“Hey!”
No such luck. A rough hand yanked back her hood with a cruel chuckle as several chairs scraped against the hard tile floor. Meredith looked up, her dark eyes glaring with irritation. Jason Templeton, King of Delta-Kappa-Epsilon and general fuck-wit. He was also her ex. Sort of.
Jason grinned. He was a typical frat boy, built like a brick wall with classic all-American good looks from his perfectly gelled hair to his pressed slacks. Today he was flanked by two other frat-clones - Ben and Jerry or whatever the hell their names were - Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum for all she gave a rats ass. They were his groupies, his bitch-boys, just like the rest of Delta-Kappa-Epsilon, sucking Templeton’s dick for him like he didn’t have a flock of brainless sorority girls lined up and more than willing to oblige.
They had dated. Briefly. Back when Meredith was a doe-eyed little freshman grateful for the attention and Jason was still at least pretending to be a decent human being. On their third date they’d gone ice skating at the Rockefeller Centre, he’d bought her hot chocolate and warmed her freezing hands in his pockets. Then he’d driven her home in his Hummer. It might have been one of those movie perfect dates, if only he’d not pulled into a lay-by and torn her shirt and slapped her around the face when she wouldn’t let him cop-a-feel.
Meredith sighed, setting down her lollipop and sliding her headphones back. She pressed the clunky ‘STOP’ button on her Walkman with an audible ‘CLICK’. She could try ignoring him, but past experience had taught her that had little effect. Best to just indulge his super ego and hope he had some place better to be by the time Gail showed up.
“What the fuck is that piece of crap?” he was pointing at her Walkman, Meredith shrugged before sliding it into her book bag. “Fuck, Bell, if you were short on cash all you had to do was say…” he pulled out his wallet, counting out a wad of notes. He set the money down on the table and pushed it towards her. “Consider it a loan, you could chuck out that hunk of shit and get yourself an Ipod like mine,” his gaze turned leery, centring on her chest, “or some decent clothes.”
Meredith felt her temper flare but she held it in, it was too crowded and though they pretended not to be, everyone was listening. She inhaled deeply, her glare burning a hole through his smug forehead. “Go away, Jason.”
“Oh come on,” he insisted, looking to his buddies for encouragement - like he needed it. “If you’re worried about paying me back, I’m sure we can work out some kind of arrangement. Me, I got all the pussy I need, but my boys here could always find a use even for a frosty little prick tease like you.” Picking up her discarded lollipop, his lips quirked slightly. “Maybe give you something else to suck on.”
Neanderthal number one grinned, punching fists with Jason. “We could get bonus points for thawing the ice queen out of her panties.”
“You gotta watch out though,” Jason laughed cruelly, “Bell’s so frigid she nearly gave my cock frostbite.”
Her chair fell to the ground, the sound echoing in the now quiet cafeteria. Meredith had leapt to her feet but she couldn’t move. Her fingers clenched themselves into tight fists at her sides, itching to take a swing at the arrogant bastard, to vent that burning, consuming rage. She wanted to tell him to take his money and shove it up his ass, if he had room up there with all the sycophantic jerk-offs, she wanted to punch that smug grin off his face. She wanted-
“Oh, lookie what we have here! The Captain of the Mensa Society!” Gail’s breezy voice cut the tension like a knife. In half a minute she was at Meredith’s side, one arm wrapped casually around her shoulders in a silent sign of solidarity. “And who are your friends today, Jason? Professor Hawking and Cornel West? Oh no wait, it’s just Beavis and Butthead.”
“Says the Queen of the Dykes,” Jason glared, screwing up his money and shoving it back into his pocket. “Well, at least we know who wears the pants in the relationship now, and why Bell is such a stuck up frigid little shrew.”
Gail’s temper flared but unlike Meredith she didn’t even attempt to rein it in. “Go fuck yourself, Templeton!” she spat, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “Just because she dumped your sorry ass last year. What? Did it bruise you poor baby ego? Did Mommy have to kiss it better for her little Jacey-Wacey? Ha!”
She laughed, even as she grabbed the rest of Meredith’s belongings and slid them into her backpack, linking their arms as she straightened. “Anyway, from what I hear, a girl would need a fucking magnifying glass to find your dick,” she held up her little finger mockingly, “I hear it’s like a pencil.”
Jason kicked back his chair as he stood, leaning across the table. “Shut your mouth, bitch. Or I’ll shut it for-”
He never finished his sentence. It was like, Meredith just saw red, saw Jason threatening Gail, remembering how he’d hit her on their date. A mist of fury seemed to descend upon her and the next thing she knew, she’d vaulted over the table and had Jason by the throat. His entourage toppled back in surprise, stunned into inaction. Meredith could smell their fear - she didn’t even know what fear smelled like, but it was there, and it was making her heart pound with delight. Jason choked out a sound and she squeezed a little harder, her pulse jolting as he emitted a frightened gurgling noise.
“You lay one finger on her and I’ll rip out your goddamned throat,” she spat, her voice shockingly calm and devoid of emotion. It made the threat sound even better, it sounded like she meant it. And perhaps she did.
Grasping his hand, Meredith twisted his finger until he let go of her lollipop. She gave it a last lick then jammed it up his left nostril. A couple of girls in the cafeteria giggled.
“Just because a girl doesn’t fall on her back with her legs spread apart as soon as you walk in the room, doesn’t mean she’s frigid, or that she’s a lesbian. It means she has standards, that don’t include screwing disease spreading fuckers like you.”
She let him go. Jason stumbled, staggering backwards so fast he fell on his ass. His eyes were wide and he still had that lollipop shoved up his nose. Meredith didn’t move, just kept staring at him, daring him to retaliate. What if he did? He was bigger, stronger, he’d probably kill her. A strange part of her actually relished the challenge.
“You… psycho, BITCH!” he spat, trying to sound tough but the tiny tremor in his voice betrayed his very real fear.
Meredith smiled and even though she couldn‘t see for herself, she knew it was all teeth - feral, like an animal. “Damn straight.”
She might never have moved if Gail hadn’t slid her arm through hers and hurried them both out of the cafeteria into the fresh, open air. Meredith inhaled deeply and her legs suddenly felt like jelly. What the hell had she just done?
“Now that was so… fuckin’ awesome!!” Gail was beaming, barely able to contain her joy. “Way to go Meredith!” she punched the air, “I thought I was supposed to be your dyke in shining armour, then you go and…” she punched the air again, “pow! Bastard didn’t know what hit him! What on earth’s gotten into you? You getting your rag or something?”
“I don’t know, maybe?” Meredith laughed hollowly, letting Gail lead the way. “I just… I thought he was gonna hit you and-”
“Woah girl, no way do you need to justify it, he had it coming, he’s had it coming a long time. You were just… wow! Did I say, wow?” Gail grinned, quirking an eyebrow suggestively, “and hot, it was very hot too.”
Meredith rolled her eyes, nudging her best friend with her hip. “Yeah, yeah…”
Freida, Magdalena's mother, knew why she was alive. Satan had offered her revenge on her WHORE daughter and that RAPIST ASSHOLE Carmine. She had killed her daughter and she had tried to kill the fucking MONSTER that had spoiled her sweet innocent child. But he refused to stay dead. Even as she was aware he was choking the life out of her Satan whispered in her ear telling her that revenge was not damnation. She would burn for the death of her daughter to be sure, but she was not adding to her burden of sin to ruin the life of the FUCKER who had damned her child.
She would get a second chance. So here she stood in front Carmine's apartment. Mrs. Bocelli had been a friend at one time. They attended the same church and rode the same bus sometimes to get downtown. But the first time Carmine had tried to touch her little girl, Freida had marched Carmine back to his mother by the ear.
Mrs. Bocelli had taken the boy in but had been harsh with Freida in the hallway. "He's slow, he doesn't understand sometimes. No reason to call him names and hurt him like that."
It is because of thinking like that, thought Freida, that you have GANGS and TEENAGE PREGNANCY.
Freida knocked on the door. Mrs Bocelli opened the door and gasped. "Freida, my dear, you look ... unwell."
By the time she was done, Freida was actually winded. The RAPIST'S mother was easy enough to convince to come back to her apartment. But as soon as she saw blood in the hallway she started to balk. Frieda had to grab one of the marble statues of The Blessed Virgin and hit her a few times to get her to stop trying to struggle.
Frieda has tied her to the kitchen table and had toyed with the irony of stuffing the CUNT that the RAPIST had come from with the Blessed Virgin Mary. But she had opted to just slit her open and let her bleed to death.
Freida then went upstairs, showered and put on her nice church clothes. She had to go to confession. She packed one of her carving knives in her purse since she knew that the young priest Father NANCY-BOY wasn't going to let her confess that she had made a bargain with the devil and murdered a neighbor.
As she was leaving the flat she though idly, maybe I'll wait until tomorrow to tell him instead.
Carmine wandered into Balthazar's Building. He had on a baseball cap and sunglasses but the guys at the desk recognized him. "Carmine, Mr. Balthazar doesn't have you on his schedule. What are you doing here?"
"I think I'm in trouble, guys. I think I should tell Mr. Balthazar."
An elevator made an extraordinarily loud DING noise and Balthazar stepped into the lobby. He had his usual array of thugs, advisors, lawyers and such with him but he stopped by Carmine.
"Carmine, you look like shit. Why are you wearing that ugly hat and those cheap sunglasses?"
Carmine reluctantly pulled off the sunglasses. Since yesterday he'd tried to push his eyeball back into the socket but the juice was gone from it and his eyelid was a ragged flap of skin. He wasn't bleeding and so it looked more like chicken skin than a wound. Balthazar sucked air, "Ow, that looks like it hurts."
Balthazar placed his hand around Carmine's shoulders and took him off to the side, "Carmine, tell me what are you involved in?"
Carmine tried to tell him but the more he said the less sense it made. Balthazar wasn't getting it. "Look I have an appointment to get to. Tell you what, Tony and the boys here will see that you get cleaned up. They'll get one of my witches to fix that eye for you and we'll talk about this later."
"Thanks, Mr. B."
Carmine waited by the desk as Balthazar returned to his entourage. "Tony, get the boy cleaned up and looking more-or-less normal. Then drop him off a bride somewhere. If he's in trouble it can't lead back here."
"Consider it done, Mr. Balthazar."
"Tony, I appreciate you giving me a lift back to the house."
"Sure thing, Carmine, just grab a few things though, We have to put you in a safe-house until this blows over, okay?"
"Yeah, I understand, Tony, I'm just gonna tell Mama that I'll be away for a few days, otherwise she'll worry."
"You do that, Carmine." That will delay the search for a few days longer at least.
Carmine walked to the door but paused a moment when he realized it was wide open. The inside had been tossed and there were gang tags spray-painted on all the walls. There was no sign of his Mama.
Carmine ran upstairs and still didn't see any sign of her. He grabbed his bag and threw in some shirts and underwear. He raced downstairs to the street and out to the nice sedan parked there.
"Tony, something's happened to Mama!"
"You better get in the car, Carmine. It might not be safe. I'll go inside and look." Tony took a handgun out of his jacket and screwed a silencer onto the muzzle. He slipped into the apartment and looked around. He recognized the gang sign as New West Berlin - sort of, it was sloppy and NWB prided itself on the quality of its tags - there were clearly valuable things here that had been left in place as well. This had been staged to induce fear and to frame someone else.
He put his gun down and placed a call. Balthazar wasn't answering his phone, but Tony knew he was in a meeting, he'd leave a message, it wasn't that urgent, "Tony here, Carmine's mom's place has been trashed and someone is trying to frame New West Berlin for it. I Thought you should know. I'm going to see that Carmine isn't around to report it, but if someone finds her place like this they might go looking for him."
Tony left and locked the door behind him. Carmine was in the back seat looking fretful. "Carmine, listen, there isn't anything you can do about this. I've told Mr. Romano and he is going to look into it. He's a powerful man and he's looking out for you."
Carmine nodded and wiped his cheeks. Tony felt bad, but this was the job. He drove into Brooklyn. He pulled into an alleyway and got out. . Carmine got out with his bag. "Head down to the end of the alleyway, there's a door down there that opens into the safe-house. I'll be right with you."
Carmine got all the way to the end before he turned back to Tony. Tony was pointing the silenced gun at him. "I'm sorry, Carmine, Mr. B. said to make it quick and painless."
Two shots went through Carmine's head. One of them dislodged his recently-fixed eye. This, more than anything else that had happened that day is what pissed him off.
Tony fired a half-dozen more shots into Carmine before Carmine could wrestle the pistol from him. Tony took only one shot to drop. Carmine wished he knew how to drive. But Tony had a lot of cash in his wallet so he took that and planned to ride the train. As soon as he got cleaned up. Again.