I jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, stopping only when there was a loud bang against the wall. I peeked out my bedroom door into the hallway.
“No! Let me go!” she shrieked. The sound of a fist hitting flesh was almost deafening and I threw away all sense of caution. My sister’s door was shut. Using all of my body weight, I slammed into the door. It didn’t budge.
I don’t know why I had expected it to. I was only fifteen at the time and I stood no chance against it.
But instinct made me brave.
I gripped at the doorknob, practically kicking myself when I found it unlocked.
My sister’s panicked face jerked toward me. A hooded man in black was standing over her. Her face was streaked with tears.
He was hurting her.
I rushed at the man from behind, leaping and throwing my arms around his throat. I squeezed my forearm as hard as I could against his windpipe. Caught by surprise, the man staggered backwards, grabbing at my arm and trying to loosen my grip. For a few seconds, I felt like I was actually getting somewhere before he took several steps backwards and pitched his entire upper body forward. One moment I was secure on his shoulders, the next I was airborne.
I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. I gasped, trying my best to pull in a breath, but my lungs didn’t work. I wheezed and the man swung his leg back and kicked me in the ribs.
He didn’t do it just once. He did it at least four times.
My heart was pounding so loud that I didn’t hear my ribs crack from the force of it. It felt like forever, but I was eventually able to pull in a deep revitalizing breath. I pushed myself up and was only just able to avoid another kick. I leapt up to my feet, using a reserve of strength that I didn’t know I had.
My body ached, but I was too far gone to feel anything. My fingers and toes were tingling with adrenaline and the need to protect my sister only intensified that.
I threw my first punch. The blow knocked the man in the side of the head, causing his hood to slip a bit back so I could finally see his face.
I wouldn’t forget that moment for the rest of my life.
His thick bushy eyebrows hooded his black eyes. His cheeks were sunken in, and his chin was covered in an unkempt goatee that needed to be trimmed. There was a tear tattooed under his left eye, along with a word or two in script that I couldn’t quite make out.
I wouldn’t find out till later that it said ‘Sinaloa’ and that it was a part of his initiation into the Sinaloa Cartel.
He tried to punch me and I threw up my arms in a defensive maneuver. His fist glanced off my forearms and he scowled with disgust. He redoubled his efforts, pushing me backwards until my back brushed against the wall.
He swung wide and I lifted my arms up, thinking I’d block him with my forearms again. It was a trick. His other fist slammed into my stomach, forcing the air from my lungs in a painful whoosh. With the swiftness of a man that had fought and won many fights before, he suddenly cracked his fist into the side of my skull.
My eyes rolled back in my head and my world went black.
The only thing I remember after that was my sister’s screams.
When I finally came to, my sister was gone. They didn’t find her body until a few days later.
For years, her murder went unsolved. The cops stopped looking for her killer, but I never did. It took me ten years, but I found him. He’d risen in rank within his branch of the cartel and had been in and out of prison for various small time drug charges.
At that time, I’d already made my first billion dollars, both in real estate and several fortunate stock market investments. I poured a lot of it into finding out every detail of his life, what he did for fun, who he associated with, where and when he left his house, the works.
He liked to jog around his neighborhood at night. His schedule was predictable for the most part, his run happening around the same time every night. Sometimes he ran with a partner, but most of the time he did it on his own.
I waited for one of those nights.
I rented an apartment along his route and camped out, waiting for darkness to fall and for the usual sound of his feet hitting the pavement to echo through the alley.
Ten years of waiting had passed before that moment.
When I pulled that trigger, I let all my rage go. It wasn’t an extravagant or particularly gruesome death. It was simple and clean; a shot straight between the eyes ended him so quickly that he probably hadn’t even realized what was happening until it was too late.
I still had that rifle. I kept it up on the wall in my armory as an ornament, testament to family lost and justice gained.
I squeezed my arm around Kasia and kissed her temple. She curled into my lap as much as her seatbelt would allow.