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."