A Girl's Turmoil

Chapter 22 - Gardening

In the midst of a shrouded night, in a particular neighborhood. It's supposed to be a peaceful night, with no residents nor vehicles making any noises along the empty streets. But at such a house, there was a loud nuisance. One that no neighbors would bother nor awake to check. Despite the critters stubbornly creaking throughout the night, it was outshined by the sounds of hitting and beating from within. It was already late night, and most houses had their interior lights turned off, save for one, which is just beyond the front door.

Two men guard, or rather, wait for their leader to come back. They were dangerous looking and had a chip on their shoulders, smoking their cigarettes carelessly on someone's porch. From there, they listen to the beating, bashing, slamming, kicking, whatever else they hear from inside. They wanted to enjoy the sight of the agony of whoever was living within this house, but the leader personally ordered them to wait outside.

Inside the house, in the living room, stood a man looming over another poor man, the house owner. And at the far end of the corner sat a woman, a wife to the beaten man. She shook in the corner, having an uncontrollable spasm of fear, terror, and horror to what is concurrent before her. Seemingly almost paralyzed and can't dare to act.

On the floor, a severely bruised man curled up into a ball with all his dear life. His forehead bleeds as blood is pouring little by little from his mouth. His face, arms, legs, and torso were all turning purple from the heavy beating. Worse of all, he is unable to control the pain convulsing throughout his body.

And the man who has beaten him sneered in cynicism and rage. Rubbing his hair from the top of his black hair down to the purple edges of his afro hair, he gritted his teeth at the poor man as he sweated. Then he rubs his own fists with both open palms. He was angry but also enjoyed smoking him to a pulp.

"I warned ya' there will be a consequence, bitch!" said the man, steaming out of his head. "Ya' think tis' was a joke?"

"P-please..." the beaten man begged.

"Where's the money?"

The poor man could barely look. "W-wha-"

"Where's the goddamn money!?"

"N-no, we don't have-"

"You piece of shit!" *DUKH* the tanned man straight up kicked his back.

"AAAAAAAGGH!" the man screamed. "No more! No more!"

"Please! Stop!" the woman hysterically screamed. "He already had enough!"

"Shut the hell up, woman!" the tanned man yelled, pointing at her. "Or I'm going to mess your mouth up!"

"S-sir, p-please!" the poor man begged frantically, his voice squeaked. "Give me more time!"

"Or what?" the punk asked, cracking one of his fists. "To miss the deadline we promised again?"

The poor man shakily looks up to him. "B-but, you didn't say anything about the deadline-"

*DUKH*

He got kicked once again, and the provoked man was redder than his brown skin. "You shitface! Maybe I should punch your ears in to fix 'em! That's not your money, that's ours! And when you borrow them, you must pay 'em back!"

"But you said that it was free money!"

*DUKH*

He kicked the poor sod again, and the woman cried in her corner. "And you believe in that shit!? I almost feel sorry for you if you weren't such a dumbass."

"No, no, no, no, please, please!" the poor man slowly crawled back. "Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'll pay it back! I'll pay it back! Just leave my family alone!"