Page 3 of A Hail From Hell: Vol 1

Me. That’s what he wants to break.

A few of his men gathered behind Bruce, one hiking a baseball bat over his shoulder, another flashing Evan an amused grin.

Evan had seen that look on their faces a lot over the years, but every time it somehow spiked more disgust in him. He’d seen cat litter more sightly than those faces.

Pressing his thumb against his molars, Evan blew out a breath after confirming none of them had loosened. “Can we talk like adults?”

“We’ve been way too lenient on you,” Bruce spoke around the toothpick clenched between his teeth. “Even adults need disciplining sometimes.”

Another punch to his stomach, and Evan hunched over with a grunt, a metallic taste flooding his taste buds.

Bruce and his men barged into the house and, with a strong shove to his chest, sent Evan tumbling back into the living room. If he’d had anything other than a carton of chocolate milk in his stomach, he’d probably be sturdier.

Evan fell on his ass, sucking in a sharp breath before meeting their hostile gazes.

“This month’s due. Where is it?” Bruce asked.

Wiping blood from his lips, Evan stretched out his legs in front of him, leaning back on his palms.

One thing he’d learned pretty young was that if he didn’t try to fight back or made himself smaller, like sitting while they towered over him, they would beat him up way less. Maybe it gave them a fake sense of dominion over people like Evan, who avoided conflict as much as he could.

That just made him realize how pathetic both the parties were.

Evan cleared his throat. “I don’t have enough to cover this month’s due.”

“Excuses,” the man with the baseball bat groaned, clenching his fingers around the handle.

“Can you blame the fella? Poor thing isn’t built for conning.”

Evan sniffed lazily, fingers twitching to get a hold of a cigarette.

They’d always believed Evan went around scamming people in the name of exorcisms. A trick to make a quick buck. Evan had once tried to correct them and ended up with a black eye. His first ever ugly black eye. So, now he just let them assume whatever they wanted about him.

They were like mad dogs chasing after cars. If you stopped and tried to reason with them, all you’d get was a bite to your ass.

Crouching to Evan’s level, Bruce grabbed the front of his t-shirt and yanked him forward. The scent of alcohol and garlic wafted straight into Evan’s face as Bruce barked, “You think I buy that shit? Last time you paid three months' dues in advance. And now you’re suddenly broke?”

Right. Because spirits were lining up outside Evan’s door to be exorcised whenever he needed money.

The idiots couldn’t understand that he only got paidafterevery exorcism. Last time was a blast with lots of anxious parties with loaded pockets and haunted houses.

This month, too, was a blast. Only, the one exploding was Evan.

When Evan remained unresponsive, Bruce’s jaws clenched. Then a slow grin parted his lips—all yellow, chipped teeth. He clicked his tongue before plucking the toothpick from his mouth.

“Little shits like you should be taught a lesson every now and then, or you forget your damn place,” Evan barely flinched when Bruce dragged the spiky tip of the toothpick along his arms, digging it into his fair skin hard enough to leave an angry red line in its wake. “Wonder how many holes I can make in you this time.”

Last time it had been seven holes. A pair on each of his palms, one under his left toe, and two on the inside of his thighs. It was an old game Bruce liked to play. Every time he jammed his saliva-coated toothpick into Evan’s skin, the blood it drew felt dirty. Alien. Like he was bleeding for someone else’s sins.

The first time they’d done that, Evan was hardly twenty. He’d scrubbed himself in the shower for an hour straight, hard enough to leave red marks on his skin after. They’d been a bitter reminder of the assault for a few days.

Years later, Evan was used to it now, yet the disgust just heightened after every time.

Without warning, Bruce raised the toothpick to Evan’s face. The needlepoint hovered an inch from his eyeball. “Maybe if I stick it in your eye, I can poke your asleep brain awake.”

Evan’s heart dropped as the men cackled.

Not his eyes. Anything but that. Without his eyes, he won’t be able to see spirits, or Celie growing up, or Misty’s golden eyes, or study someone’s energy. Just as Evan considered sticking out his tongue for Bruce to pierce instead, a voice made all the men stiffen.

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