Six months had passed since Joey had returned home to his family. He hardly uttered a word to his mother and his brother and sister earned nothing but his contempt. How he hated them, in some ways even more than his mother. They played, happy and content in their lives, their mother never far from their side, never far from offering them comfort. Each time this happened before Joey's eyes he was bitterly reminded how little of that he had had. How his mother had left him for dead in the hands of men that beat and hurt him, starved and taunted him… he would never forgive his siblings for having such an easy life.
Maria avoided talking to him about his past; he sensed that she knew he had been made to do awful things… she knew her young son had killed. But still she never asked him, Joey had felt certain she would… that she would want to know everything, he did not know if he would have told her but her attitude towards him, almost ignoring what he had been through made the anger burn brighter and harsher. She carried on as if he had not spent so many years away from home, almost pretending that her own husband had not sold him for money to buy whiskey.
Perhaps his mother thought if she did not mention such hard subjects they could go back to how they once were. Joey caught the glint of guilt in her eyes every now and again, guilt at leaving him, of knowing she had chosen her other children's welfare over him. If Joey had been in a reasonable mindset maybe he would have seen what others could, Maria hadn't had a choice, no one in the village was willing to take on a blind child and a half wit while she trekked far across the land to see her captured eldest… but Joey didn't have any reason when it came to Maria and so he only saw this woman as a betrayer.
There was only one time that Maria even alluded to anything had befallen her son. They had been sitting by the fire one cold evening; both his brother and sister were asleep. Joey had glanced up as his mother had spoken his name softly. She leant across from her chair and hesitantly put her hand over his.
"God forgives you," she said with an understanding, caring look upon her face, "and so do I, forget your past." She tried to smile. "Things will be better Joey, we can be a family…"
Joey had violently shrugged off her touch and she had settled back down into her chair as if nothing had happened between them. Joey glared at her, his eyes narrowing in anger, how dare she tell him he was forgiven, did she think such things could just be forgotten? He studied her with disgust as she darned clothing for her two beloved children that lay in peaceful slumber. So, she thought things were easily forgiven… he would soon make her change her mind.
---
Maria married again in Joey's sixteenth year. By this point Joey was known as a bad apple in the village, most stayed out of his way and it was common knowledge that he had killed three men in the last year, ambushing them out in the plains and taking their possessions. Of course no one could prove this to be true, Joey was very careful with the trinkets and booty he stole, he had a hidden cave where he kept everything apart from money and what he wanted for himself, such as guns or clothing. The cave was slowly filling up with his treasure, his trophies. He always smiled his smug smile when he went to look at all the pretty things, how little the townsfolk actually knew amused him immensely - he had killed many more men than three over the last two years. He had several rifles along with other booty: watches, rings, guns, wallets, tie pins, fancy clothing, combs, brushes and ivory trinkets. He liked to go up into his secret cave and admire the depth of a stone in a ring or the smoothness of a new firearm, it gave him a strange pleasure and in a way made him happy, each little thing reminded him that he had the power over the men he had taken these things from.
His new stepfather was a man from a neighboring town. He was well liked by all and his mother seemed very happy despite the fact that he was at least fifteen years younger than herself, only a few years older than Joey. His name was Benito and he lavished attention upon Maria's younger children, Joey knew if he would have allowed it, the man would have been kind to him too, but Joey could not stand him. In the two years that he had been home Maria had shown no interest in men, she had boarders now and again, men who were passing through and even though Maria rebuked their amorous advances they still did not take heed. Joey couldn't help but think that his mother must somehow be encouraging them and via this way of thinking he began to think of her as no better than a whore, who knew what she would do for money to keep food in her precious damaged children's mouths. Joey hated all the men who came, most were unkind not only to Maria but to her children too, Joey often caught the worst of the verbal abuse as he would always stand his ground. After his mother had kicked them out as she did so many times, if Joey had a full disliking for them he would follow their tracks out of town and make sure they never came back or ventured any further ever again.
Now, his mother was married again and to a good man. Joey knew he should have been satisfied with this, but he could not be, he hated Benito just as much as he had hated any of the others, sometimes he thought it may even have been more as Benito actually tried with him, attempted to become friends. Joey always rebuffed him with harsh, cold words but still it did not deter him. Joey also detested Benito's laziness, he would lay in bed all day grasping cheekily at Maria as she passed by, patting her behind and blowing kisses while Joey's mother cooked, cleaned and darned his clothing. Joey felt repulsed when Benito reached out and took Maria's hand, pulling her down to him upon the bed.
The thirst to be rid of this man who was now considered his father, who with that title held a power over him whether he used it or not, grew in Joey, the flame consuming him until he thought he could take no more. But he did not snap, not until a warm afternoon in the height of summer when he had come in the back door of the small adobe house after spending his morning at the cantina listening to the talk of drunkards. As he entered the cool house his ears had pricked at the sound of wanton panting. The curtain had not been pulled fully across the bedroom doorway and from where Joey stood he could see his mother and Benito in bed together. He was ravishing her in the way a dog in the street mounts a bitch. They had not noticed him standing there and he had slipped silently back outside.
From that moment on Joey wanted to kill him, but no rifle shot would do, not this time. The thirst to see the man suffer in the same way as Chatto and Kutli grew and blossomed into a plan. He awaited his moment and when Benito was finally urged by Maria to ride on to the next town to visit a dentist due to the pain of a bad toothache. Joey followed quietly on horseback, choosing his favorite ambush point upon a sandy hill. He waited for the older man to come the longer way as people always did coming out of the village.
Benito came into view just at the time Joey expected, his blue eyes took on the hungry look of longing for that moment which he knew would soon be his. He raised his rifle and took silent, calculated aim, watching the man for a small amount of time as he continued upon his way, oblivious that his life was just minutes away from being put out forever. The thrill swept through Joey's skin, his arms covered in gooseflesh, he shivered with pleasure as his finger tightened upon the trigger and gently squeezed. Benito didn't even have time to register what was happening, his horse buckled from under him and he rolled off its back with a dull thud. Joey wasted no more time and rode out at a quick trot. Benito looked up as he saw the young boy riding towards him and his face twisted in cruel realization of what was happening. He turned and fled but again Joey had expected this, planned for it…hoped for it. He brought out his lasso and easily roped the man's torso causing Benito to again fall to the ground, winded momentarily. Using the strength of his horse and his own will to see this through Joey hoisted Benito up to a large boulder, leaving the older man defenseless and exposed.
He had watched as the man before him begged, pleaded and eventually shouted abuse and spat at him. Benito called him a 'cold hearted bastard' many times once he saw that Joey had no intention of letting him go, that his life would be over this day. Joey took no heed in the man's talk, he fetched the machete he had stored in one of his packs and walked towards Benito. The man had begun to scream then, loud and shrill as Joey brought the weapon up and then swished it down with all the force he could muster. Slicing and hacking until Benito had no hands and then he also took his feet. Joey had not counted on just how much blood there would be, it splattered all over his nice clean clothing and matted into his hair. This fact had annoyed him, he didn't want this man's blood all over him.
Still it was done now. He watched Benito's face as his eyes rolled in pain and shock over what had just befallen him. Joey leaned in close.
"Now you have no hands to touch my mother." He said in a chilling voice.
Joey had cut the ropes that still held Benito to the boulder, allowing his mutilated body to fall onto the dusty ground. He was still breathing as the blood continued to gush out of his wounds. Joey kicked a good amount of dirt towards him, watching for a moment with an expression akin to dark, stoic glee as Benito tried to move his body. Joey let a low, soft chuckle escape his lips… he could not think of a more fitting end.
---
Joey had watched his mother's grief in smug satisfaction. After Benito's body had been found Joey even played the good son role for a day. He told his mother he would go and try to find out what happened to Benito and instead he had rode out to his secret cave and reveled in it once again.
Joey had not thought that Benito's death would hit his mother and his siblings so hard and yet they moped for weeks, the news had actually made Maria cry, something Joey did not think he had seen fully before. As he sat in silence watching the glistening tears slide down her cheeks he felt warmed and contented, the knowledge that it had been his own two hands that had caused this pain was a welcome feeling indeed, and one he felt his mother deserved full heartedly.
For a small time Joey was able to live off this emotion, the anger seemed quelled to a dim, dull thud that threatened within his head. He did not change his ways, he still went out 'hunting' whenever the mood took him and his abrasive actions towards his family stayed as they had always been. But with the rage lessened even for such a small amount of time he turned his attentions elsewhere. After all he was a young man and pretty faces began to make themselves known to him. He noticed many of the young girls batting their long dark lashes as he passed by, noticed their coy beckoning smiles. But he knew too well that if he interfered with any of them he would be expected to marry them and though he could deal easily with an enraged father the prospect of doing so and then being forced to leave the village did not appeal to him.
To quell the urges he had he turned to what many young men chose, the use of whore houses. He had plenty of money and was handsome, youthful and unusual in his looks so he was assured his pick of the ladies at any establishment. He had felt no nervous flutters or expectations on his first visit, choosing a place not so far from his home town. The girl was older than he by perhaps three or four years, Mexican and fair of face her name was Katia and she was quiet just as he wanted. She hardly spoke a word other than to ask his name and had then lain down clothed in only a robe upon the bed waiting for him to do what he wished. The liaison had not lasted too long but it had dulled the lust he felt and it was not long before Katia was the one and only girl he wanted and he frequented her when he needed. It was never a warm affair, he got what he wanted and she got what she desired from him, it was an easy and fair exchange. He was well liked by Katia as he held no fantasies of romance, no passionate longings to sweet talk any of them, he came for business and he got what he wished with little or no conversation.
---
Joey was seventeen when his mother remarried again. The man, Roberto Sanchez was not a good man, he treated Maria badly after their first few months of marriage, preferring to stay out all day and night drinking than at home beside her. Joey did not feel threatened by Roberto he knew all too well that he would soon leave, his displeasure over Maria now that he knew she was not just a pretty face would soon see that he was no longer seen around here. Joey was amused to find he was a little disappointed he would not get to kill this man, but he felt to do so would be pointless after all they shared a strange bond in that they both disliked his mother's company. A year had not passed before Joey was proven to be right. Without a word Roberto packed his belongings as well as a few of Maria's and left, leaving her and her two young children to lament their loss once again. After this event Joey was convinced his mother was no better than a whore, worse perhaps. She had the gall to claim to be a good, honest women yet in Joey's eyes four marriages was far too many for any good woman, at least most whores were honest about what they did.
On his eighteenth birthday Joey sat in his cave having escaped from town and the cloying presence of his mother who now only had disapproving looks to give him. She would defend him with a fierce passion to anyone in the village but to Joey himself her eyes held only disappointment. The expression made his blood boil and he wished for nothing more than to wrap his slim, small hands around her throat and squeeze until she could not look at him with anything but glassy death, but these thoughts were fleeting and he had more important things to do. His cave was now a place of wonders, treasures were piled high and he knew that he could easily live comfortably off the money he could acquire for them, but he did not wish to part with them; the knowledge they were his was more than enough riches to his mind.
He had taken to going further afield in the last few months, venturing over the border where people were richer, he had even taken a few stage coaches by concealing himself high above the trail and shooting the coachmen. They were carrying reels of cloth, bottles of whiskey and other assortments, all of it ended up in his cave as well as a fine pocket watch from one of the men he had shot. But still he longed for something more, it never seemed enough, the thrill of shooting lone men had faded, he wanted more…
It was six months after his nineteenth summer that he had heard of the trains, murmurs of the great cargo they held were gossiped all over the village. Joey had his new plan and he took to it with a vengeance. The feeling of killing seven men all in one go was one that could not be beaten. On his vantage point well hidden from sight, Joey had picked each man off one by one, the thrill seeming to make his mind tingle with a delicious delight and when they were all dead he had made his way down, taking what he liked and leaving what he did not. He took five more trains in the next few months before he had become tired of being out in the open, he disliked being unclean and living on the ground only washing himself at low quality boarding houses. He finally wished to return back to his home. He took one last train; one that he knew full well had no valuables aboard, only livestock, sheep. He had killed the men with ease, picking each one off before they even had a chance to comprehend what was happening about them. He had walked down to the train side after the deed was done, his gaze racking over the dead bodies, taking trinkets from them that he deemed worthy for his collection and with a smirk he had left the livestock still locked in their carriage pen, knowing that they would soon die of thirst in the blazing sunlight.
---
Joey's words tapered out into the cold, dark silence. Ella's eyes were wide; she had never felt more awake than she did in this moment. She had propped herself up onto her elbow at some point during Joey's long and slurred tale, his words had been stunted, sometimes talking to himself and at other times talking as if to an old friend that he had only just rediscovered. She became aware that her arm now ached, she had become so engrossed as Joey spoke that she had not noticed the pain until now, she glanced over at him, his eyes were closed but she knew he was not asleep, not yet.
She let her body rest back on the bed giving her protesting muscles the relief they so craved, she watched Joey's back for a moment, struggling for any words to speak and not knowing if she should even say anything if she found them. Her ears pricked at the sound of the door being opened by the returning women, she heard muffled voices but they soon settled down, they were probably a little drunk and would soon be sleeping peacefully.
As the silence fell again back over them Ella became aware of Joey's soft, slow breaths. She listened to them for a moment trying to gain any understanding. He had done so many unforgivable deeds in his short life, so many awful things that to even hear of them made Ella feel sick to the pit of her stomach and yet… he had not always been this way, he had once been a happy child just like all children are before grief, sickness or misfortune finds them. Joey's life had been hard and cruel, she did not know how she or anyone else would have reacted had they been under such pressure and torment… She laid a hand tenderly upon his shoulder, feeling her emotions torn in two separate ways, one was telling her that he was a cold blooded killer and had no goodness left in him, that she should run while she still had the chance… but the other part of her pitied his harsh life, knew that no child should have to feel the way he had on those cold and lonely nights, abandoned, mistreated and in despair… and the small ball of hope renewed itself in her mind. He had confessed so much, had seemed lost and afraid on this night, no one without a goodness to their heart could feel this way, she felt sure of it…
Ella pushed herself closer to him and buried her face into the back of his neck, breathing in his scent.
"It's okay" she managed to whisper, and for a moment she thought she felt his hand clutch hers in a small gesture of acknowledgement.