Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I'm about to die because I like to play video games

Episode Date: June 22, 2022

🎧 Check out my new True Crime podcast called Crimehub. Just search Crimehub in the search bar to find it. 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube:��https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The fist to my face knocked a couple of my teeth loose and whipped my head sideways. I was taped to a chair, but I certainly wasn't feeling like James Bond. I didn't have any special training or a hard-nosed attitude. In fact, I was scared shitless. I wanted to cry, but at least I stopped myself from doing that. Keep your fucking mouth shut, the guy who punched me said. He was wearing a black mask. but I could tell he had white skin underneath, and a reddish beard.

The other two guys in masks stood back behind him, watching me with cold eyes. It was too dark on that side of the room for me to glean any clues about what they looked like. Not that I wanted to know. I learned from movies that it was best not to see the faces of the people doing shady shit to you. It meant there was a chance you'd make it out alive. I didn't know where I was. The room looked like it belonged in a house undergoing renovations. The floor had no carpet, but I could see the glue left behind on the floor, telling me that the place once had carpet.

Half the walls were exposed beams, while the other half had fresh drywall in place. So a house, probably an older one. I looked around, unsure what else to do. I wanted to ask what they wanted for me again, but I didn't want to risk another fist to the face. So I kept my mouth shut. And then someone walked into the room. Someone I recognized. I started moving in my chair, screaming,

and trying ineffectually to break out of the layers of tape. The guy with the reddish beard walked behind me. I heard a click and then felt a sharp knife blade pressed to my throat. All this from playing video games, I thought. What a joke. What a poor fucking joke. I was about to die because I liked to play video games. My favorite games were mostly first-person shooters, but I also enjoyed some racing games.

Xbox was my outlet and had been for many years. As an introvert, it was also the most socializing I did when I wasn't forced to, like when I was at work. I liked being able to join a party with my friends, many of whom lived in different states, and still have a good time joking and talking while playing. While other guys in their late 20s were going out to bars and trying to get laid, I was playing call of duty or battlefield at home. Not that I didn't want to get laid. I just never liked being around a bunch of people.

And I'd never been good at talking to women. I'd had a couple of girlfriends in high school and college, but nothing serious. And I was pretty successful running client accounts at a digital marketing agency. But by the time I was done with work every day, all I wanted to do was sit down on my nice couch and play some Xbox. So that's what I did most of the time. Then, one day, a friend of mine from high school who had moved to Indiana after graduation

brought someone new into a party chat. There were five of us playing Hall of Duty Vanguard when Danny came on with a new player. Gamer tag, Flower Power 94. What's up, everyone? Danny said over the chat. Your best player is here. Oh, and I brought a friend from back in the day. Everyone?

This is Nora Duran. Everyone said hello, welcoming her to the party. The name rang a bell somewhere in the back of my mind, but I couldn't place it. I hope you don't suck, Nora. Shane said, half joking. Funny. She replied. I was thinking the same thing about you.

That brought some chuckles from my friends. She had a sweet voice that was kind of velvety when she was talking low. It's a little sad, but I immediately started wondering what she looked like. picturing a brunette that was hot, but not hot enough to be out of my league. Hey, Dean. Danny said, talking to me. You remember, Nora. I think you guys met once or twice back in the day. I thought about that for a moment. Sorry, Nora. Your name is familiar, but I can't place it. I said. How dare you, Dean? She said, clearly overselling it.

I'm heartbroken that you don't remember me from meeting me over a decade ago. What? Did you guys hook up or something? Shane said, chuckling. Yes, we did, Norris said. Her tone's serious. I'd been laughing, but I stopped immediately. I hadn't been a particularly crazy high schooler, but there were definitely some nights from that time in my life

that I couldn't remember, thanks to booze and weed. So I started searching my memory, wondering if I really could have hooked up with a girl and not remembered it. Likewise, all my friends. friends went silent, too. The way Nora had said it was so sincere, it shut everyone up. No, I'm just kidding, she said finally. This got some genuine laughter, even from me. Holy shit, you had me worried there, I said. I thought you were going to tell me I had a kid next. There was silence from Nora, and for a moment I thought I had offended her. But then she laughed

softly and said that I'd dodged a bullet. As well, as well, We played. Nora Danny and I talked about the night that Nora and I had met. It wasn't anything special, just a dumb high school party. Nora del Sol high school, while my friends and I went to Marcos Denisa. Both schools were pretty close to each other in Tempe, Arizona. Slowly, the memory came back into focus. I remembered her being a pretty girl that was definitely out of my league back in high school. Who knows what she looked like now, years later. But I remembered her being a brunette. That night, we played late. Before I knew, all my friends had signed off, and it was just Nora and me talking and playing games. Turned out we were both still living in the

Phoenix area. Before she signed off for the night, she told me it was nice talking to me, and that we should get together sometime. I said, sure, thinking she wasn't really serious, that it was just one of those things people say. When I signed on the next day to play, paying of disappointment when I didn't see her. I kept hoping she'd play that night, but she never did. The next night, she did join our party while we were playing the new Halo game, and we stayed up late again, chatting way past when all my friends signed off. So what am I going to get together? She asked. Oh, you were serious? I said, laughing. Yes. She said, a smile in her voice. I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't serious. Well,

I'm up for it whenever. I work weekdays from 8 to 4, so any other time is fine. Great. How about you pick me up on Friday and we'll go do something? She said. What's your phone number? I'm going to text you. I gave her my phone number, then asked, what do you want to do?

I'll leave that up to you, she said. Good night, Dean. She signed off. A minute later, I got a text from her, saying she was excited to see me again after so long. I was excited too. She didn't play any more games with us before Friday, but we did text back and forth a few times. She sent me a picture of her,

which only made me nervous about the date. If anything, she'd gotten prettier than what I remembered from back in high school. She insisted I sent her a picture, so I did, trying to get my best angle, which was ridiculous, because she'd soon seen me in person.

She replied to my picture with a heart of, eye, smiley face emoji. Friday came around, and I left my house around seven, heading to the address she'd given me. It was a house in a neighborhood in Gilbert, about seven miles from where I was living in Tempe, like many houses in the Phoenix area. Hers was tan stucco with a red tile roof. It was one story with a garage. There was no grass in the front yard, which was pretty normal for the desert. Instead, there were native plants that could survive on little water planted and gravel the same tan color as the house. I parked at the curb on the quiet residential street and walked up to the front door. The sun had set about a half hour ago, but it was still warm out.

I rang the doorbell, hearing the chime sound inside the house. I stood there for a long minute, then rang the doorbell again. Another 30 seconds passed, and I heard no movement in the house. I knocked, and then pulled out my cell phone and texted her, telling me. her I was at the address she'd given me, just to make sure. I walked back out and checked the numbers on the facade next to the garage. Yep. Right house. I looked at my phone. There was no response, so I put it away. I knocked and rang the doorbell one more time. Then I decided to leave. Either she forgot about the date, or this was some strange prank. Maybe I'd snubbed her in high school or something, and she was still mad about it all these years later.

That didn't seem plausible, though. I wasn't the type of guy to snub a pretty girl. Not then. As I walked to my car, another thought popped into my head. What if something had happened to her? What if she was still in there? Unconscious from slipping in the shower or some other accident. I stood at my car, looking back at the house for a long moment.

Then I tracked around it, marched up to the door and turned the handle. Nora? I called, stepping into the entryway. I immediately saw signs of a struggle. There was an overturned shoe rack just inside the doorway on the right. The shoe spilled all over the hardwood floor. Hello? I called, stepping further into the house.

My heart rate shot up like a bottle rocket. There was a door to the kitchen on my left, a hallway on my right, and a small living room straight ahead, the back of a couch facing me. A splash of red caught my eye from the right. Blood smeared on the hallway wall. I moved toward the living room, but it looked right to see down the hallway. I didn't want to go that way, because I thought someone might still be in the house. But I needed to look.

There were more blood smears along the hall, and a couple of framed pictures had been knocked down. By now, I was close to the living room, but I hadn't looked there yet. I knew I had to call the police. I probably should have done that as soon as I saw the bloody smear. Pulling out my phone again, I glanced to my left, my angle giving me a full view of the living room over the back of the couch. I yelled out and dropped my phone upon seeing the woman lying on the living room floor. Her eyes had been gouged out, leaving behind only hellish-blooded sockets, but her eyes weren't completely gone. They had been put in her mouth, gazing out from between

her teeth, wide and dead and unblinking. The woman was wearing a pink t-shirt that was stained with blood from the stab wounds all over her abdomen. Two fingers on her right hand had been broken, as evidenced by their jaunty angles. I knew it wasn't Nora. This woman looked nothing like the picture I had on my phone, but that didn't make it any less horrifying. Snatching my phone off the floor, I fled the house, dialing 911 as I went. The police held me for questioning for several hours. I guess it's pretty common in murders for the same person who finds the body to be the killer. But once they determined that I'd been at work when the murder happened, they cleared me and let me go. They'd taken me into the station in a squad car, so I had to get an Uber back to my car at the house.

There were still crime-seeing people there doing their thing. I knew they hadn't found Nora's body in there. And I gathered through the questioning that they assumed she'd been kidnapped. The blood on the hallway wall was hers, apparently. They didn't seem hopeful that they'd find her alive. I didn't feel like gaming when I got home. In fact, I didn't feel like doing anything. But I did text Danny to tell him about everything that had happened.

Since he was the one to invite her to our gaming sessions, I figured he'd want to know. Jesus, that's terrible, he texted back. That's insane. They killed a roommate? Apparently it was a roommate, yeah, I messaged back. Then something occurred to me. How did you two hook up again? I asked.

Remember Jonas from school? I don't think you were friends with him. He hit me up out of the blue on one of the gamer forums I frequent. He mentioned Nora in passing one time, and I asked how she was doing. He invited her to the chat, and we started talking. I thought about that. The only Jonas I could think of was a shady guy who'd always showed up to school, zonked out on some drug. I couldn't remember his last name. Jonas who?

I messaged back. The druggie? Yeah, Danny messaged. Jonas Welch, although he tells me he's sober now. I told Danny thanks and that I'd keep him updated if I heard anything. That night, as I tried to sleep, I couldn't stop picturing that woman, nor his roommate, with her eyes gouged out and placed in her mouth.

It was strange. I started thinking that it wasn't a normal way to kill someone. It seemed like a message or something. Or maybe I just watched too many movies. Still, I couldn't sleep. So I did a search for that kind of killing, and I was surprised at the results. According to Google,

the eyes-in-the-mouth thing was the signature of a particularly nasty drug cartel, the Jimenez Cartel. A new story dated a week earlier explained that the Jimenez Cartel was at war with the Marquez Cartel, and that it had been spilling over the border, especially into Arizona, where much of the drugs came through. So why would they go after Nora and a roommate? It didn't make sense,

unless they were involved in something shady. When I finally fell asleep, I'd promised myself I tried to contact Jonas Welch to see what he knew. I thought I could help the cops out by bringing them some new information. Granted, they probably already knew it, but I'd I felt compelled to dig a little deeper. I had this silly feeling that it was what Nora would have wanted me to do. She seemed like the kind of woman that her man would fight for. It was silly, but I suddenly felt like I could be that kind of guy. I'd always wanted to be that kind of guy. The kind who steps up and actually does something, instead of just sitting on his hands, waiting for other men to do the work. Nora had awakened something in me, and I liked it.

I just hoped she was still alive. If she was, I'd find her. I'd do whatever I could to save her. Finding Jonas on Facebook wasn't hard. We had several mutual friends, and he had probably shown up in my suggested friend feeds many times over the years. I'd just never paid much attention.

But I was paying attention now. I sent him a request and waited. It was Saturday, so I had no work. I started researching handguns. I learned that, as an Arizona resident, there was no waiting period to get a handgun as long as I passed the background check, which apparently took minutes at most.

I wouldn't need to register the gun, and I wouldn't need a permit to carry it concealed on my person. While I was doing this, I started fantasizing about rescuing Nora from her captors. In my mind, it played out like a movie, the good guy up against the odds. but prevailing in the end, there was a little voice in the back of my head that told me, life wasn't like the movies.

I shrugged it off, seeing no reason why I couldn't train with a handgun at a firing range and become proficient. How hard could it be anyway? Before long, I got a notification on my phone saying I was now friends with Jonas, and that I could message him. I did just that. Did you hear about Nora? I sent. The little green dot on Jonas' picture told me he was online. And soon enough, the three little dots told me he was typing. Fan of soccer, you could assist at a moment historic.

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exclusively on Paramount Plus. Hey man, been a while. He messaged. No. What's up with Nora? She's been kidnapped. The cops are looking for her, but I figured I'd ask you about it since you hooked her and Danny up recently. Do you know if she was into anything dangerous? Like anything to do with drug cartels? The little dots came up again.

Whoa, dude, Jonas messaged. Holy shit. You serious? No. I haven't even seen her in a long time. We just talk about games and forums mostly. cartels? That doesn't sound like her. Do you know what she did for a living? I asked. This time, the three little dots didn't come up immediately. And when they did, I found the message that followed estranged.

I just let the cops do their thing, man, the message read. You don't want to mess with the cartels. Or was her roommate's death not enough for you? I read back through the messages, confirming that I hadn't said anything about a roommate. I supposed he could have read about it in the news, but then why did he lie and say he didn't know what happened to Nora? So you do know what happened, I messaged. Why did you tell me you didn't? Again, the little dots didn't appear for several minutes.

Just drop it, the message said. And then Jonas went offline. This didn't stop me. I messaged him right back saying, Tell me what you know, Jonas. I'm not going to stop. I'll give the cops your name if you don't. tell me what you know. I waited for him to message back for several minutes. But then I decided

I needed to be proactive. I needed to buy a gun. A couple of hours later, I returned home with a Glock 19 and a box of 9mm ammo. I had fired the gun at the indoor range attached to the gun store, getting a feel for it. It was definitely harder than I thought it would be. But this didn't dissuade me. Checking my phone again, I saw Jonas hadn't messaged. me back. I was starting to think that my threat hadn't worked. Unsure what else to do, I fired up my Xbox and started playing. I joined a Call of Duty team deathmatch game and was playing well for a little while until some player named MC123 came on. It seemed like every time I turned around,

he was there, getting a headshot on me. After several rounds of this, I received a message from him, drop your little investigation, where the game will come true. Who is this? I messaged back. Jonas? But the player was gone. I thought about the gamer tag, MC1-2-3. Did MC stand for Marquez Cartel? I left the mansion stood up, picking my new gun up off the coffee table. I went to the window, separated one of the shade slacks, and looked out at the street. It was late afternoon, and there wasn't a whole lot of traffic. Everything looked normal. I went back and sat on the couch, trading the gun for my phone. I messaged Jonas again, asking him if he just threatened me on call of duty.

When my phone vibrated, I figured it would be Jonas texting me back. But it wasn't. It was a text from a number I didn't recognize. The message had a Google Map Street view image of my house. Nothing but the picture. The threat was clear enough. I swallowed hard and picked up my gun. feeling like I was in over my head.

I no longer felt like the capable man who could prevail against all odds. I just felt like me again, introverted, normal, and alone in a house. Anything could happen to me. Anything. Panicking, I texted the number back, saying, I have a gun. I sent it, but it didn't make me feel any better. In fact, as I read it again, I thought that it sounded like an invitation. So I quickly typed out another message.

I'm calling the police. I sat on the couch, a gun in my right hand, and phone in my left, waiting for a response. None came. The next few hours passed with torturous slowness. I didn't hear back from Jonas or the nameless number. I didn't get back on Xbox Live again either, for fear that MC123 would be on there, waiting for me.

I was dozing on my couch when I heard something outside, like the crunch of boots on gravel. I still had my gun in my hand, and I jumped up from my couch, making it to the window quickly. As I lifted one of the window-shade slats, a dark figure passed in front of the window. I didn't know if it was a man or a woman.

It was impossible to make out any features. It just looked solid black. I jerked back, my heart, thudding in my ears so loudly that I thought I wouldn't hear it if someone broke out one of my windows, Gathering my wits, I stepped back up to the window and lifted the slat again, peering left and right, seeing no figure. Shaking with adrenaline, I moved to the door, unlocking it and yanking it open,

then stepping outside, gun first. It was dark, the sun having set hours ago. The orange glow of streetlights provided some illumination. I went left first because that was the direction the figure had gone when it passed by the window. As I came to the corner of my house, I pivoted around, seeing nothing but my brick fence. I went across to the other side of the house and did the same thing, seeing no figures. As I went back toward the front door, I heard a sound from the street, like a whimper. Turning my head that way, I saw a woman walking her dog.

She stared at me, her eyes flicking from the gun up to my face as she doubled her pace and hurried along. I'd left the front door open when I went out. but made sure to close and lock it when I made it back inside. I thought about calling the police, but I saw two problems with that. One, I was starting to think the black figure was a figment of my imagination. Two, I thought that calling the police might be enough of an excuse for those threatening me to make good on their threats. So I sat back on my couch, trying to decide whether I should involve the police.

As time passed and the adrenaline faded away, I felt myself growing sleepy again. So I laid down and closed my eyes, my gun resting on my chest, cupped gently in my right hand. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, there was a masked man looming over me.

A gloved hand slapped over my mouth, and my gun was nowhere to be found. Something pricked my leg, and pretty soon I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Sleep sucked me under like quicksand. When I woke up again, I was taped to a chair in an unfinished room. There were three guys in masks, one of which was leaning down in front of me,

slapping my face and telling me to wake up. Where am I? I said. What do you want? Shut up. The guy said. Just tell me what you want and I'll do it. I said, nearly screaming. The guy hit me, knocking a couple of my teeth loose and whipping my head sideways. The pain was overwhelming. All the bravado and bluster I felt back in the safety of my home, back when I convinced

myself I could actually help find and rescue Nora, was gone. I wanted to cry. I was afraid I was going to piss myself. Keep your fucking mouth shut, the guy who punched me, said. I noticed his reddish beard through the mouth hole of his mask. Footsteps echoed from outside the room. I could see that the carpet had been torn up in the hallway, as well as in the room I was in. The lack of carpet, combined with the fact that many of the walls were naked down to the studs,

made the footsteps much louder than they would have been. And a moment later, I realized that the women's high-heel shoes making the noise were also to blame. I looked up and into Nora's face as she came into the room. She looked just like the picture she'd sent me, only better. She wore a tight blue skirt, a white blouse, and a sparkling necklace that looked like it cost as much as my car. I didn't know exactly what was going on, but I knew that she played me somehow. I started rocking and shaking in my chair, anger turning me into the person I wanted to be. Of course, it was too late to save myself. I knew I was dead. The tape held like I knew it would. I was doing

nothing but wasting energy. The man with the reddish beard stepped behind me, and soon I felt the blade of a knife pressed to my throat. I stopped moving. Keeping her gaze on me, Nora walked up, stopping a few feet away. She shook her head sadly, her flowing brunette hair swaying with the motion. Why did you have to go snooping around? she asked me. I picked you because I didn't think you would have the balls to do that very thing. I guess a lot can change over the years. What is this? said, why me? Didn't I just tell you? She said.

I needed someone who I wasn't really associated with to call the police. They wouldn't have believed it otherwise. Who? The police wouldn't have believed it? I asked. Nora shook her head. Look, Dean, she said. I'm not going to explain to you my plan, like some villain in a movie, okay?

All you need to know is you fucked up. up. You should have just gone back to your sad little life, but you couldn't, could you? You went and bought a gun. You started asking questions. This is on you. I don't understand. Why me? Why not just have your neighbor called the police or something? I could have, but she stopped suddenly, then cocked one hip out and put a hand on it. You really don't remember me, do you? She said. remember you, I said, vaguely. God, isn't that just how it goes, she said. I've been hating you for all these years. Meanwhile, you don't even fucking remember me. I would be furious if I didn't know you were about to die a slow and painful death. Listen, I said, I don't know what I did,

but I'm sorry, okay? I never meant to hurt you. I was a different person back then. Whether you You meant to or not, doesn't matter. It still happened. So what was it? What did I do? I asked her. I was thinking hard, trying to remember. But nothing came to mind.

Certainly nothing that was worth getting killed over. You got my baby killed, she said. What? No fucking way. You're thinking of someone else. You're wrong. No, it was you, she said. It was a house party.

I can tell you the exact, date, but I doubt you'd remember. We met early in the night. A couple of hours later, you stumbled into the bedroom where I was fucking Max Miller. You don't remember that? I shook my head. What the hell does this have to do with me killing your baby? Nora stepped up to me, gesturing for the guy with the reddish beard to move the knife from my throat. Once he did, she grabbed me by the neck. Just fucking shut up and listen, she said. She choked me for a minute, a small smile in her face. Then let me go just when my vision was going out. I gasped for air and caught as she continued. You backed out of the room, saying you were sorry. But then what did you do? You went downstairs

and told my boyfriend about it. She paused for a moment. Remember Devin Arnold? He had a bit of temper. But he didn't do anything that night. I mean, aside from going upstairs to see for himself, it was the next day when he took it out on me. He beat me so bad that I had a miscarriage and had to have my uterus removed. I didn't know I was pregnant until they told me at the hospital that I'd had a miscarriage. But that was it. Of course, you wouldn't have known, would you? We went to different schools after all. And you were oblivious to it all. In your own little world,

the consequences of your actions. I couldn't believe it. I had no memory of this. And even if I had, it was insane. Of course I felt bad about the inadvertent consequences, but blaming me was insane. I didn't even know Devin was your boyfriend, I said. You said yourself we went to different schools.

How the hell would I know that? Shouldn't you blame Devin for beating you up instead of me for accidentally telling him you were cheating on him? Devin got his a long time ago, Nora said. But all this shit is incidental. I wasn't about to come to your house and kill you or anything. I could have done that at any time. But some very bad people are after me now. And I knew I had to get away to make them believe I was dead.

And if they came to you for questioning, well, that was a bonus. But then you had to keep digging into it, asking questions. So now I get to do the thing myself. I suddenly realized that Nora, or one of these guys, had killed her roommate to make it look like the Marquez cartel had done it. She wanted to throw both the police and whoever else was after her off the trail. Nora looked at the guy with a knife who was still standing next to me and held out her hand. Jonas, give me the knife.

I realized that the guy was Jonas, that he was part of this whole thing too. Jonas? I said to him as he stepped around and handed her the knife. Shut up, he said to me. Nora stepped up to me and dragged the knife down the side of my face, cutting a gash in my left cheek. I screamed out as she smiled. Then there was a sound from out of the hallway, a loud bang, like a door being kicked open.

The two guys in masks at the back of the room pulled out pistols and moved into the hallway. What could only be a shotgun blast blew a bowling ball-sized hole in the first guy. Bullets from a semi-automatic slammed into the second guy, flowing his head apart. He fell in the doorway. Nora and Jonas were standing behind me, cursing. Their voice is high with fear. Jonas had a gun pointed over my shoulder. They were using me as a human shield.

You will not get out of here alive, Nora. A man's voice called from the hallway. He spoke English with a Mexican accent. Tell Jonas to put the weapon down, and we will go easy on you. We just want the money. Shit, Nora said. Shit, they were watching this asshole the whole time.

I knew she was talking about me. Do not make me wait, the voice said from the hole. Put the gun down. She said to Jonas, loud enough for the guy in the hall to hear. What? Jonas said. You're kidding. He has a thing for me.

I can talk to him. She said, whispering this time, just put it down or we'll both get killed. Jonas tossed the gun. Okay, the weapon is down, Nora said. Two Hispanic men wearing slacks and pastel polo shirts came into the room. One of them, with a semi-automatic rifle. and the other with a shotgun. They pointed their weapons at Jonas and Nora.

One of them spoke in Spanish. A moment later, a man with a gray beard and a matching gray suit stepped into the room. Nora, he said, shaking his head like a disappointed father. Come here, step forward, both of you. Nora and Jonas stepped forward their hands up. You can put your hands down, the man said. Step forward. I want to see you.

As Nora stepped forward, I noticed that she still had the knife. It was tucked in the back waistband of her blue skirt. What were you thinking, Nora? The man said, closing the distance. Why would you steal from me when you could just ask? She has a knife! I called out.

In her waistband! The man with the beard looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time. Then he turned back to Nora. Is this true? He asked. Nora nodded. Let me see it. As Nora reached back to retrieve the knife,

she looked at me. I could see nothing but hate there. She pulled the knife out and handed it to the man, Handel first. The man looked it over as if it was a piece of jewelry and he was trying to determine its value. He looked slowly from the knife to Nora and back again. Then he jammed the blade into Nora's throat, right under her jaw. He grabbed the back of her head with the other hand and brought his face close to hers, ignoring the blood that was getting on his hands and his suit.

Nora convulsed and made wet, muffled coffee. nothing sounds. No one steals from the Jimenez Cartel, he said. Nora answered by spitting up a bit of blood onto her chin. He pulled the knife out, but still held her up with one hand, staring into her eyes as she bled out. Then he let her go, and she crumpled to the ground. Jonas had a shotgun pointed at his chest so he could do nothing but watch. The man with the gray beard turned his attention to Jonas. He told him to take off the mask and then drop his pants. Jonas refused, and the guy with the shotgun blew off his right hand. Jonas fell to the ground, gripping his right wrist and screaming.

The three men started in on him. When they were done, there wasn't much left of him. It took him a long time to die. Nora had gotten the better end of the bargain. Finally, as Jonas sat convulsing in an expanding pool of his own blood, the man turned his attention to me. He walked up with a bloody knife in his hand. hand and crouched in front of me, looking into my eyes. After a long moment, he said,

thank you, Dean. You have been most helpful. I appreciate you telling me she had this knife. I nodded. Sure. He smiled. When the police get here, tell them it was the Jimenez Cartel, yes? Tell them, this is what happens when you steal from the Jimenez Cartel. I'm sure there are men on the police force that need to hear these words. I, I will, I managed. He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. Then the three men left. By the time the police showed up, both Nora's and Jonas's blood had expanded across the floor to my feet. I threw away those blood-stained shoes when I finally got home. The stitches in my face were uncomfortable, but after seeing those four people murdered in front of me. I felt like a scar on my face was a small price to pay.

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