Paco Valdez
AN
You decide not to struggle. There are too many of them for your resistance to get you anywhere. You cannot defeat them. There are just too many.
You lower your head and walk towards Jose, he steps aside and ushers you to lead the way. It's not as though you don't know the way.
His heavy feet fall in step behind you as you make your way through the house and out the back door. You step off the porch and drag your feet a little as you walk towards the barn out back. He prods you in the back with a thick finger that feels like steel.
He shoves you into the bar and slams the door closed. You rise to your feet in the darkness and pace around the place. There really isn't much you can do except wait.
Two days pass and you are a canteen of foul smelling water and nothing to eat in that time.
Late in the day the door swings open and three men walk in. Two big goons flanking a middle aged tough looking man. One of the goons is Jose, the other is a big Caucasian whom you've not met. It's the smaller man that captures your attention, however. His is the face you have been dreading. His is the face of Paco Valdez.
"So you are the man who fucked my woman," He says. He didn't ask it, just said it. There is a sinister edge to his voice that does nothing to comfort you.
"I didn't know," You start to reply. He cuts you off.
"You should have," He tells you. He looks to the men beside him. "Jose, Jim, make him suffer."
He watches as the two men step forward. They laugh at the fear in your eyes and begin unleashing your punishment; blow after blow of relentless pain. Each hit breaks something inside of you; bones, organs, and pride. You vomit blood and the abuse continues.
When death comes at last, you find yourself welcoming it.
You decide not to struggle. There are too many of them for your resistance to get you anywhere. You cannot defeat them. There are just too many.
You lower your head and walk towards Jose, he steps aside and ushers you to lead the way. It's not as though you don't know the way.
His heavy feet fall in step behind you as you make your way through the house and out the back door. You step off the porch and drag your feet a little as you walk towards the barn out back. He prods you in the back with a thick finger that feels like steel.
He shoves you into the bar and slams the door closed. You rise to your feet in the darkness and pace around the place. There really isn't much you can do except wait.
Two days pass and you are a canteen of foul smelling water and nothing to eat in that time.
Late in the day the door swings open and three men walk in. Two big goons flanking a middle aged tough looking man. One of the goons is Jose, the other is a big Caucasian whom you've not met. It's the smaller man that captures your attention, however. His is the face you have been dreading. His is the face of Paco Valdez.
"So you are the man who fucked my woman," He says. He didn't ask it, just said it. There is a sinister edge to his voice that does nothing to comfort you.
"I didn't know," You start to reply. He cuts you off.
"You should have," He tells you. He looks to the men beside him. "Jose, Jim, make him suffer."
He watches as the two men step forward. They laugh at the fear in your eyes and begin unleashing your punishment; blow after blow of relentless pain. Each hit breaks something inside of you; bones, organs, and pride. You vomit blood and the abuse continues.
When death comes at last, you find yourself welcoming it.
