01-14-2021, 09:44 PM
They were taking a long time to answer.
"Mexicans?" Delia asked.
"Colombians." Roman replied.
She stares at him and sighs. Then the door swings open. The man's face showed discontent. They walk in
and the door closes behind them.
The tension was unbelievable. Even Roman could feel it, giving Delia a glance of uncertainty. The man who
let them in returned to his seat while another man sat in a chair across the room. Roman tossed the black bag
onto the neatly-made bed. Delia's eyes were darting back and forth. She could feel the sweat beading already.
"Where's your brother?" Roman asked the unarmed seated man.
"Takin' a piss." he answered.
The bathroom door opens and the third and final man enters the room. He's holding a shotgun.
"Get 'em off." he barked, raising the twelve-gauge.
The unarmed man approached them, standing only inches away.
"What's this?" Roman asked in surprize.
The armed brother moves slightly closer now.
"Down to your fucking underwear!" he yelled aiming that shotgun right at Roman.
Delia looked over at him as the room suddenly became electrified.
The unarmed brother grabs Delia and pulls her aside, motioning for her to undress.
"Check the bag, it's all there!" he shouts.
The aggressor now pushes the barrel of that scattergun into his stomach.
"I found out some very important information last night." he said.
Delia strips down to her bra and panties. She's visibly shaking, watching this whole thing go terribly wrong.
"And what did you find?" the still-dressed man asked.
The angry Colombian racks his shotgun and puts it back up to Roman's mid-section.
"That you're a dirty fucking fed."
Delia's heart is now pounding in her chest. This truly was the end.
"You're out of your fucking mind!" Roman screamed as the blast sent him backwards onto the bed.
He squirmed for a few seconds before giving up the ghost. So quick how Life becomes Death.
Delia screams in terror as the man holding her ties her arms behind her back. The doorman still seated,
watching it all like a movie. He hasn't moved or said a word the entire time.
The angry armed man nods and his brother grabs Delia's arm and marches her into the bathroom. He forces
her onto her knees and pushes her head down into the urine-filled toilet. She fights him but soon finds
her face submerged. Drowning in piss-water wasn't high on her list of ways to die.
"Drink up you fucking fed whore!" he said, setting the shotgun down in the corner.
Delia's ears now fill with the disgusting liquid as she continues trying to hold her breath. He brings her up
for air and she can feel hot fluid hitting her back. The man releases her and falls onto the floor. She raises
herself and turns to see the doorman standing with a gun to the Colombian's head. He's speaking to her
but her hearing is obstructed. She now knows it's the first man's blood soaking her back.
"Free her hands!" he yells at the Colombian.
The man hurriedly cuts the zip-tie. Delia steadies herself, one hand on the bathtub and one on the toilet. It all
hits at once and she quickly leans over the bowl to puke. She earned it.
"Whatever you're gonna do to him, do it fast!" the doorman said.
Delia jumps to her feet, and grabs the shotgun. They all exit the tiny bathroom.
"Sit next to him." Delia demands.
The Colombian stands, eyes wide, frozen. Delia racks the twelve-gauge.
"Sit the fuck down!" she screams.
He flops backwards onto the bed, into a pool of Roman's blood. The doorman calmly returns to his seat.
She stands over him, seething in rage, still trying to catch her breath. It went about as bad as it could have.
"Tu sucia puta blanca!" he yelled.
Delia fired straight into the man's crotch. He let out sounds she'd never heard before. She threw the now empty
shotgun onto the floor. The room looked like a movie set. Nothing felt real. She scrambled to gather her clothes
and got dressed. Wary of the man who stepped in to save her life.
"Who the fuck are you?" she questioned.
"Doesn't matter." he said rising from his chair.
He walked over to a navy blue backpack nestled between the bed and nightstand. He pulled out a banded
stack of hundred's and tossed them at Delia.
"Leave town, now! Or you'll be dead before dark." he said matter-of-factly.
Delia's mind couldn't keep up with the all-out fuckery of this situation. She stuffed the money into her back
pocket, grabbed her gun from the nightstand and moved towards the door.
"Thank you." she said as tears wet her cheeks.
"Get the fuck outta here." the man said as he also readied himself to leave.
She ran to the car, fished the keys out from under the front seat and burned out of that parking lot.
There was a storm battering inside of her...
"Mexicans?" Delia asked.
"Colombians." Roman replied.
She stares at him and sighs. Then the door swings open. The man's face showed discontent. They walk in
and the door closes behind them.
The tension was unbelievable. Even Roman could feel it, giving Delia a glance of uncertainty. The man who
let them in returned to his seat while another man sat in a chair across the room. Roman tossed the black bag
onto the neatly-made bed. Delia's eyes were darting back and forth. She could feel the sweat beading already.
"Where's your brother?" Roman asked the unarmed seated man.
"Takin' a piss." he answered.
The bathroom door opens and the third and final man enters the room. He's holding a shotgun.
"Get 'em off." he barked, raising the twelve-gauge.
The unarmed man approached them, standing only inches away.
"What's this?" Roman asked in surprize.
The armed brother moves slightly closer now.
"Down to your fucking underwear!" he yelled aiming that shotgun right at Roman.
Delia looked over at him as the room suddenly became electrified.
The unarmed brother grabs Delia and pulls her aside, motioning for her to undress.
"Check the bag, it's all there!" he shouts.
The aggressor now pushes the barrel of that scattergun into his stomach.
"I found out some very important information last night." he said.
Delia strips down to her bra and panties. She's visibly shaking, watching this whole thing go terribly wrong.
"And what did you find?" the still-dressed man asked.
The angry Colombian racks his shotgun and puts it back up to Roman's mid-section.
"That you're a dirty fucking fed."
Delia's heart is now pounding in her chest. This truly was the end.
"You're out of your fucking mind!" Roman screamed as the blast sent him backwards onto the bed.
He squirmed for a few seconds before giving up the ghost. So quick how Life becomes Death.
Delia screams in terror as the man holding her ties her arms behind her back. The doorman still seated,
watching it all like a movie. He hasn't moved or said a word the entire time.
The angry armed man nods and his brother grabs Delia's arm and marches her into the bathroom. He forces
her onto her knees and pushes her head down into the urine-filled toilet. She fights him but soon finds
her face submerged. Drowning in piss-water wasn't high on her list of ways to die.
"Drink up you fucking fed whore!" he said, setting the shotgun down in the corner.
Delia's ears now fill with the disgusting liquid as she continues trying to hold her breath. He brings her up
for air and she can feel hot fluid hitting her back. The man releases her and falls onto the floor. She raises
herself and turns to see the doorman standing with a gun to the Colombian's head. He's speaking to her
but her hearing is obstructed. She now knows it's the first man's blood soaking her back.
"Free her hands!" he yells at the Colombian.
The man hurriedly cuts the zip-tie. Delia steadies herself, one hand on the bathtub and one on the toilet. It all
hits at once and she quickly leans over the bowl to puke. She earned it.
"Whatever you're gonna do to him, do it fast!" the doorman said.
Delia jumps to her feet, and grabs the shotgun. They all exit the tiny bathroom.
"Sit next to him." Delia demands.
The Colombian stands, eyes wide, frozen. Delia racks the twelve-gauge.
"Sit the fuck down!" she screams.
He flops backwards onto the bed, into a pool of Roman's blood. The doorman calmly returns to his seat.
She stands over him, seething in rage, still trying to catch her breath. It went about as bad as it could have.
"Tu sucia puta blanca!" he yelled.
Delia fired straight into the man's crotch. He let out sounds she'd never heard before. She threw the now empty
shotgun onto the floor. The room looked like a movie set. Nothing felt real. She scrambled to gather her clothes
and got dressed. Wary of the man who stepped in to save her life.
"Who the fuck are you?" she questioned.
"Doesn't matter." he said rising from his chair.
He walked over to a navy blue backpack nestled between the bed and nightstand. He pulled out a banded
stack of hundred's and tossed them at Delia.
"Leave town, now! Or you'll be dead before dark." he said matter-of-factly.
Delia's mind couldn't keep up with the all-out fuckery of this situation. She stuffed the money into her back
pocket, grabbed her gun from the nightstand and moved towards the door.
"Thank you." she said as tears wet her cheeks.
"Get the fuck outta here." the man said as he also readied himself to leave.
She ran to the car, fished the keys out from under the front seat and burned out of that parking lot.
There was a storm battering inside of her...
