Fight or Die

Jeff weaves in and out of traffic on his way back into town. His once blue coop now sports a white hood, roof, and trunk. He hated wasting so much time detailing the car, with his girl's lives on the line, but with helicopters flying overhead and the cops patrolling the streets, he knew it was the only way he could make it out of this alive.

During his busy work, Jeff decided it would be best to take care of Bambini once he knew the girls were safe. He just hopes to grab his daughters and be gone before the cops decide to stake out his house.

He knows saving the girls is a risky move. Two trained hit men against him isn't a fair fight, even with the advantage of surprise on his side.

He even considered calling the cops and telling them everything, promising to turn himself in once his children were safe. Jeff then pictured how that scenario would play out. He figures the cops will go in, guns a blazing. Shots would be exchanged, killing the goons and his girls. That's how the crime stories he watches on TV always seem to go. In a few of the stories, innocent bystanders are injured but manage to survive. Jeff tries to convince himself that would be the case with them, but he can't persuade himself enough to take the chance and make the call.

Jeff pictures his wife lying dead on the floor, his youngest daughter's battered body tied to the chair, dried blood trailing down her small, precious face. "It's my fault Julie's dead and Abby beaten. It's my fault. It's all my fault. I'm the reason they're in this mess.

Anger surges through him as his horrific crimes replay in his mind. All the destruction, the devastation he caused these past few days. Why didn't I go to the cops when this first began instead of letting it get this far out of hand? Julie would still be alive and the girls safe if I had. No, I had to be the hero and take care of it alone.

Joe's brutal interrogation replays in his mind. I should've come clean when I had the chance. Jeff slams his hands down on the wheel. He suddenly remembers how he initially planned to spill his guts about everything once he knew his family was safe. Then Bambini's overpriced mouthpiece storms into the room. Jeff knew anything he said would get back to the boss. So with his family's safety in mind, he decides it's best to keep his trap shut. I could've gone back after I ditched Mancini after Luigi and I finished our job. He remembers heading home, thinking he'll get them to a safe place. He finds two armed goons holding guns to his wife's and daughter's heads. It was too late by then.

Anger surges through him. And to think that I was naive enough to believe Bambini would leave us alone once I paid off my debt. I've watched enough crime shows to know that's not how the mafia does things. Considering me a loose end, he'd order his men to make me disappear, permanently. Jeff's anger turns into rage and his rage into hate. A simple loan is what got us into this mess. Fury rushes through his body. Jeff slams his hands against the wheel.

"It's my fault Julie's dead, all my fault. I'll never forgive myself for what I've done, never. Not in a million years. Jeff pictures his beautiful wife in his mind. I'm so sorry, my love, sorry I let you down. That I put you and the girls in this mess and that I played along instead of trying to rescue you the way a good husband would. I'll make up to your family to the girls somehow, some way, even if it takes the rest of my life. He wipes the tears from his face and adds, I promise you, baby, Bambini and his men will pay for what they've done.

Jeff glares down a familiar dirt road and says, "I'll be back for you, Bambini. I swear to you I will. The harrowing images of his wife and daughter pop into his head. Fire shoots from his eyes when he adds, You killed my wife and hurt my girls. For that, you and all your men are going to pay." Jeff wipes away the tears a final time. Death grips the steering wheel and floors the gas.

***

Julie's battered body flies across the room as Steven slams the kitchen door closed.

Regaining her footing, Julie rushes toward him, every inch of her frail body screaming in pain. Her anguish fuels her desire for revenge. Retaliation for killing the love of her life. For what he's done to them. Doubling her fist, she swings her arm around the way her teacher instructed her to do in her self-defense class. Her fist makes contact with her abductor's nose. Blood spews across the floor.

The man wobbles back and forth.

Doubling up her bloody fist, she draws back as she says, "This is for my girls." Using every bit of energy, she could muster, Julie roundhouse's him again.

"His tall, lean body stumbles backward. Tripping over the scattered junk, the man falls to the floor. The weapon flies across the room, crashes against the tile, and slides out of sight.

Darting across the room, Julie races for the back door. She pulls it open and remembers that her oldest daughter is still upstairs. She glances above her and then at the man to find he's slowly coming too. She then recalls all the horrid things he did to her and the girls. She then remembers hearing about over crowed jails and early releases. "He'll be out doing all this again before my girls are grown." Furry surges through her as she glances at the man. "You're not hurting another child ever again."

Julie jerks the utensil drawer open. The sharp cutlery clanks from the sudden pull. She's searching for a knife when she feels Steven's fingers wrap around her arm and squeeze tight.

"I don't think so." He slings her across the room.

Julies flies through the air, crashing against a shelf. An assortment of knick-knacks teeters above her. A few threaten to fall to the floor. Julie scoots out of the way. A bird statue topples over, smacking her in the head. Julie's vision blurs, and the room begins to spin. She shakes her head, hoping to clear the fog.

Grabbing a knife, Steven raises it and says, "Like I was saying, Bambini wants you dead." He stomps toward her.

Keeping her eyes on her attacker, Julie feels around, hoping to find something that would suffice as a weapon. Her hand smacks something hard and cold. She looks over and sees a cast iron pan. It was one of the first things she and Jeff bought for the house. She used it daily at first, but now it's just a keepsake, a memory of their humble beginning. One hit with that, and he'll be out cold, Julie thinks, reaching for the metal handle. Springing to her feet, Julie swings the pan around. The skillet thuds against the man's head.

Bitch he yells. Steven stumbles sideways and then folds to the ground.

Raising the pan, Julie thumps him again and again. The torture she's endured the past few days replays in her mind.

Blood gushes onto the tile floor, puddling around her feet as she continues to hit him.

The man's chest rises and falls a final time. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

Stopping, Julie stares at the body, shocked and relieved. Her pan is in the air as she watches for a sign of life. To her relief, the man's chest remains still. "I did it. I did it. We are finally free."

Julie is making her way across the kitchen when she hears footsteps coming down the hall. Julie raises her pan and waits.