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I head to the basement to see what the old man wants now. I can always hear my father before I see him. His voice is raised, like always, because there’s always something pissing him off. Pushing through the large double doors, I make my way into the room. Slowly, I take in the sight before me. There are two men down on their knees before him. Hands behind their backs, bound with rope, their heads lowered toward the ground. He is yelling God knows what at them. I can’t be bothered to really listen.

“What have we got here, old man?” I ask, walking up behind him. Glaring at me with a look of disgust, he turns back around to continue yelling at the two men. Only once he’s finished does he acknowledge me properly.

“Where have you been, boy?” He spits at me, not caring to wipe the pooling saliva from around his mouth.

“Working, where else? There was a service at the house. I came as soon as I could.”

“Well, you were not quick enough. We had a deal. Remember? Boy! I fucking call, you come running. I have had to deal with these two by myself, and you know I don’t like to get my hands dirty.” He replies, wiping his hands down the side of his pants.

“Yeah, couldn't have you chipping a nail, could we, old man?”

“Enough!” He demands, yelling again. “I haven't got time for your disobedience today, just deal with these two and then get out of my sight.”

“It’s a wonder you still have your sight at your age, old man?” I tease, rolling my eyes at his dramatics.

He cuts his eyes at me before storming out. I can’t help but laugh, riling him up is something I love to do. He might have some control over me, but not completely, and he never will. He can go fuck himself, because once I get the information I need from him, he's done. Turning me into a killer is going to bite him in the ass one of these days, and I can’t wait to pull the trigger. What I would give to shoot the smug cunt right between his eyes.

Heading over to the stainless-steel table, I grab the overalls and rubber gloves from the drawer below, sliding them on. I curse that son of bitch under my breath for the shit he makes me do. Unwrapping my tool kit, I debate on which one to use today. I look over the instruments indecisively, considering if it would be easier to play: eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the fuckers. Stepping back, I take a few deep breaths. I need to calm my mind and get this job done.

I step forward again, deciding on the spiked mace. It looks a bit like a hammer on a rope. It’s easy to use, plus it’s one of my favorites. I head back over to where the two men are tied up. Eyeing them warily, I can't help but wonder what these two did, especially for the old man to want them gone. Knowing curiosity will get me nowhere, I shake away the thoughts. I gave up wanting to know the reasons years ago, and I’m not going to start again now. I take another few deep breaths. I clear my mind again and start swinging the mace as fast as I can, putting all the power I can behind it. Gaining enough speed, I smash it into the man closest to me. It lands square into the side of his head. The weapon knocks out most of his teeth, and a couple of them go flying across the room as his body falls to the ground with a thud. He’s squirming in pain on the floor in front of me and has blood pouring out through his now mangled eye socket, along with whatever is left of his face. Yet, no noise escapes him. He’s not dead, but I will get back to him in a minute. I want to let the pain consume him for a while first.

Stepping out of the blood, I peer down at the second man, who now looks petrified, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Looking him over, I notice that he has already pissed himself. Disgusted, I begin to swing the mace again, and with a powerful blow, I smash it into his face head on. The momentum sends his body backwards, blood spraying out at all angles. This one’s a screamer. He lets out a series of screams as he lays on the floor in the fetal position. “Weak ass mother fucker, take a cue from your friend here and shut that hole in your face.”

I can’t help but grin as I walk back to the table to grab the bone saw blade. I normally wait until they are dead before getting to this stage, but cry-baby over there is getting on my nerves. It’s time to really hear him scream, give him a proper reason to make all that noise.

It takes about an hour to cut them up into nicely-sized pieces that will be easy to transport. My head is pounding by the time I’m finished. I hate when they scream, the sound grates on me. Like nails on a chalkboard. Wanting to get out of here as soon as possible, I bag up all the pieces so they are ready for their little trip. They are going back to the funeral home to be cremated. I will scatter the pieces into different coffins that are due to be incinerated that same week.

I start on the cleaning, because I like to do it myself, just to make sure I don’t leave any evidence. You can’t trust anyone. Especially, my old man. I can’t give him anything else to hold over me. After a few gallons of bleach and lots of soapy water, I strip off the overalls and gloves and put them into a separate bag, one I’ll dispose of myself.

As fast as I can I head out of the building. When I’m nearly clear of the structure, I pull out a pack of cigarettes. After completing a job for the old man is about the only time I smoke. It helps calm the nerves after the adrenaline drop. I light one up and take a few long drags, walking toward where Tony has parked. Throwing the bag into the back, I jump into the passenger seat. I take another couple of drags of the cigarette before disposing of it in the car's ashtray. I don’t even glance over at Tony as I say, “Let's go.”

I stare mindlessly out the window, trying to clear my mind. The smell of the cigarette still lingers, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I lean my head back against the headrest, hoping as I always do, that one day all this will be nothing more than a distant memory.

As we pull up to the house, I pull the ashtray out of the car, taking it with me along with the bag in the back. You can never be too careful in this line of work. I walk up to the house, push straight through the front door, and head upstairs to my room. Once I am inside, I can see that Linda, my housekeeper, has already started the fire in the open fireplace. Stripping where I stand, I take off everything until I am completely naked. One item at a time, I burn everything, including the bag with the overalls and gloves, and I even tip the contents of the ashtray into the fire. It adds a little accelerant to help everything consume faster. I stand there until everything is burned, glad that it doesn’t take long.

I move into the bathroom to turn on the shower, waiting for the water to be scalding hot before I step under the spray. I scrub until I am red and raw, not leaving any part of me untouched. Only after washing for a second time, do I get out. I don’t normally stay in the shower for so long but my mind is still reeling from today's events and I feel dirtier than I have any other day. Guilt and shame fill the air as I grab the towel from the rail and wrap it around myself.

I walk back through to the bedroom, checking the fire to make sure everything has been reduced to ash. Visions of the beautiful woman in the garden play in my mind as I rip off the towel, and jump straight into bed.