Final LockDown (18 page)

“I’m scared, I don’t want to do it dad,” I tell him as my hands begin to shake and sweat.

“What did I say about your ungratefulness Leighton? You will do as you’re told, you will aim that gun and pull the fucking trigger or there will be hell to pay.” The look in his eyes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen and it makes me shiver with fright. I know I have to do this right now or my arse won’t have a reprieve because of it.

I lift it like he has explained, aiming so the stick makes the lollipop, my arms are aching from the weight. I take a deep breath and pull the trigger.

Aged 15

“That’s it son, well done,” my dad encourages me.

This is the first time it is to happen, I have been trained and taught what to do. It is simple in my head; step by step has been planned by me. It is my first job and my dad has been pressuring me for the past week to make sure I am ready.

Age ten, I learnt to shoot, and now five years later I am taking my first human life.

Fuck! This is so messed up it isn’t even funny.

“A little tighter, you want him to feel it,” he tells me as I wrap the rope around the guy's limp torso. I pull harder on the ropes, the roughness cutting into my hands. “For fuck sake Leighton, tighter! A girl could get out of that.” My dad scolds me. I think he must have forgotten I am only fifteen years old. Sure, I’ve been forced to work out, building muscle and stamina, but I am in no way comparable to an adult man.

I put my foot on the back of the chair and heave the rope until it bites into the guy and he wheezes a little, struggling to draw breath. “Better, now secure it.” I tie it securely and let the remaining rope go.

“Now, over to you son. Make me proud.” It is sick, I had found out my dad’s job, the job he wanted me to have. He kills people for a living, not a nice quick-shot-to-the-head dead, no my father is sadistic, always drawing out their deaths, playing and toying and tormenting them till they wished someone would end their lives. I am being forced into this, I have no other option. As I have gotten older, I have explained to my dad, over and over, that I didn’t want to play any part in this fucked up business, but that is the point in time when his gun hits my temple and his finger lays on the trigger, ready to kill his own son.

I walk in front of the guy, bending down. At fifteen I am already nearing six foot and I am a little built from the weight lifting my dad insisted on. “So, here’s the deal mate. You’re obviously here for a reason so let’s get this over and done with okay, because I have a girl at home waiting for me and I don’t really wanna keep her waiting to be honest.” I slap his cheek lightly. I have to pretend to enjoy this or there will be hell to pay with my dad.

The only thing I have to look forward to in my life now, is Josie, who at this precise moment is in her house, waiting anxiously for me to come home. God she is perfect, and a year older so she has developed to an angelic standard. I had lost my virginity all of two weeks ago, and as of now, have fucked her a grand total of 53 times. Yes, I am counting because it is the only good thing in my life right now.

I am going to try my hardest to get through this, get myself home and wash away today’s filth and then go to her house and stay there, away from my father and away from that house.

“You can’t handle Josie son, she’s far too womanly for your scrawny self,” my father tells me. Thanks for the confidence dad.

“Wasn’t what she was screaming yesterday when she cum around my dick dad, so fuck off yeah,” I tell him. My balls are growing with my age and I am standing up to my dad more and more. I am now six foot, he’s only six two. There isn’t much height between us and I am far more muscular, agile and quick, than he is.

“Don’t be a brat.” My dad clips me round the ear and it pisses me off that he still treats me like a kid.

“So anyways, I’m in a rush so how about you tell us why you think you’re here.” I stand straight and pump my chest out a bit.

“Fuck you.” He spits at me. I’d probably do the same if I was in his position, being hunted and slaughtered like an animal.

I take my flip knife out of my pocket and bend down to his height again. I flip it open with as much noise possible. “Well, you see, that wasn’t the answer I required, and it just delayed me a little, so how about we give you an incentive to play nice. Either you answer my questions when I ask them, or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and shove them down your throat. So, let me ask again, why do you think you’re here?” I am turning a little sadistic myself and I damn my father to hell for slowly turning me into him.

“Because you brought me here.” He answers sarcastically and I lower myself again, placing my knife to his bound hands.

“Eenie, meenie, minie, mo,” I say as I point to one finger after another. “This one will do,” I say malevolently, lifting it from the position it is in and placing my knife to the knuckle joining it to his hand. I fight the urge to throw up because I am stronger than that, I need to be stronger. I dig the knife in prepared to, if I have to, take his finger off.

“Okay. Stop,” he shouts and I laugh at how easy he cracks.

“So, last chance before I just remove your hands completely. Why are you here shit face?”

“Be, be, be, because I killed someone.” I can see his eyes welling up and it makes me feel a little sorry for the guy, until I hear the cough of my father behind me and I decide his fate is much preferred than my own if I refuse to carry through this job.

“That’s right, well done, now, you know it’s bad to kill people don’t you, so who did you kill?” I am talking to him like he is a child; I know how much it pisses people off.

“My uncle,” he replies, his eyes at the floor.

“LOOK AT ME!” I shout at him and his head shoots up. His eyes are glassy with his petrified tears. “Good boy. Now, why did we do that?” I ask him.

“Because he pissed me off,” he answers and I laugh in his face.

“Because he pissed you off? Right, well, someone needs to learn to control their temper don’t they.” I slap his cheek again.

“Dad, what do you want me to do to this little prick?” I turn my head and look to him.

“You not taken in anything I’ve taught you Leighton?” I nod and take a deep breath as I prepare to kill him. I am beginning to get nervous now, my courage and guts withering a little.

He looks sad and scared as he looks at me with his dead eyes. I am about to take someone’s life, about to stop somebody from living.

Oh god!

“Gun son.” He orders me from behind and I slip it out from my belt.

“Goodbye,” I tell the guy and I push the muzzle to his skull.
Sorry,
I mouth and pull the trigger.

BANG!

“You seriously need to pull your shit together Leighton,” Marcus snaps at me as he spars with me, letting me vent some of the hatred that is manifesting inside of me. It has been two weeks since I left that hospital, every night my head replaying those horrid memories of how I became this tortured, violent psychopath.

I haven’t contacted anyone, not even my best friends know of my whereabouts. It isn’t fair to subject any of them to this, none of them have seen me this bad and I have no inclination to let them see me now. I am their leader, their strength; the last thing I want is for them to see me lose control and outright kill some poor bastard.

No, it isn’t happening. I am not returning to my home without complete control over myself and the dire need inside of me.

I haven’t even begun to chip away at the shell that encases the beast, let alone face it head on. I am afraid of what will happen when the steely resolve crumbles to the floor and leaves me beneath the rubble, whilst every person I love and care for try their hardest to pull me from under.

“Calm yourself kid, think. Control, precision, you will fall on your arse if you let this beat you, I can assure you of that little fact.” The fucker has been pissing me off all week with his words of wisdom. How the fuck does he know what I’m going through? Sure he thinks like me, as does every other psychotic prick on this shitty earth, but it isn’t like he does anything about the crap he is living with.

“Yeah, because you're so in control of your own fucking life Marcus, how about take a leaf from your own fucking book and sort your own shit out before you start criticising every move I fucking well make.” Wrong move Leigh, wrong fucking move.

“Think you’re tough mate; think you’ve been through half of what I have? You would crumble, you would fucking break into a thousand tiny pieces if you had endured even an ounce of what I have. So you ask, why I don’t take a leaf from my own book. I’ll tell you why, because of Him, because of that old fucking cunt who controls every aspect of my shitty existence. You think it’s easy to just walk away? I’m not like you Leighton, I can’t just run away every time something happens that isn’t under my control. You need to face your problems Leighton, all this anger, hurt and self-hatred, it will keep building, manifesting inside of you and drowning you, to an extent you won’t be able to wake in the morning without the scent of blood around you. You really want that? You want to be waking up next to your wife, son and baby and the first thing you crave, instead of her warm tight cunt, is the warmth and scent of blood.

“You live and breathe it, it controls everything you are and you would do anything to just taste a few drops of the adrenaline and the erection it fucking gives you.” He starts pushing me, his hands firmly on my chest. “You fucking want that do you? You want to lose everything you fucking have? Because if that’s what you want Leighton Fucking Lock, then go, go kill people, go ruin everyone’s fucking life like you’re doing your own because right here and now I couldn’t care for your pussy-hole bullshit any longer, I have my own crap to deal with.” He breathes out harsh, his face mere centimetres from my own. His darkened eyes glare at me, making me cower. I think of everything he has said, about waking and not even caring for my wife, that is not what I want. I need to be there for her, Joseph and for Melissa at the very least.

“Sorry.” I apologise instinctively as though he has some strange power over me. It is fucking strange, I don’t apologise to anyone, well other than Abbi, but she has a firm fucking grip on my nuts that I know she won’t let go of until I do as she asks. Funny thing, being the Dominant one out of us, and in the bedroom she succumbs to my every need and desire, but outside I am like a fucking lapdog to her, at her beck and call, wanting to please her.

“Good, now, where do you want to go from here? You going to pull your head out of your arse and do as you’re goddamn told or am I dropping you off home where you will continue to ruin the best thing that ever happened to you?” I look at him intently, is he stupid? Of course I want to change, otherwise I would never have left my wife in such a vital time of her life.

I don’t need to answer; he sees it spread plainly across my face. “Good choice. Now we need to get to the route of your obsession. Mine's simple, I grew up with violence, saw enough bloodshed for it to be normal. I had so much hate for the world that feeling that fading of a life brought the greatest pleasure to me, it brings me power to make me feel like I am the boss in this world. I suppose my sexually dominant behaviour also stems from there too,” he admits to me and I relate to him, because from as early as I can remember, my father taught me there is no good on this earth, only hate, greed and violence.

I breathe heavily and then sigh, flopping to the floor and leaning my back against the plastered walls of the shed we’ve acquired for the past week.

“Kid, you have to let go of the past to even have a glimpse of a future. You will never truly rid yourself of this feeling, these demons, they’ll always be there just as any addiction is, but you can learn to control it and only, and I mean ONLY EVER KILL THE ONES WHO DESERVE TO DIE. Because believe me, there are plenty of them in this world. Aim for them, go for all those fuckers. Your job gives you enough opportunity to fulfil the need.” I nod and rest my head back against the wall.

I wipe my hands over my face, ridding myself of the sweat that has built up from fighting.

“It’s hard, you know. Trying to live as everyone else expects me to. Being told to calm myself when I’m on a job, to stop with the punches or to not cut someone so much. But, no one understands it, they don’t understand that I need to do that, to be able to go home sated and in control, I need to end somebody that way. It’s still there, after all the exercises you’ve taught me this week the need is still as strong and potent, I fear it will never leave me, that I am doomed and cursed to be alone, without the love of my family.” It is hard not to cry at that thought; losing Abbi will be the hardest thing yet. I have to use her as my muse, use her as my inspiration to better myself, because if I lose her, I might as well lose every drop of my humanity entirely.

“I know kid, trust me I get it. It still gets me, every now and then I let lose, let the beast out, but I reel him back in and get him in the cage before he stays out. It’s okay to fall back, we just have to know when to grasp the tethers of our real lives and pull ourselves back to solid ground. To be in control,” he advises me and I look to him like he is a guru or some shit.

“What if I don’t want to, what if I don’t want to be in control anymore? The pressure is too much. I can’t handle being the one everyone needs all the time, but no one ever being there to pick me up when I’m crumbling before them.” It has always been that way. I have always been the stupid naive kid who looks after everyone, even my siblings. I took beating after beating to save their arses, but no one, not even my own family were there for me when I lost everything. I was exiled like a piece of shit to grieve by myself.