A single shot was fired through a pillow, sending white feathers through the air. It struck flesh, causing Alex to fall backward. Blood stained the newly painted white wall.
The silhouette of a man inched across the shiny new wooden floor. Alex moved into the adjacent kitchen, retrieving his bowie knife from the top drawer.
Breaching the living room through another entrance, Alex caught his assailant unawares. Coming down hard on the intruder’s hand with his knife, Alex knocked the gun from his grasp – but also lost his own knife. A flurry of heavy contact blows were swapped as both men grappled for control. Alex saw the glint of the blade as he fell back to the floor. The distraction gave his invader an opportunity to land a right fist to Alex’s left eye.
Alex reached the wooden handle and swiped in retaliation. It cut cloth and flesh across the mans’ torso.
His attacker scampered for cover. The heavy blows were fast closing his left eye. Alex lashed out at anything that moved, slicing the heavy six millimetre plastic covering the new furniture. The smell of fresh paint mixed with the musky odour of sweat.
The assailant shuffled accidentally into a standing ladder and fell down steps into the kitchen. Alex took the opportunity to wrap up his opponent, using masking tape to initially tie his hands behind his back.
Alex grabbed rope from the bottom kitchen drawer and pulled the man onto a kitchen chair. Alex looped it around his chest and hands – maintaining control.
The two men panted heavily, adrenaline sapping from their bodies.
“Let me go you bastard!” cried the bound intruder. He tried to wriggle from the rope around the brown wooden chair.
“Fuck you – you broke into my home! Waving this at me!”
Alex waved the Beretta 92G handgun in the air. He bent over, inhaling deeply. He placed the gun on the kitchen countertop, laying the knife beside it.
“Kiss my ass Alex Collins – I lost everything because of you,” added the intruder.
“Whoa! How do you know my name?” enquired Alex.
“You ruined my entire life!”
“I don’t even know you! Why are you trying to kill me?”
“Killing you was the only option I had left.”
“Why? Why me?” asked Alex.
His intruder stayed silent.
Hurting and bleeding, Alex turned from his trespasser and cupped water directly from the kitchen tap. He winced as he stretched his arm. The single muffled shot had grazed his upper left arm. His left eye was almost closed, affecting his equilibrium.
“Tell me how the hell did I ruin your life?” probed Alex.
The restrained man spat out a mouthful of blood on the pale kitchen floor tile.
“You’d better start talking!” added Alex.
“Well you’d better ring the authorities! My DNA is everywhere! My lawyer won’t look kindly on your free flowing fists or these crazy cuts you’ve made,” threatened the invader.
“Since when did you start dictating terms? Like hello? You’re tied up! Who are you?”
Despite his restraints the intruder needed to take control – and quickly. Alex was fit, if a little stupid.
Alex paced the kitchen, walking through some dripping blood. The red footsteps contrasted sharply against the cream parquet tile.
“Any chance you could loosen these knots a little?” asked the cocky invader.
“Tell me your fucking name first.”
“Okay, my name is James Kelly – former CEO of Lancer Insurance.”
“Lancer? Aargh! Aargh! As in the fucking company that refused to pay my fucking insurance claim, Lancer?” said Alex, a little incredulous. He tapped the side of his head for the first time.
“That was a simple misunderstanding that got, a bit out of hand.” James stayed cool and calm.
“How do you get a simple insurance claim so badly wrong?”
“I blame myself. I hold my hand up there. But you! You go on social media and drag the good Lancer name through the gutter!”
“I had every right to do so. I was wronged and I put it right. But if you had paid out, you wouldn’t be here now. And force me to radically change my plans.”
“What kind of plans?” asked James.
“You’ve fucking messed everything up – aargh! Why didn’t you pay out? This isn’t right, not right at all…”
Alex chewed on the stubs of his nails, biting skin at the corners. He started stretching his neck muscles. Breathing slowly through his nose, he calmed himself.
“You’ve ruined everything – do you know that?” stated Alex.
“This can all be sorted out. All it needs is a clean up and for you to forget this mess. I can make it worth your while to forget about this entire misunderstanding.”
“Mess? Misunderstanding? That’s a bloody understatement! You have no clue what I was planning for later tonight – do you? Maybe it’s only apt that you have landed on my doorstep?” stated a torn Alex.
“I’m not following you – what are you pissed off about?” James questioned.
Alex scratched his lower arms, tearing at his tattoos. He glanced at the small clotting pools of blood on the floor. He frantically mumbled to himself, tapping the side of his head once again.
“You broke your contract Alex – simple as that. The law is on my side. We were well within our rights to deny your claim,” James said simply.
“Quoting the law at me now? Really? Oh, the law will be of no help to you now!”
James needed Alex to make a mistake – distract him somehow.
“I read your report. Your contract simply states that if a private property is water damaged through extinguishment of a fire – no person is allowed to enter until an assessor gauges the estimation of repairs,” continued James.
“Do you live in the real world Mr Kelly? Don’t you realise that some things are so vitally important to some people? Aargh!” More consistent slapping of the side of his head.
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” said James.
“Let me show you then!” said an excited Alex, with eyes aflame.
Alex opened a door that led downstairs to the basement. The hinge creaked as he turned the brass knob.
James wriggled frantically with his captor disappearing. The rope loosened around his hands.
The sound of feet on wooden steps postponed his struggle. Alex dumped an old brown suitcase on the kitchen table. He got up close to James’ face.
“I had to go begging to the bank to renovate. So on top of your company not paying out, I had to remortgage my old mothers’ house! And I nearly lost these! My most prized possessions!” said an emotional Alex.
“What’s in it?” James twirled his wrist clockwise and anti-clockwise.
“These, could give me trouble. But I can’t live without them.”
James’s wrist was nearly free.
“What are they?” asked James.
“You really have no idea who you’re dealing with – do you?”
“You’re an asshole, I know that. Your actions cost me my company, my wealth and my wife. I have fuck all left in life – all because of you, Alex.”
Alex took a second, biting his lower lip, trying to stifle instinct. His neck tic had returned. That confirmed his gut. Despite the personal setting, the ritual would continue. Maybe this was fate intervening.
Just as James pulled his hand free, Alex grabbed the knife. In three fluid moves he slashed at James. The sharp blade sliced into his cheek, face and shoulder – cutting downward.
Mother would not have approved of more blood being spilled in the kitchen.
Alex roared aloud after he swung thrice.
“You FOOL! I had to evacuate at 4am after a fire from next door burned my living room. Firemen pumped enough water through my front window to fill a small reservoir! I thought on my feet, passing through your scene to collect all that is precious to me. I wasn’t thinking about insurance procedure – I was more concerned about these!”
Alex turned the case around to a screaming James. Arterial spray gushed from the open wound around his neck.
Facing James were seven digits with rings on each finger. Prizes held neatly in styrofoam.
“So that’s why you breaking into my home was a really bad move. You have forced me into changing my routine – I never bring my shit home. You should really know your enemy before going into battle, Mr. Kelly.”
Alex retrieved a pair of pliers from the top drawer. James tried cursing out loud – but a gurgle of anxiety from a half severed tongue was his last verbal utterance.
Alex snapped James’ wedding finger off.
James passed out.
Mother would not have approved of such mess – but Alex was in control now. Plastic was covering much of the chaos anyhow.
Alex’s ritual was in its eighth year.
