Title: To Break a Man |
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You look back down at the man lying down at your feet and you see that he is crying. It’s a strange hollow cry that echoes throughout the warehouse. It’s a cry that comes not from the throat but rather from the soul and you can feel it tugging at your own. It’s begging you for some comfort but you are its tormentor. Your goal is not to comfort, or hurt for that matter. You just need something more precious than his life. You need information. The crying is starting to subside but you know that what is coming now is the hardest part. You’ve had some experience with this after all. You see him turn his broken face towards you. His eyes are still intact and they are boring a hole through your soul. You’re not sure when these things started to affect you but you wish they would stop. You can’t afford to have any weaknesses in this business. “Why…?” comes the strangled whisper from his throat. You crouch down next to him and sit on your heels. You whisper your question into his ear. You whisper on purpose because it lends an intimate flair to the moment. And in a way this is very intimate. You are now more intimate with him than he has ever been with his wife. His wife after all, will never see the look in his eye that means that he is broken. She will never see the look of death that haunts him. You’re seeing both now. He manages to turn his head so that he’s no longer looking at you. He’s not going to tell you what you want to know. You get angry because then this will have been a waste. You could have stayed home tonight with your sick daughter and not ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes. Because even though you tried to avoid it, you know that some of his blood has stained them. You direct your anger at him and kick his shattered knee. He screams involuntarily and passes out from the burst of pain. You are angry with yourself now. That was a foolish thing to do. Now this will only take longer. You grab a nearby can of gasoline and unscrew the cap. You splash a bit onto his face and between the burning from the gas that enters his eyes between the cracks in his eyelids and the fumes from the gas that enter his nose, he wakes up again trying to cover his face with his broken hands. You see his wedding ring on his left hand and though it’s attached to a finger that won’t ever work properly again, you feel your weakness once more. It’s just a small frameshift but you notice it. You’ve never before let any of your weakness go unnoticed. On the contrary, you have sought them out and hunted them down. You have eliminated all of them, one by one. You can’t understand this strange pain in your heart now. It’s just not a part of the plan. So you try and understand it. You don’t even notice when you lay down the gasoline can and stand there staring at the man. Maybe because it was an unconscious gesture that brought it into your field of view but his wedding band burns an imprint into your retinas. That must be it. Because the last man that tried to hide behind his love for his wife and baby, you drove a pen into his eye. But eventually, he told you what you wanted to know. But this man hasn’t cried out to you for mercy because his wife is eight months pregnant. He hasn’t begged you for pity because his eight-year-old boy expects to see him come home tonight. He hasn’t even told you about them. But you know. You’ve seen them. You’ve even met them at the company picnics. No, he simply denies you the knowledge that you seek because he knows that he shouldn’t give it to you. And that degree of integrity astounds you. Love proclaimed under stress angers you. Laments about a life that has yet to be lived disgust you. Patriotism just makes you laugh. But this…this righteousness is not born from lies one believes about one’s country. It is not a product of romantic love. It is a belief that comes from understanding one’s values and knowing that without those values one might as well be dead. Not even you believe in something that much. Not even what you are doing now. You stand back up and he looks at you. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he actually pities you. As if that were really possible! He starts to cough and blood is coming from his mouth. Perhaps his cracked ribs finally punctured a lung. But you can’t do anything at the moment except stand there and watch him. You see him close his eyes and before you can help yourself, you wonder what he’s picturing. You wonder what you would picture if you were in his shoes. The answer scares you because it is the very answer that you have tried to deny to yourself for the last two years. You thought you had it all under control. You thought you had it all figured out. But what if you are wrong? Your legs force yourself to action, where your brain could not. You find yourself back beside the man and his coughing is getting worse. He’s going to choke on his own blood soon. But you’re angry and secretly very scared. He had no right to get into your head and you’re going to make him pay for it. You pick up the rest of the gasoline can and douse his convulsing body with it. His eyes open up again, but he’s not really a man anymore. Now he’s just an animal in agony. You light your match and let it fall upon him. As the flames engulf him, you back away slowly. You know that his screams are just reflexes now but it doesn’t stop them from echoing through your mind. There may be a million ways to destroy a man, after all you have tried so many, but as you back away from the flames, you can’t stop the small voice in your mind that thinks that you may have finally seen the one that can destroy you.
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