The intruder yelled.
Sergio made a cut on the other cheek.
Blood dripped from the man’s face, but he kept his lips firmly locked down.
Sergio knocked him back with his head and then tackled him to the floor; knife still in hand, he straddled the man and cleaned off the knife with his shirt. “So here’s the thing. I went to medical school for a purpose…” He sighed. “Don’t think I ever told you what that was, Andi.”
I slowly moved toward them. The man’s eyes bugged out; he was terrified, and I knew why.
The air in the room was chilled.
It had shifted into something of Sergio’s own creation. He wasn’t just a killer because it was necessary.
No, he’d actually come alive in that moment… like he’d been waiting all week for someone to attack him, just so he could come out and play.
“No,” I said calmly, “you didn’t tell me why.”
“I didn’t want to save lives,” Sergio continued. “I wanted to take them, but here’s the thing. Knowledge is power, don’t you think?”
The guy squirmed beneath him.
Sergio landed a blow to the man’s gut with his free hand and lifted the knife into the air. “Death can be so… creative.”
“Oh?” Damn the man was beautiful when he was angry. His teeth flashed in the moonlight.
“I wanted to learn how to inflict the most pain, without actually killing someone.” Sergio held the knife above the man’s abdomen. “Cut too low, and you bleed out, and where’s the fun in that?”
The man fought like hell.
Sergio held him firm. “But a little higher…” Sergio shrugged. “…and to the right, so I don’t puncture a lung, and I can drive this knife at least a few inches in, and twist. The twisting’s the best part. Care to know why?”
As he talked, his accent became thicker and thicker. I was frozen in place. Who was this man?
“I don’t care,” the victim said. “Do your worst.”
“I intend to.” Sergio stabbed the man in the stomach.
He wailed out in pain.
The knife twisted. I couldn’t look away.
“Who sent you?”
“Petrov!” the man yelled.
“Why?” Sergio twisted harder; blood started soaking through the man’s shirt.
“He said to bring her!” The man was full on sobbing. “Don’t kill me. I have a family. He said he’d pay!”
“A family, you say?” Sergio removed the knife. “Then by all means, I should let you go. It’s not like you just tried to take away my family, my reason for living.”
I let out a little gasp. Had he really meant that?
“Oh wait.” Sergio snapped his fingers. “You did. So you die.”
“No!” The man’s eyes met mine. “I have children! Please!”
Sergio slapped the man across the face. “You don’t look at her, and you don’t beg like a little bitch just because you couldn’t get the job done.”
“But—”
Another punch to the jaw. “You know where I live. You know where Andi is. No chance in hell you’re getting out of here alive.” Sergio didn’t turn around. “Andi, bring me the largest knife you can find from the kitchen.”
I didn’t move.
“Now,” he said in a calm voice.
I hurried into the kitchen. The largest knife I could find looked more like a machete, which really had me questioning if that was what it was. It wasn’t like we lived in the bush and needed to fight our way through it while hunting for antelope.
I came back with the machete and handed it to Sergio.
“I said—” Sergio leaned down. “—don’t look at her.”
The man continued to sob and wail.
The moonlight reflected sharply from the machete as Sergio brought it over his head and with one fail swoop.
Chopped off the guy’s right hand.
I’d never seen anything so gruesome. Even though I’d been around it, I’d never witnessed it firsthand.
I had to fight to keep myself from puking
Blood was everywhere.
The man’s body was convulsing.
And then Sergio leaned down and whispered, “You’re lucky I didn’t cut out your heart, you bastard.” He slowly rose to his feet as the man grabbed his hand and tried to scoot away.
Sergio let him make it as far as the door before he bent down and scooped up his discarded gun, firing one shot, directly to the back of the man’s head.
The room was silent again.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?” Sergio dropped the gun and cleaned off the machete.
“Why give him hope? Why let him think you were letting him go?”
Sergio turned to me, his eyes dark. “Criminals are still human… and it would be inhumane to not give them one last flicker of hope.”
“Or maybe,” I argued, “it’s worse… letting them see freedom, yet taking it from them?”
“Maybe.” Sergio calmly placed the knife on the table and walked toward me. “Are you alright?”
I took a step back, holding my hands up.
He frowned. “Andi, I would never hurt you.”
The room was tilting, my breathing uneven. I knew — I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but he’d just cut off a man’s hand.
“I just need a minute.”