The Dark Saints

Rule One - Never Snitch

Rule One – Never Snitch

He shoves the ripped contact into my chest; I stand strong, looking at the pathetic soul with a glint of hate in my eyes. “He fucked it all up Miss, all of it. He took my stuff, every single last piece of it. He threw it away, soaking half of it in water destroying it all, and then ripped up this contract. We had a deal!” He yells at me, his spit covering my face as he rants on, complaining about this guy, snitching.

“Who” I reply, not wanting to deal with this twat.

“Joe T, Joe T did it Miss”

I pick the guy up by the collar, lifting him up to my level. I remove my sunglasses from my head staring right into his eyes. “You’re real short you know that” I say, as I smirk at the short bloke. I pull a pocketknife from my belt, opening to reveal the 3 inch blade. I press the blunt side against the guys nose, watching as sweat drips down his face. “Name” I demand

He gulps, staring at the blade which lies on his nose. “Daniel” He says.

“Well it was nice knowing you Daniel” I reply as I lower the knife and stab him in his lower stomach, he cries in pain as I pull up on the knife, opening his entire abdomen. I remove the knife and drop him, he lies on the floor. His insides spilled in a pool of deep red blood. I hold up my knife, staring at the red substance which smothers the once clean blade. I place the glasses back over my eyes, stepping over the dead fool, making my way to the wash room. The room holds silent, as the once noisy chatter from behind grinds to a halt. The entire room’s eyes lay on me, as I pull down my glasses and nod at them, but their eyes still stare in a trance of shock and terror. I stop and turn to them, still holding the stained knife in my blood covered hand. I look at them, scanning my eyes across each member, which I know I own. Taking a step forward, I hold the knife horizontally in front of me, holding it firm. “Rule one” I say in a loud voice “Never snitch” I smirk, leaving the crowd with them little words, hoping they get the gist of the new rule plan I’ve got set out.

I enter the brand new set out wash room, which is set with 8, blue walled cubicles; they’re supported by 6 sinks and 4 hand dryers which sit smugly in the far corner. I turn the tap on at the first sink, watching the warm water spill out of the metal object as it rinses off the sticky, red liquid. It washes off into the sink as a dim pink, spinning and twisting down the drain like a forgotten memory. I think nothing of the kill today, things happen, people die the end. Apart from I broke the most crucial thing of all, never look into the eyes of the people you kill. I saw his family, a girlfriend, best friends, loyal pets, a happy life. Full of money, dreams, happiness, love, and very little hate. He wasn’t meant to be here, he was never meant to be in this house of death, this house for people with trouble in their lives. That’s what I do; I find people, the kind who sits crying in the street, or the kind which flip at you if you barely walk so close. Then I bring them here, introduce them to the family, train them, and give them skills beyond any army, which none of this they can deny. They swear to the book of rules, and swear to my hand in loyalty. Many of them say it’s better this way; they love the company, the freedom. Many others say it’s a prison, and we’re dragged in for my good not theirs. Well of course that’s true, but why would I tell them that?

I finish washing my hand, and I cleanse off the last piece of blood on my once drowned pocketknife. The guards stare at me, like some eagle zoned up on its unfortunate prey. They’re disappointed with the way I work, they’re new boys. So of course they would. You can never understand till you’re in my shoes, feeling what I feel, hurting like I hurt, and seeing what I see. To you, you see nothing close to what I see, you see it completely different. You’re an idiot, you’re worthless.

Later on in the day and it’s almost supper, 6:30pm is when it’s served and the clock hands lay on 5:45pm now. I take a step into the kitchen, breathing in the smell of deeply fried chips and hearing the sizzle of the steaks, as their once red surfaces turning a deep brown full of oozing juices and taste. I stare over the burgers, disappointed by the complete being of this disgusting meat. I pick up one with my pocket knife and throw it, aiming directly at the hanging pans which were swaying so gracefully. “What the fuck is this” I yell, marching right over to the head chef, as the pans smash on the floor, clanging and bashing to grab everyone’s attention. The rooms eyes once again lay on me, every chef and helper comes to a stop. But in this closed in kitchen, no one else can hear you scream. The head chef stares at me, panic fills his deep brown eyes. “It wa…wasn’t my…my idea Miss I promise” He says to me, stuttering like an idiot.

“Whose was It then” I say smirking, knowing the exact mistake he’s about to make.

“His, it was his Miss!” He says, pointing to a random bloke in the room.

“Oh that’s so sad” I say pretending to put a sad face on “what a shame”

I grab a large kitchen knife out of its holder on the shelf beside me, examining the large blade, and how it glistens against the bright kitchen lights. I look to him, watching his eyes grow wide in disbelief. I hold the large blade up, pressing the tip lightly against the bottom of his chin. “What did I tell you all earlier huh?” I say to him, deliberately looking at the knife and not him.

“Um…I…uh…don’t know Miss” He stutters gulping, so the knife presses slightly deeper into his chin.

“Wrong answer” I say, presses the knife head upwards so you can see the tip press through the top of his head. He goes limp, I drop him and his body crashes against the floor, the knife pushing deeper into his blood oozing skull. I kick the handle hard, watching as most the blade now sticks out, bringing pieces of mushed brain and deepened blood. “As I said” I say loud enough so the rest of the chefs know “Never snitch”