Train's Clash
Page 96
Turning on his computer, he searched the Internet, putting in the name that called to him. When an image of her popped up, his heart began to hum in his chest. It was a much younger picture of her; the scars on her face much fresher. They were bright red and unlike the faint pink he had seen today. To put it simply, they looked gruesome on her perfectly porcelain face.
Zooming into the picture of her, he gripped the mouse tighter, beginning to seethe with pure anger. The cuts were clean and precise, at a calculated depth to cause immense pain in the sensitive areas, and to scar her for life. He knew all too well those could only be caused by a knife.
Whoever the fuck touched her better be dead.
Going back to the search, he looked for who had marked her, but the only thing to come up was a car wreck she had been in three years ago. Reading the old newspaper article, he found out that her father, Maxwell Masters, was the one behind the wheel that night, and that her scars were blamed on the windshield glass breaking and hitting her in the face on the passenger side. Bullshit.
Lucca went back to the photo of Chloe, now zooming out to reveal her father getting sworn in to become the mayor of Kansas City, Missouri. Not a single scratch was on him, confirming what he already knew.
The thirst for blood now coursed through his veins. He was going to do anything and everything to find out what had happened to her the night she had received her scars. Anyone who had anything to do with it would be buried six feet under by the time he was done.
Looking at her bitch of a father and mother, he had a feeling the list was going to be quite long. They will all die.
Going back to his search of her, he wanted to learn everything he could about her.
Seeing a much more recent picture of her at some function, he stared at the image, his heart starting to hum even louder and somewhat satiating his blood thirst. Fuck, he wanted her even more so than he had ever wanted to be made or become the underboss.
His gut twisted at thinking about how long he was going to have to wait for her to become eighteen. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep himself from taking her, unused to these strong feelings. Her tortured eyes seemed to be screaming at him to save her, only making his urges worse.
Putting a cigarette to his lips, he flipped open the lid to his cold, metal lighter, burning the end to take a long drag.
Smoking always gave him something to do and focus on when his sick, twisted urges came up. He only hoped it was going to help him stay away from Chloe as well.
Flipping the lid close, he placed his zippo back on his desk before looking at the recent picture of her once more.
One single thought entered his mind.
Mine.
2
If Salvation Is What You Seek, Violence Is Not The Answer
Lucca sat in the tiny, dark room, waiting, wondering why his feet brought him here in the first place. The only times he would come here was when he thought about his mother. However, not since his mother had died had he ever sought penance. Penance was for those seeking absolution. He wasn’t that type of man. Lucca only sought retribution.
A swiping noise had him lifting his eyes to see the intricate window where hardly any light filtered through. He could see the shadow of the older man on the other side of the wall.
The thought of leaving entered his mind, but instead, the words came out like it had been just yesterday since the last time he had been there. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a long time since my last confession.”
As Lucca sat there quietly, unable to find words past that, the figure behind the wall spoke.
“Yes, my son?”
“My mother used to make me come here to confess when I was younger, but when I joined the family, she couldn’t get me here anymore. I still remember the day I joined. She begged and pleaded with me to come here. I told her there was no saving me after what I did.
“She used to joke, saying there was a demon inside of me. That was the day she realized there really was. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she saw me for who I really am, when she saw nothing but pure evil.” Lucca paused for a brief moment. “Still, somehow, even up until she was murdered, she believed there was a way to save me, that somehow I could still seek salvation after all I’ve done.”
The knowing voice filled the space between them. “Is that what you’re here for now; to find salvation?”
Gray eyes stared back at him in his mind. “Yes.”
“Then you must repent, my son.”
“I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation.”
The priest went silent for a minute. “Then what kind of salvation are you looking for?”
Now, in his mind, his fingers traced the scar following the path from her eyebrow down to her cheek before travelling down to trace the scar over her pouty lips.
“My salvation comes in a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“The rules, Lucca.”
“You know very well I’m aware we’re not to touch anyone underage.”
“Have you …?” The priest wasn’t able to finish his sentence, afraid of the answer he might hear.
“I am guilty of the worst sins, Father, but I’m not here to repent any sins I’ve committed. I’m here to ask for forgiveness of what I might do.” Will do. It was a question of when, not if.
“You ask for forgiveness for your future but not your past?” Even though there was a wall separating them, the perplexity in the old man was evident.
“The things I’m going to do to her, for her … I’m afraid will be the worst crimes I’ll ever commit.”
“If salvation is what you seek, violence is not the answer.”
Violence is always the answer …
“Like I said, I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation. My salvation will come as I lay my hands upon her, the very hands that have taken the life from the bodies of those who have touched her.”
Lucca went to leave the room, but the priest’s voice halted him.
“I’ve seen you sitting in my church every once in a while after your mother’s passing when you think no one is here to see you. God has seen you, too. I think you want forgiveness for all of your sins, my son.”
“Maybe you’re right, Father. Maybe a part of me hoped to find a path to my mother again, but the path I’m on now will only lead me straight to Hell.”
As he walked out of the room, he could hear the helpless prayers of the Father and the beads tightening as he gripped the rosary around his neck.
The prayers weren’t for Lucca, but for the souls the Boogieman was about to claim.
Zooming into the picture of her, he gripped the mouse tighter, beginning to seethe with pure anger. The cuts were clean and precise, at a calculated depth to cause immense pain in the sensitive areas, and to scar her for life. He knew all too well those could only be caused by a knife.
Whoever the fuck touched her better be dead.
Going back to the search, he looked for who had marked her, but the only thing to come up was a car wreck she had been in three years ago. Reading the old newspaper article, he found out that her father, Maxwell Masters, was the one behind the wheel that night, and that her scars were blamed on the windshield glass breaking and hitting her in the face on the passenger side. Bullshit.
Lucca went back to the photo of Chloe, now zooming out to reveal her father getting sworn in to become the mayor of Kansas City, Missouri. Not a single scratch was on him, confirming what he already knew.
The thirst for blood now coursed through his veins. He was going to do anything and everything to find out what had happened to her the night she had received her scars. Anyone who had anything to do with it would be buried six feet under by the time he was done.
Looking at her bitch of a father and mother, he had a feeling the list was going to be quite long. They will all die.
Going back to his search of her, he wanted to learn everything he could about her.
Seeing a much more recent picture of her at some function, he stared at the image, his heart starting to hum even louder and somewhat satiating his blood thirst. Fuck, he wanted her even more so than he had ever wanted to be made or become the underboss.
His gut twisted at thinking about how long he was going to have to wait for her to become eighteen. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep himself from taking her, unused to these strong feelings. Her tortured eyes seemed to be screaming at him to save her, only making his urges worse.
Putting a cigarette to his lips, he flipped open the lid to his cold, metal lighter, burning the end to take a long drag.
Smoking always gave him something to do and focus on when his sick, twisted urges came up. He only hoped it was going to help him stay away from Chloe as well.
Flipping the lid close, he placed his zippo back on his desk before looking at the recent picture of her once more.
One single thought entered his mind.
Mine.
2
If Salvation Is What You Seek, Violence Is Not The Answer
Lucca sat in the tiny, dark room, waiting, wondering why his feet brought him here in the first place. The only times he would come here was when he thought about his mother. However, not since his mother had died had he ever sought penance. Penance was for those seeking absolution. He wasn’t that type of man. Lucca only sought retribution.
A swiping noise had him lifting his eyes to see the intricate window where hardly any light filtered through. He could see the shadow of the older man on the other side of the wall.
The thought of leaving entered his mind, but instead, the words came out like it had been just yesterday since the last time he had been there. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a long time since my last confession.”
As Lucca sat there quietly, unable to find words past that, the figure behind the wall spoke.
“Yes, my son?”
“My mother used to make me come here to confess when I was younger, but when I joined the family, she couldn’t get me here anymore. I still remember the day I joined. She begged and pleaded with me to come here. I told her there was no saving me after what I did.
“She used to joke, saying there was a demon inside of me. That was the day she realized there really was. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she saw me for who I really am, when she saw nothing but pure evil.” Lucca paused for a brief moment. “Still, somehow, even up until she was murdered, she believed there was a way to save me, that somehow I could still seek salvation after all I’ve done.”
The knowing voice filled the space between them. “Is that what you’re here for now; to find salvation?”
Gray eyes stared back at him in his mind. “Yes.”
“Then you must repent, my son.”
“I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation.”
The priest went silent for a minute. “Then what kind of salvation are you looking for?”
Now, in his mind, his fingers traced the scar following the path from her eyebrow down to her cheek before travelling down to trace the scar over her pouty lips.
“My salvation comes in a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“The rules, Lucca.”
“You know very well I’m aware we’re not to touch anyone underage.”
“Have you …?” The priest wasn’t able to finish his sentence, afraid of the answer he might hear.
“I am guilty of the worst sins, Father, but I’m not here to repent any sins I’ve committed. I’m here to ask for forgiveness of what I might do.” Will do. It was a question of when, not if.
“You ask for forgiveness for your future but not your past?” Even though there was a wall separating them, the perplexity in the old man was evident.
“The things I’m going to do to her, for her … I’m afraid will be the worst crimes I’ll ever commit.”
“If salvation is what you seek, violence is not the answer.”
Violence is always the answer …
“Like I said, I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation. My salvation will come as I lay my hands upon her, the very hands that have taken the life from the bodies of those who have touched her.”
Lucca went to leave the room, but the priest’s voice halted him.
“I’ve seen you sitting in my church every once in a while after your mother’s passing when you think no one is here to see you. God has seen you, too. I think you want forgiveness for all of your sins, my son.”
“Maybe you’re right, Father. Maybe a part of me hoped to find a path to my mother again, but the path I’m on now will only lead me straight to Hell.”
As he walked out of the room, he could hear the helpless prayers of the Father and the beads tightening as he gripped the rosary around his neck.
The prayers weren’t for Lucca, but for the souls the Boogieman was about to claim.
