ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(48)

“Hey,” Frankie shouted. “Watch where you’re cutting. You’ll end up killing the geezer.”

Davie sat up straight, buoyed by his big brother’s comment. Maybe he doesn’t want to kill anyone after all. Why else would he have just told Shell to be careful?

“Isn’t that what you want?” Michelle asked Frankie.

“No,” Frankie replied. “Not yet, at least. Got to make him feel it first.”

Davie sighed. The brief glimmer of hope faded away. This couldn’t go on any longer, surely? What more damage could Frankie do? Penelope would never be the same again and most likely neither would Andrew. Rebecca still had a chance, though. She could still get through this in one piece if it all ended now. Davie closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made a decision.

It’s time I put a stop to this





Chapter Eighteen


Andrew was afraid, he could not deny, but there was strength inside him, too, that he’d never known existed. The pain he’d experienced, and was still yet to experience, was not enough to break him – in fact it had only made his resolve stronger. He wouldn’t beg, he would not plead. The hell Frankie put him through had changed something in Andrew. He had seen into the depth of his own physical being – the deepness of his soul – and knew now that he would never stop fighting for his family.

But things changed when Frankie had slashed Pen’s face. The pain of seeing his wife’s beautiful face disfigured found a way past Andrew’s barriers and struck right at his heart. A pressure grew inside his chest that threatened to explode his very being.

Frankie approached with a new weapon – one he hadn’t yet used to torture anyone. He held the pliers at arm’s length and snapped them shut menacingly. “Time for your dental appointment, sir.”

Andrew sighed and let his head drop to his chest, mentally preparing himself for another endless bout of agony. He sent his mind to a meditative place, a sea of calm indifference that offered a sliver of emotionally sanctuary. It was a place inside of himself that he’d not known existed before tonight. Pain and suffering had forced it into existence; rending itself into Andrew’s psyche out of necessity and survival.

“I’ve never done a root canal before,” said Frankie, “but I’m sure it’ll go alright. What do you think?”

Andrew said nothing. If he did then the animal might hurt his family some more. Whatever happened, he could take it – or at least tolerate – as long as it was done only to him.

Frankie grabbed Andrew’s lower jaw with his grubby fingers and yanked it open. “Dear, oh, dear. That’s some very bad tooth decay you have there. I think we’re going to have to get those teeth out ASAP. Every single one of them.”

The twins and Michelle gave a cheer to that as if it was the most exciting thing they’d ever heard. Andrew wondered if it was the drugs that made them this way, or if they were born wicked. They weren’t human beings, they were baying dogs – hyenas.

Frankie shushed everyone into silence and started his procedure. Andrew spluttered and coughed as the pliers entered his mouth. They scratched against his tongue and clinked against his teeth, sending aching shudders down to the roots. Suddenly, the steel tongs clamped down on either side of a molar and Andrew felt the tooth crack beneath the sudden pressure. Agony exploded thorough his lower jaw and travelled upwards to consume his entire face. His vision blurred as the pliers twisted side to side, yanking and wrenching the tooth away from the gum, millimetre by excruciating millimetre. Despite coming extremely near, Andrew didn’t lose consciousness. He was still awake to see Frankie to make a successful extraction and hold it in front of his mesmerised audience like a grizzly trophy.

Andrew’s mouth filled with hot, salty blood; so much that he thought he might drown in it. He spat endlessly to keep his mouth clear and the sight of all the gore seemed to cause a massive grin to stretch wide across Frankie’s twitching face.

“That shit is gross,” said Dom from a couple of meters away. “I could puke!”

“Pull another one,” Michelle screeched. “Do another before he passes out.”

Frankie took the pointed piece of enamel from the pliers and examined it between his fingers. He showed it to Andrew, waving it a couple of inches in front of his nose. “Mind if I keep this?”

The question disturbed Andrew. It was the type of thing a serial killer would do; keep a memento of his victim’s bodies. The notion of dying tonight was becoming more and more a reality to Andrew, but so was something else: If Frankie was going to kill him, he wouldn’t just stop there – couldn’t stop there. Pen and Bex were witnesses that this thug could not afford to keep around. If Andrew didn’t get free, Frankie was going to kill his family.