Stories from the Vault: Payback

Remember that one short story I wrote? Waiting. I like to think of this one as a sort of loose sequel to that. It was written 10/12/14. Enjoy.

I made my way onto the balcony and looked at the view below me. Being in a hotel suite had its benefits, you had the lovely ocean view. Tourists would make their way down to the beach to catch a day in the sun, others would go straight for the ocean, swimming in the luscious blue waves. I sighed and looked at the city around the ocean. It was a beautiful sight, it was perfect. All too perfect. I held my glass in my hand and took a drink, the fluid hitting my dry lips with a cooling impact.

I smiled, all of this land was going to be mine. I put my drink back down onto the table beside me and wondered about how different everything could have been. If I hadn’t faked my own death on that pier. I would have been a nobody, that’s what would have happened. I wouldn’t be sitting in a hotel suite, I’d be in my apartment back in England. I still remember the look on their faces when I returned to their alleyway the following night. The look of horror on their faces as I took each of their lives. It wasn’t my fault they tried to kill me.

I stood up, took one last look at the view and headed back into my room. The cool breeze had not made its way into my room, but a person had. It was clearly a man, he had long, greasy black hair and a down trodden look to him.

“Can I help you? I think you’ve got the wrong room.” I said politely, I inched over to my set of drawers, not breaking eye contact with the man in my room.

“Oh, I don’t think I have the wrong room. You can’t help me. But I can help you.” He grimaced, showing a set of yellow and black teeth. At that point I was about ready to pull open the drawer, load a clip into my pistol and fire, but I didn’t. Something had intrigued me about this man and whatever it was it was keeping him alive.

“How so? I don’t need help.” I put my intrigue and questions to one side, I needed to find out who this was and how he got in here.

“Oh but you do, you just don’t know it yet. You see, I know what you’ve done. All the torturous things you did to people to get to where you are today.” His smile didn’t change, but a feeling of spite and hatred came out of it instead of odd and lost.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I took a deep breath through my nose, whoever this was would need to be killed if he knew what I had done. The things I did in the past are in the past, nothing more.

I slowly pulled open the top drawer, keeping my eye on the man, he hadn’t made any movement from the front of the door.

“If you’re thinking about killing me then don’t bother. I don’t exist, I’m not in any government books, no official documents. Killing me would achieve nothing but murder.”

“It would also achieve one less person in my hotel suite, so what’s your point?”

“Remember the two men you killed, in the alley? They happened to be very close friends with a very powerful Mafia boss. Antonio Cesswein is his name, I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Haven’t you?”

“I can’t say I’m familiar. You’ve intrigued me so far, but what’s it got to do with me? It was over twelve years ago.”

The man chuckled to himself and rolled up the sleeve of his coat to reveal a tattoo. It was a marking, a gang tattoo presumably. It had worn over the years, scars and dirt covered his arm but it was clear enough to make out. The man pulled his sleeve back down and looked at me.

“Did that jog your memory?” The man walked over to the gleaming cabinet on the other side of the room and poured himself a drink.

“Oh of course, make yourself at home!” I threw the man a look of spite and gestured the chair behind him. He sat down with a heavy sigh and took a sip from his drink. I sat down in the chair opposite him, adjusted my tie and took a deep breath.

“How long have they been looking for me?” If it hadn’t been for long I still had a chance, move to Portugal, start over again.

“A couple weeks now, they only just found the remains. You hid them quite well, probably shouldn’t have used the exact same pier you were dumped off of.”

“What do you want with me then?”

“I came here to warn you” the man reached inside of his pocket. I couldn’t take it anymore. I picked up the bottle I was drinking from, ran over to him and smashed it off of his head. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, the blood gushing out of his head. I spun his body over and found what was in his pocket. Not a gun, but a plane ticket, a one way flight to America.

I sat down on my bed, putting my hands in my palms. I finally realised what I had become, I was a monstrous drunk, on edge all the time and had nobody to reach out to. I was a wreck, there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing anybody could do to help me. I picked up the bottle of whiskey which resided on my bedside cabinet, unscrewed the top and downed the contents. I staggered over to the balcony and took a deep breath. The lovely fresh air rushed through me, but that didn’t change my plans.

It was the only option…


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