Baby It Was Divine
car stopped it took four of them to haul me out of the trunk and through the
door. They stripped me naked and threw me into the chair. Two more were needed
to tie down my arms and legs. Six goons total. I almost felt like I was
winning. I turned my head to the guy on my left and spat blood and mucus on
this face. He launched a haymaker that landed dead center on my ear. A howitzer
shell exploded in my head.
I was working for The Bastard for
only a couple of months when I
first saw her. She was standing on the far side of the room and I remembered
how her long blonde hair flowed down her back like ocean waves made of gold.
She turned and caught me staring at her. Like a dream moving in slow motion, a
warm smile came upon her beautiful face.
quick. A guy started pounding brass knuckles into my left side. Another one
went to work on my right. The cracking of my ribs echoed deep in my ear drums.
Everyone has that time in their life
when they dive into
something that they know they shouldn’t. Well, that’s how it was with us. In
the beginning, it was just a lustful craving that we both felt we needed. Like
two magnets, north and south. Which later turned into a romantic friendship
with its laughter and sadness and despair. Then it turned to the most dangerous
human emotion for both of us. Love.
A big hairy-knuckled lug stepped
up to the plate. His closed fists
looked like two cinder blocks. He danced the left-right number across my face.
My head dropped when he was finished. Out of my one good eye I saw teeth, part
of my lip and what I thought was the pulpy mass of an eyebrow laying in a pool
of blood on the floor.
see, we were
playing a dangerous game. She was The Bastard’s wife. And that created two gut-wrenching
problems for me. I knew he didn’t like to let go of his possessions and I knew
that I couldn’t live without her.
One of them
drew a knife. He bent down and sliced my right Achilles tendon. A hot rubber
band snapped up my leg and slammed into my calf like a shotgun blast. He cocked
his head and smirked at me then he moved over to my other leg.
We talked about how we could make
it work. She wanted to just
break away and leave him. I thought about killing him. I never told her that
because she didn’t have
that much hate in her. But I did. And I came up with a plan to knock him off.
punk came at me with an electric drill in his hand. The bit kept stalling in my
kneecaps and he had to keep yanking it out to free it. My bloodcurdling screams
caused my back to arch which intensified the agony in my chest from the
I wanted her far away from him and
his strings before I did it.
I set her up near a little dusty town in Southern Utah. In an old Mormon
farmhouse that I thought we could fix up and have a quiet life together. I was
in my apartment, packing up my things and getting ready to head out to take
care of The Bastard when they came. Six of them.
When the cobwebs cleared,
the goons were lined up in front of me. I saw six haggard faces. Their jackets
were off and my blood laid in dark red streaks across their untucked white
shirts. Brown sweat stains ran down their backs and under their armpits. I put
a smile on what was left of my face and wanted to laugh, but couldn’t.
A door opened, and The
Bastard walked in.
One of the goons told him
that they worked me over for three hours and I wouldn’t tell them where she
He came over and looked down
at me. The harsh light forced a dark shadow across his pompous face.
“Look at you. All of this
could have been avoided.”
His voice seemed distant,
like a light whisper.
“She’s the reason you’re
God, how I loved her.
“She’s the reason you’re all
busted up now.”
God, I never hated a man so
“And she’s the reason you’ll
be dead a minute from now.”
Then he just stood there,
like he was waiting for me say something.
I dropped my head to my
chest and managed to get one word out. Asshole.
Then I had a cloudy vision
of her sitting alone in that farmhouse while the sound of his voice echoed in
“She’ll be found.”
“She’ll be found.”
“She’ll be found…”
I lifted up my
head to look at him. I knew he was right.
He turned and nodded to the
men before leaving the room.
Six guns came out, pointed
dead center at my chest.
The ancient Greeks called
love “the madness of the gods.” Before I
met her I never knew what the hell that meant. We had our stretch together and
nothing could ever take that away from us. It happened. And it is stamped on a
point along a timeline that runs forever with no end. It is there and it will
always be there. I know she is here with me now and she will be with me
forever. Wherever God sends me.
P.K. Augustyn was born and raised in
Buffalo, N.Y. He
is a U.S. Navy veteran and has worked at a
leading high tech company in Rochester N.Y. When you don’t see him walking
the streets of Western New York, you will find him kicking up dust in the
deserts of the American Southwest. He has authored numerous short
stories. Some can be found at Near
to the Knuckle and, of course, Yellow
Mama. He is still laboring on his first novel, featuring a
Polish-American private detective operating out of Buffalo, NY.