Free For the Strength of You by Victor L. Martin

to his face. Anshon wrapped his leg around one of Tom-Tom’s and tripped him up. When he was on the floor gasping for air, Anshon pointed the 9 mm to his head.
    Tom-Tom rolled to his back as Wallo kicked him in the ribs. Blood ran freely from Tom-Tom’s busted lip. As Teck went to pick up Tom-Tom and throw him across the room, he peeked four bottles of lighter fluid and matches.
    â€œBingo!” Teck said, pointing to the evidence.
    â€œMan, I ain’t—” Tom-Tom tried to speak but was cut off by Wallo’s left foot to the side of his head.
    â€œShut up, fuckin’ snitch-ass lame!” Wallo yelled.
    â€œStrip!” Anshon said, kicking Tom-Tom in the leg. “Get naked, punk!”
    â€œFuck you!” Tom-Tom shot back. “You ain’t no killer!”
    Anshon smiled then nodded at Teck, who started to put some duct tape around Tom-Tom’s wrists and ankles.
    Tom-Tom started to struggle but ceased when Wallo pulled out a box cutter and put the blade to his throat. Once his ankles were tightly taped and the same for his hands behind his back, Wallo then used the box cutter to cut his clothes off.
    â€œDon’t cut the lame!” Teck said as Wallo nicked Tom-Tom for the third time.
    Tom-Tom was scared now. He was butt-ass naked and couldn’t do shit.
    â€œHold the fuck still!” Anshon said to Tom-Tom as Teck pulled out a Magic Marker and wrote DEAD NIGGA on Tom-Tom’s forehead.
    He started to cry and mumble. Wallo planted a boot in his stomach then kicked him in the head.
    â€œNow you gonna know what Cain felt like. Pick his bitch ass up!”
    Tom-Tom pleaded with Anshon. “Yo, man, chill. I’ll leave town. I’ll do whatever, man. . . . Yo, Anshon!” he shouted.
    Anshon ignored him.
    â€œMan, please!” Tom-Tom shouted, falling to his knees. Snot ran from his nose as he started to crumble. “Please, man. I didn’t mean to do it.” He sobbed.
    â€œLook, I raised you, Anshon. I taught Tammy the game. She stole my shit. Teck, Wallo, tell ’im. Tell ’im.”
    â€œShut the fuck up!” Wallo shouted.
    Teck answered by kicking him in the mouth.
    â€œI got something for your ass!” Anshon said, running back to his car. He remembered that Monica had left her overnight bag in his car.
    He went in the bag and pulled out a big electric curling iron. When Anshon returned back to the house, Tom-Tom snickered. He thought Anshon was going to come back with a gun and kill him, but he never expected a curling iron.
    Anshon walked in and picked up the lighter fluid, then he walked over to Tom-Tom, who Wallo now had in a chokehold. He took the lighter fluid, poured the whole bottle on top of the curler, and shoved it up Tom-Tom’s ass.
    Tom-Tom started to scream as Anshon started pushing the curler further into his asshole. Teck grabbed an extension cord from the floor, swung it in front of Tom-Tom’s face like a pocketwatch, and threw it to Wallo, who plugged the iron into the socket. Tom-Tom shitted on himself.
    The curling iron was making snap, crackle, and pop noises up Tom-Tom’s ass. He dropped his head, slob sliding out the side of his mouth, and he fainted—never to wake up again.
    â€œDie slow, ma’fucker!” Anshon said as he, Teck, and Wallo headed out the door. “And that’s on the strength of my sister!”
    * * *
    â€œBoy, what happened to you?” Fe-Fe said, looking at Teck’s ripped and blood-splattered jacket. Too afraid to know what had really happened, she retracted her question. “Ain’t no need in tellin’ me.”
    â€œNo matter what happens,” Teck said to Fe-Fe, flopping down on the bed next to her, “always know that I really care for you.”
    â€œBoy,” Fe-Fe said, feeling the lump rising in her throat, “be quiet.”
    â€œHey, Fe,” Teck said after a few minutes of silence. “I got something for