Sinbad’s sordid little tale continued after the terrifying reality of his life was revealed.
“For about nine years after that, I was their own special little doggy.”
His voice was becoming thicker with pained emotion the more he spoke. “They hardly let me out of my cage unless it was for fighting or training. I didn’t want to hurt or kill those dogs, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Marc and Harwood could only sit quietly, listening and nodding. Sinbad went on:
“They always treated me like the stray dog they saw me as. Hell, I think they treated any other dogs they had better than they treated me. I mean, it isn’t like anyone was gonna care about the child of a dead junkie whore.”
Sinbad paused, covering his eyes with his free hand. “Around the time I was seventeen or eighteen, there was a rival gang trying to cause trouble in Bridgeport. I guess they caught wind of Elvira’s unorthodox use of a human in dog fights.
“That, or they got upset over something else. Whatever the reason is, one night, they ended up confronting each other in the old warehouse.”
Here Sinbad closed his eyes, as though he were trying to correctly recall the night things changed. “I guess one of the rival gang members took pity on me.”
“Define pity,” Harwood said, hoping to sate his growing curiosity.
“He opened the door to the kennel I was sitting in. Maybe he just wanted to use me for his own gang’s fights, I don’t know. I do remember him being the first one to die when shit hit the fan. I guess that set me off.”
Sinbad’s thick eyebrows furrowed. “Come to think of it, I was probably the one to kill him. He slapped me on the back, and after that, I can’t remember exactly.”
Despite the blurred contents of Sinbad’s past, he remembered a few key details. “I do know there was a lot of screaming, and me biting into people’s necks. I just couldn’t control it.
“When I finally remembered what happened, Elvira was gone and everybody else was dead. I knew that was my fault, and I also knew I’d probably end up in a shitload with the authorities if I stayed there.”
“So what’d you do?” Marc asked now. “How’d you go about with the covering up of dead people?”
Sinbad raised his hands in frustration. “I didn’t cover them up. I burned them.” When he said burned, Sinbad could picture the flames that roared in his mind.
“That’s what I did. I poured gasoline all over everything in that place, lit a match, and ran like hell when it started to spread.
“After that,” he said with a more subdued look in his eyes, “I found myself in Twinbrook, living with some policeman, and about seven years later, here I am.”
When he finished, Sinbad began wringing his fingers, worried about how his father and brother were going to react.
Harwood licked his lips before giving a response. “Well, first off, untold amount of respect for you, given what you lived through.” Marc nodded to agree with this. “And second, what are you going to do now that she’s found you?”
Remembering what Elvira told him, Sinbad trembled. “She said I got 24 hours to think about it. Apparently, she wants me to go back to how it all was. But…”
He shook his head. “No way am I going to throw myself down that hell again. I just need to think of some way to get rid of her for good. Think you guys can help me with that?”
Putting his hand out, Sinbad was relieved when Marc and Harwood placed theirs on top of his.
Marc nodded, and grinned. “What big brothers are for.”
Hearing this, Harwood gave an amused snort. “A father should do anything for his children.”
All three then pushed down, in an unspoken agreement. When they pulled their hands back, Sinbad let them pull him off the table he was sitting on.
“I don’t know if I’m good to drive, since I got shot in the arm,” he said as he remembered the bullet wound. “Think maybe we should hail a cab?”
When they walked out onto the street, Marc smirked and hoped he could lighten the situation a little more.
“I hope Benjamin Bailey isn’t here in this town. I think after all this, the last thing we need is getting stuck in an episode of Cash Cab.”
“Oh, come now,” Harwood spoke up, “We can’t all be that stupid. And what’s wrong with the chance to win some money?”
All three men were laughing as they finally got a taxi, and climbed in.
Stunned over the story that she’d just heard, Annette was on the verge of falling off the crate she was sitting on. For a few more minutes, she quietly mulled over everything Sinbad had said.
“This place is more fucked up than I remember it,” she said to no one in particular as she stepped out of the freezer.
Much to her dismay, there were already police cars stationed outside. She was used to the sight, but this time she was alone.
“Police!” One could be heard shouting through a megaphone. “Drop your weapon, and come out with your hands up!”
Deciding she needed to get the issue over with, Annette rolled her eyes and raised her hands in the air. She then took a few steps forward, and reached the darkening night outside.
She kept her eyes cast down towards her feet, as she was handcuffed and shoved into a police car.