Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I am only loyal to the cause.”
His eyes dart to me, and they are filled with suspicion. He’s onto me, and now he’s going to make it worse. He reaches for his bamboo cane and walks behind me. I close my eyes as the cane cracks across the soles of my feet, and I don’t move for the duration.
“Would ye care to take the lashings for your friend as well?” Farrell challenges.
“He’s not well,” I reply. “So I will take them.”
Alex looks at me in horror, and I tear my eyes away. Farrell cracks the cane over my back and legs until I collapse into the shattered glass beneath me. But it isn’t over. It’s already too late when it occurs to me that I’ve only made it worse.
He drags Alex from the glass and forces him over the bench. Alex sobs, and I hate him for it. I hate those loud noises. Those cries. I want to cover my ears. I want to tell him to shut up. I don’t want to see or hear any of this. Farrell pulls up his shirt and starts to beat him. He watches me while he does it, challenging me to speak out of turn.
When I don’t, he hits him harder. And harder. The cane cracks across his head and face, and Alex collapses onto the bench completely. This is a test. Farrell wants to see if I will challenge him. But he’s going too far this time. Alex has been without water. He is weak and malnourished. His body cannot withstand much more. I’ve watched the other lads hold up under torture. And I’ve watched the ones who didn’t survive. But this time is different. Because Alex spoke to me. And I know him.
“Please,” I say.
Farrell snarls at me and raises his arm again, striking out in rage across Alex’s head. Alex stops moving. He stops making noise, and I’m holding my breath, silently pleading for Farrell to stop. He doesn’t.
He continues to hit him. Again and again and again. Until blood sprays across his shirt and his arms.
Something about the sight of that blood makes all of that rage inside of me boil over just as I feared. I don’t know where it comes from. I haven’t any idea what I’m doing. But I’m moving towards Farrell, and he tries to turn his cane on me. He’s unprepared for me to fight back, because I never have.
I take the cane easily from his grip, and I hit him with it. Again and again and again until all I see is red. Beautiful, glorious, red.
***
For as long as I can remember, women have always flocked to Crow.
Even as young lads in school, the girls were always coming up to speak with him. He told me how it worked and tried to get me to speak with them too. But I knew they didn’t like me.
Nobody liked me. Except for Crow and his mammy.
I wasn’t very good at school. By the time I finally went, I was already fourteen. I knew how to read and write, but I didn’t know any of the other stuff. The other kids were always whispering that I was a freak. So I kept to myself. It didn’t bother me.
When we came to the states, Crow offered to help me get a woman. Told me it was an important rite of passage for a man. He was always with a different woman. Said he didn’t want to get attached. So I told him I was the same. I didn’t need him to find me a woman, and I didn’t want to get attached.
I’d followed Crow all my life. Did the things he did and tried to blend in. I thought it was all going okay, and I could have kept on with it for my whole life. But then I saw Sasha. It was her voice that caught my attention before I ever saw her face. I didn’t usually look at a woman’s face, unless I needed to. But Sasha had a gentle voice. I liked the way she spoke. She wasn’t loud like the other women at Slainte, but always soft.
That night though, she was waiting tables in the diner where we ate breakfast. Her arm brushed mine as she filled up my coffee cup, and she looked right at me and smiled. Most women were afraid of me, I think, and they never looked right at me like that. But she did. And she wasn’t laughing. She didn’t treat me like I was different or make me feel uncomfortable. My arms were shaking, and my heart was beating fast. It reminded me of the pills they used to give us at the compound. And I hated that feeling. Hated her for making me feel that way again. But for the rest of the night I couldn’t stop staring at her.