I took a step back and began to shake my head at him. My mouth opened to refuse his help when the loud sound of multiple footsteps emerged from behind me. Voices littered the air, and before I even managed to turn halfway, laughter sounded out. The words, “The fucker brought back up,” were heard.

“No –” I began to say, but it was too late. A hand gripped the side of my head. I let out a sharp breath, stunned with fear as he smashed my head against the wall.

All went black.

*

I stirred, feeling the worst pain in humankind in my skull. I was sitting upright on something hard. My back felt stiff, my neck ached, and my arms… Something was fucking wrong with my arms!

I opened my eyes to darkness. Something was covering them, and by reflex I tried to remove the cloth. The feeling of claustrophobia immediately hit when I found I couldn’t move my hands. My wrists were tied, tugging my arms so far back behind the horrible chair I was sitting on. I couldn’t even kick. My feet were just as tightly forced in place against the legs of the chair. Freaked out, I tried thrashing around. Maybe I could break apart the chair. It groaned and moved along the hard ground. It took me no time before I was sweating like a pig. My head throbbed and soon I was swimming in dizziness.

What the fuck –

“Don’t tire yourself out, boy,” came a rough voice. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

I froze. Every bit of me was on high alert. Whoever was in the room was uncomfortably close.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, more angry than afraid. “Why the fuck am I here? I’ve done nothing wrong –”

“Don’t be dumb. He called you for backup, didn’t he?”

“Nobody called me for backup. I was walking home from a party! I was drunk, man. I don’t know shit –”

“So then why was your ass in that alleyway?”

“Some guy was calling for help. I went to see what the hell was going on.”

He chuckled. “Either you’re the dumbest, unluckiest redneck boy I ever did see, or you’re trying to play me for a fool. Which is it?”

I shook my head as that anger grew by the second. “I’m not dumb or lying. I’m not a boy either.”

“No?”

“No!” I was seeing red now. “Get me the hell out of here!”

The fuckhead chuckled again. Oh, what I would give to have my hands on this bastard! I went hysterical, trying to get out of the chair. Having no concept of where I was or who I was dealing with, I became overheated and panicked. I felt like I was in a tiny box and the walls were slowly closing in on me.

“Calm the hell down. Jesus, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Then untie me!”

I heard shuffling sounds. Then footsteps. A hand gripped the cover around my eyes and tore it off. I blinked rapidly as light flooded into my vision, temporarily blinding me. Slowly objects began to form before me as I blinked away the stars.

I was in a cement room. Maybe a cellar. Fear shot through me as a face came into view, staring at me with a wicked smile on his face. The man was bald, had a light greying beard and shiny blue eyes. There was an unforgiving hardness about him, and I knew suddenly everything about my life was about to change. Either I’d die… or I’d fucking pay somehow for going to that injured man in the alleyway.

“What’s wrong?” the man said with a raised brows. “Don’t seem so tough now, huh? You know who I am, boy?”

I barely breathed as I shook my head slightly.

The man leaned over, whispering, “I can be your friend… or I can be your worst fucking nightmare.”

I didn’t reply. I could feel the sweat slide down my cheeks, giving away my anxiety.

“Which one do you want to be?” he asked, walking over to a makeshift table where a long line of knives lay.

Bloody fucking hell.

“Look,” I said, gulping hard, “I haven’t lied to you. I’m just some drunk fuck that stumbled across a man that called for help.”

“You sure about that?”

I shook as I adamantly replied, “Man, I’m a hundred percent sure.”

He picked up a yellow ended Spyder knife and turned back to me. There was a shine in those eyes as he strolled casually over to me, carefully looking at my face as he slowly roamed his fingers up and down the blade. He was trying to fuck me up with fear. And the fucker was doing a damn good job.

“How old are you, kid?” he then asked, pulling up a stool to sit next to me.

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” he repeated, nodding his head thoughtfully. “Still a fucking baby, hey? What’re you doing walkin’ the streets, drunk off your ass, answerin’ random men in alleyways?”

“My brother left me behind. Had no taxi money to make it home. Decided to just walk it when I heard him.”

“Right.”

I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. He was impossible to read.

“You live around that area I found you in?” he wondered.

“A few blocks away,” I told him.

“Huh. And that man you saw… Did you recognize him?”

I tried to remember the face in the alleyway. “It was too dark.”

“What did he say to you exactly?”

“That men hurt him, and that they were comin’ back for him.”

He was quiet for a few moments, staring down at the blade now. I watched as he casually cleaned the dirt from beneath his fingernails, as though this was just another normal event in his day. I wondered if he would think twice about me if he decided to kill me. Or was I just another number to him? Fuck, I needed to think fast.

“Do you want to know what’s going to happen to him?” the man continued, keeping his eyes drawn on the knife. “He owed me a lot of money. Decided that he wasn’t going to pay according to the timeline I gave him. He’s going to be swinging off a tree branch come mornin’ with a fake fucking suicide note written by him.”

Jesus Christ. Why was he telling me this?

“His name was Walter Wallace. Know him?”

The name was familiar. I knew the family, I realized. Hell, I’d played with the daughter when I was a kid.

I nodded slowly. “Don’t know him personally, but I know about him.”

“I reckon that man’s got that money kickin’ around somewhere. I’ll probably be tearing through his house. I might even start plucking off that fuckin’ wife of his too.”