He pushed the shopping cart quickly down the aisle of the local hardware store. Lye, check. Paint thinner, check. Acetone, check. The last few ingredients he needed to make up his next batch. He hurriedly approached the checkout counter and laid the items atop it, much to the suspicion of the cashier. She was average. Mousy brown hair, hazel eyes, small stature.

"Mac, is it?" She asked. She had heard of him. She knew it was him from his black smile.

"Yeah?" He glared up at her. "What of it?"

Just his dead cold glare sent chills down her spine, she knew he was dangerous and thought it better not to ask questions. Everyone in Caineville knew that Mac cooked meth. Everyone looked the other way.

He watched her impatiently as she typed the UPC of the lye into the register, he racing thoughts briefly interrupted by the vibrations of his cell phone.

A text: Trouble cave -D

This made him immediately worried and uneasy, "Can you hurry it up?"

"Sorry," the small cashier mumbled, terribly uncomfortable under his hard gaze, her fingers trembled as she punched in the last UPC.

He didn't waste time bagging his merchandise, he threw it all back into his cart and made his way out the door to his beat up red Ford pickup, instantaneously throwing the lye, thinner, and acetone into the bed, violently shoving the cart so it rolled halfway out into the middle of the desolate parking lot.

As soon as he got into the cab of his truck, he whipped his cell out, dialing quickly.

"The fuck you mean 'trouble'?" he shouted into the phone.

"She...she killed a cop, man. I followed him here from the Luna Mesa. Came in asking all types of questions, her family is still looking for her. I followed him out to the cave, but by the time I got in... man, she fucked him up. He's dead as a doornail. We gotta clean this up before Dad-"

Mac snapped his cell phone shut, "Fuck!" he yelled, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. Just what he needed, another fucking mess to clean up. He started his rust trap of a truck and peeled out of the Denny & Sons Hardware parking lot.

As he drove through the Canyon, his grip so tight on the wheel that his knuckles turned purple then white, he remember how none of this mess would've started if Devon could just mind his own fucking business. Devon was always fucking Mac's life up.

A year earlier...

Mac awoke as the sunlight hit his face through his blindless windows. His bed was nothing more than a filthy mattress on a filthy floor, his room littered with drawings of the vision that haunted him the most-his father's spider tattoo. He sat up, rubbing his face over with his hands. He reached across the bed for his cell phone, sure to find orders from his father on how much meth to cook up next.

He squinted as he opened his clamshell phone, the light of the screen still too bright for his hungover eyes.

Had to give away some product. I found a way 2 make it up 2 u -D

"For fuck's sake, Devon!" Mac gritted his teeth, throwing the phone across the room. Mac ardently rose from the mattress and grabbed his stained, stinking coveralls up off the floor, pulling them over his ever-present white wife beater and his boxers. He walked across the room to pick up his surprisingly still intact cell phone and headed for the door.

As Mac entered the cave, he heard Devon laughing. What the fuck was he up to now?

"Aw, pretty baby, don't be shy!" Mac heard Devon taunt. He also heard the rustling of chains. This can't be good.

Finally making his way into his "kitchen," he saw Devon's backside, he was straddling something-someone-on a rickety old lawn chair.

"The fuck's going on in here?" Mac said, fists clenched and pulse racing.

Devon turned around swiftly, nearly jumping out of his skin, "Oh, hey big brother!"

"What is that? Who is that?" Mac asked, seeing two long legs extend from in-between Devon's.

"Your payback, for the meth."

"What the fuck, Devon!" Mac's voice reverberated off the stone walls.

Devon got up, revealing a girl from underneath him. She was pretty. Long tanned legs, a voluptuous figure, big tits and wide hips, her long dark hair made perfect waves down her chest, perfectly accentuating her olive skin. A denim miniskirt and pink camisole barely covering her trembling body. Her arms were restrained behind her, as well as a chain around her waist holding her tightly to the chaise, and her ankles tied with common rope. Her mouth bound with duct tape, she wriggled helplessly with tears streaming down her face. Mac looked away quickly, feeling his dick harden, trying to remember how his younger brother just created yet another fucking mess.

"I roofied her at a bar outside of town last night, brought her back here, figured you could use a play thing," Devon shrugged casually, pulling a joint from his shirt pocket and lighting it. "Was bored. Waiting on Reggie to regain consciousness...that fucking heroin, sometimes I give her too much-"

"A play thing?!" Mac shouted interrupting Devon. "That's not a play thing, that's a big fucking problem! What the fuck, man! I swear, you were fucking born with two brain cells!" Mac kicked over one of his work tables, sending boxes of Sudafed spilling out onto the cave floor.

Devon's shoulders tensed then relaxed as he straightened out the collar of his blue oxford shirt. Devon, always looking like the perfect little college boy. "Well, I can't let her go. She'll go straight to the cops. Lead them back here. We'd both go down, along with Dad." He took a drag of his joint, and exhaled slowly.

Mac pulled out his tin, dipping his finger in, wiping the powder across his rotted teeth, suddenly feeling calmer and farther away...knowing if it weren't for the meth, he would've killed Devon long ago. And in turn, his father would kill him.

"Alright," Mac said, his broad figure unwinding. He ran his tongue over his teeth, savoring the last little drop. "I guess I should thank you, huh?"

Devon smiled as he clapped a hand to Mac's shoulder, "Wreck her, then you can thank me."

Mac's lips turned upward, revealing his black grin as he walked over to the girl. Standing over her he was tracing every curve of her body with his eyes. It'd been so long since he had some good pussy. The whores in town just weren't doing it for him anymore. He smiled to himself, watching the poor girl struggle with her restraints, her cries muffled under the silver band of tape. He stuck his hand in his pocket to readjust his hard-on.

Leaning down to her, he cupped her chin harshly with his rough hand, "You and me are gonna have ourselves some fun."