“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.


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