The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 29

Chapter 29 - Dead

Every second that fucking passes is pure torture as I listen to the beeps of the machines that are keeping Amber alive. When Amber and I were finally in a good place, Madam comes out of the shadows to once again throw my fucking life in a downward spiral into a fucking pit of chaos and despair. As I watch the squiggly line on the machine that shows Amber fights for her life, I vow that once I'm heal, I'm going back to Curva to choke that demonic bitch with my bare hands. I beyond tired of having my soul ripped out as I watch other's die around me. I honestly wish for once someone will pull the Goddamn trigger and end my life for once. I can't take watching anyone I even fucking care for die because of my sins instead of my tortured soul leaving this wretched place. I accept that I'm truly in Hell because I keep on living instead of being put six feet under the fucking ground.

The fact I'm still breathing means that I have a fucking chance to end all the misery. Also, the guard might have finally given us the fucking clue we needed to start ripping apart Madam's empire. I hope it's not fucking hard for the government to follow a sudden $100,000 deposit into a man's bank account that was barely grossing forty grand a year. I'm not sure if it was intentional, or Madam is getting sloppy. Either way, as I've been watching Amber lay in a bed every day in a coma for the past fucking month, it's a lead worth following. If we can follow the money, we can start chipping away at the mystique of Madam, and finally end the madness.

As I sit in the chair next to Amber's bed, I keep thinking about her comment about Karma's punching bag before that miserable bastard shot us both. The casts are finally off from the accident, but I'm still healing from the gun shots. I don't know when I pissed off the bitch Karma, but I'm getting real fucking tired of her shit. It already has Damian banning me from leaving the compound as it is. So, until I'm medically cleared, I'm stuck in this swamp wondering if another rat is going to turn up. The next asshole that points a gun at me better finish me off because I'll try my damnest to rip their fucking throat out.

The door to Amber's room opens as Damian rushes in.

"Quick. Who makes your phone?" he asks.

I pull it out of my pants and reply as I glance at the logo, “Denpa-Hoshi. Why?"

"Anything of value on there?"

"Not really. What's up?"

He walks over, and rips the phone out of my hand. I watch he throws it on the ground, and stomps on it with his heavy boots a few times.

"What the fuck, man?" I shout as he smashes it one last time.

"We followed the money, and it lead to an account that belongs to Denpa-Hoshi," Damian explains. "Until further notice, we're all switching away from all their technology."

"It's just a fucking cellphone," I retort.

"A cellphone that can spy on you without notice," he says.

"Isn't that all cellphones for your agency?" I retort.

"The difference is Denpa-Hoshi can turn on a built-in transmitter at any time they want versus our agency that has to go through a lot of legal red tape to get a warrant to buy a phone, then we have to place the bug on the target cellphone," he explains. "What they can do in minutes can take months for us."

"In other words, our cellphones might have been the biggest leak we've been facing."

"From initial thoughts of the engineers, yes. So, until then, we're only using Schallwelle phones since they don't use anything Denpa-Hoshi makes in their devices unlike the majority of cellphones out there."

"So, besides learning that our phones betrayed us, any other news?"

"We found a possible address for Spreadsheets, and no, your ass is staying here."

I point at Amber and reply, "I can't stay here and let the bitch get away with what she's done."

"Until you're fully healed, both mentally and physically, you're as useful as non-alcohol whiskey to an Irishman," he snaps back while pointing towards Amber.  "Your ass is staying here until I know that without doubt your mind won't be preoccupied."

"I can handle myself."

"Bullshit. Your mind is like a thousand-piece puzzle giving to a toddler. Until I say so, your ass is staying here because you fucking damn well know that there's one thing on your mind, and that is going to get you killed out there."

I'm about to say something, but deep down inside, he's right. My anger will get someone else killed, and right now, my soul is weighed down with some much grief and burden as my ears focus on the beeps. I'll be an emotional wreck until Amber comes out of her coma. I need to focus on repairing my mind and body as the only person I truly love fights for their life. My lone wolf mentality may have worked within the cartel, but that's not what Damian needs right now. In other words, I'm a broken man with no purpose in life.

"Look, when the time is right, you bet your ass is going back out there, but right now, I need you to stay here, and heal. Also, she needs you to heal as well," he says as he hands me a new phone. "My number is programmed. Text me if there's any changes."

With that, he leaves the room, and I slump back into the chair. With each passing beep, all I can think is I would probably be less fucked up if she did die instead of dealing with the torture of uncertainty. I've been a taker of souls in the past, but I rather take my soul before taking hers. Realizing I have no purpose right now, I decided to do the one thing that eases my troubled mind. I spend the next few hours chugging a bottle of bourbon to numb the pain while chasing after the one dream that brings me peace: the dreams about our daughter Meredith. The final thought that crosses my mind as I pass out is that I pray that she pulls out of this soon before I'm the one in the end that loses the battle of life because I’m already dead inside.