A Not So Silent Night

That strange, cold feeling happens in the pit of my stomach, and that voice in my head keeps reminding me that this is a bad place. People have died here, and not in the right ways. I keep going back to what that lady told me about this job at hand. What the kidnappers looked like, what weapons they had on them, how many there were and what direction they were going in when they took little Kimberly. So I sniffed around, looking for any piece of evidence I could get from every scumbag in Sin City, and I finally get word from some drugged up frat boy of where to find the sex ring.

And here I am now, after walking through snow and ice and whatever else Mother Nature feels like throwing at me, pretending to be a no-good, low-life child molestor. It's not one of my proudest moments, but I have to get in. Have to get in close. This is the only way they'd ever let a bum like me into that joint. I remember the lady's description of her daughter, and when I get there, I tell them I have a thing for ten-year-old little girls with blonde hair. They buy it, and they let me in. They take me down a bunch of steps that go on and on until it feels like I'm takin' a one way trip to Hell. And this place probably ain't that far off. They take me to a long hall and I see the three goons the lady told me about: two no-good thugs and some Nazi Dominatrix who looks like an Old Town reject. All three of them standing infront of a big metal door with one of those speakeasy windows And I can only guess who's on the other side.

They look at me, I hand them the money, and they open the window and ask if I like what I see. And I see a skinny little girl with long hair, shivering, crying, barely wearing anything.

I remember the picture the lady gave me of her. I know she's the one. Kimberly.

Suddenly everything goes crazy, just as I knew it would. Everything happens so fast and none of these sick bastards even see it coming. All I know is that I have Gladys in my hand and at this range, she can't miss. Guns are blazing left and right and blood and brains are spraying on the walls. I put a bullet each in those two clowns and in the process clip the Dominatrix. She falls on the ground, mad as hell, scared to death. Bet she never thought in a million years someone would get the jump on her. But here she is, staring down the barrel of a gun, and before I know it I'm pulling back on the trigger and her head splatters on the floor.

I don't hurt girls. It's not something I like to do. But what she did was far worse than me shooting her.

I open the door and see that little girl looking up at me. Her eyes are big and her skinny little body keeps shivering and twitching. She's seen bad things. She's been through bad things. And a big scary lookin' guy like me walking in here after a gunfight doesn't do much for her nerves.

"Your momma's been asking for you, Kimberly." I tell her. "Let's get you home."

She's like a deer frozen in the headlights by the time I walk over to her, but once she's in my arms and I feel her holding onto me for dear life, I know she understands. She knows I'm telling the truth.

She knows that I'm not going to let anybody take her away again. Not on my watch.

"Let's get you home..."