PAIN

“I will not sign them.” I stood my ground, even though the courage was newfound to me. It was coming from a place I did not think I owned.

A hiss escaped Mancini's lips as he waved his hand.

There began the second round of my assault, even more painful than the first. Blows to my head made me dizzy. Those to my side and stomach made me feel a crack in my rib that made me howl with pain, and one that struck my crotch made me want to pass out.

“Get him up.” Mancini ordered.

They were rough with doing this, and it was one mighty pulse of pain that hurt so much that I couldn't stand straight. Keeping my eyes open was becoming a Herculean task, as they were so swollen that it hurt to move my eyelids.

“Why won't you sign them?” Debbie asked.

It was unbelievable for me to hear her voice in this place. She was still here, watching them beat me up. It brought me a bit of shame.

“I won't let them take you away from me.” I managed to say, despite the blood that filled my mouth and even went down my chin in drools.

A slap smarted my cheek.

By far, it was the lightest to have struck me amongst all. Even the hand that did it was the smallest, but that was the one that hurt most. None of them, no matter how painful, had gotten past my bones. This slap was an arrow aimed straight at my heart, and it lodged itself deep in there to realise that the woman I was fighting for was never on my side.

“I don't want you to have me, Alex.” She insisted, in the most evil tone I'd ever heard. “I only married you because we need the public to believe that I am married to somebody else, not Mancini. How could you think that a poor bastard like you could ever marry a girl from the Alves family? Now he has come to take me back, and you have to sign the divorce —”

“Or I will kill you.” Mancini's baritone finished. “Do I need to show you that she's mine, and has always been mine?”

I turned my face away, not wanting them to see me cry.

“Get Alves out of here.” I heard him command, to my surprise. It looked like the person doing all of this wasn't even my father-in-law, but this gangster, and all on his own accord.

The older man was moved away before he pulled my wife to himself and crushed his lips upon hers roughly. When he lifted his lips from hers after what seemed an eternity, he turned to me, laughing.

“You see, she's mine.”

I let my head drop, my heart broken by the sound of her chuckling, which stopped all of a sudden.

“No… not here… not in front of him, or them…” I heard her wince after a few seconds.

“Shut up and do as I say.”

I raised my head and there he was, fumbling with the straps of my wife's bra. She was struggling to keep this small bit of clothing on, but he got it off anyway, and she was left naked from the waist up.

“Move him from the bed, and make sure he sees us. I want him to watch. He'll be made a cuckold for not signing those papers as quickly as we wanted.”

“No.” I shook my head, suddenly realising what he meant to do.

“Please don't do this. Not in front of him. Not in front of them.” Debbie cried as he shoved her onto the bed which was supposed to be our matrimonial one.

The five minutes that passed after that was the worst five I had ever been put through. They pulled on my hair to keep my eyes open, only stopping when they confirmed that I was watching. What they were forcing me to watch was much worse — with Mancini thrusting into my yet untouched wife as she pleaded for him not to do it, not in front of us.

His eyes were on mine the entire time, an evil grin on his face, and never had I hated a man so much as our eyes met. Once, I tried to struggle to get him off her, but a punch reopened an old wound, keeping me still until he finished, rolling himself from her at last.

“Will you sign the divorce papers now, or do I have to do something worse?”

I said nothing, too weakened to do anything else, and when the papers were brought, they came with a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding where one of my fingernails had been forcefully removed, and a table and chair for me to fit my broken body in. It took me aeons of time to adjust myself well enough to sit in the chair, and even more to hold the pen in my hand, but eventually, I signed.

“You could have saved yourself so much if you did this earlier.” The gangster heaved, rising up and taking the paper from me as though it were gold. He went to grab Debbie — who had only sat down with our cover curled around her when he got off, crying the entire time. For a moment, our eyes locked, and I hoped she read enough meaning into what I hoped she now realised.

‘I would never have done that to you, Debbie. Never do anything against your will, or try to hurt you'.

She looked away, and the men were well off when the one who I hit with the blunt sword stopped and turned to look at me.

“And what do we do with him, boss?” He asked.

The question was alarming to him. What had they not done, that they would want to do something else to me?

His answer came fast.

“Kill him.”

In the distance, Debbie screamed.

“No… no…” I yelled, “I did everything you asked.”

The man wasn't listening. He pulled out his gun and cocked it at me, which left me sure that he was going to kill me. I did not doubt it.

I never thought that I would see Death before me, but it was there, in the small hole of that gun, and the first shot hit me in the stomach. I felt it go in there, and even rupture whatever works sat in there, but he was not done.

He took aim again, and this time, it went into my forehead.

The darkness came swiftly after that.