“Is it money you want?” he pleaded, as I tightened the zip-ties binding his wrists. I shook my head, ‘No.’
She continued struggling against her restraints, “Try all you want, you ain’t getting loose.”
Picking up my bat, I asked, “Who’s first?”
No answer, so turning to the husband, “How ’bout you?”
“No? Her then,” as I brought the bat down on her left arm, leaving her screaming in agony.
“You’re turn,” I said, cracking his head open.
She glared at me, eyes filled with anger, absent any fear or pain that had been there before. That one died, bravely.