Title: Game, Set, Murder
Carlos Vega found himself in a hell of a lot of pain. A thunderstorm battered his brain, complete with flashing streaks of light. He tried to open his eyes, but just moving his eyelids intensified the pain.
Memories began to flash in. A gun shoved in his face. A man ordered him to back off. Who was he? I knew him! Why can’t I see him now? Blinding anger when the man threatened Theresa and the girls. Fear of death in the man’s eyes as Carlos’ hands squeezed his neck. Sudden, searing pain in the back of his head. Then darkness.
"So, you’re awake, pretty boy."
Carlos felt a hard object pressed into his limp hand and knew immediately what it was. He tried to grasp it, but his hand wouldn’t obey. What’s wrong with me? I can’t move!
The man’s hand curled around his own and he felt the muzzle against the side of his head. God, no. Don’t do this! His labored breathing only made the pain worse. He growled with the frustration.
"How’s it feel now? You’re not the big man anymore, are you?"
In anger, Carlos shoved his weight toward the man, but recoiled as unbearable pain shot through his head. The metal click sounded just inches from his ear. This is it. I’m going to die.
"I…will…see you…in hell," Carlos managed to snarl through the agony.
Three little girls giggled and his last words slipped out in a whisper. "Theresa, forgive me."