He then brought his bat, full force to the mans knee, crunching the bone beneathhis wrinkled and pale skin. He wore a brown nightgown and must have been inhis late sixties. Either way, what Tom was about to do to him was made all themore brutal.He danced around the man like a child at the may pole, as he sat there wrought with terror. He looked at me, his face a wash with horror, as if hell had just entered his peaceful country life. He let out an extreme cry of pain as Tom,poised and ready, cracked and splintered his other knee.
“Dance away, I dare you!” taunted Tom as he continued to
hop, skip and jumparound the small hallway and into the living room of the house.He danced back into the hall and looked at me, smiling again beneath his mask Iam sure. His joy was palpable, but I could only feel disgust. He dragged the man,screaming and writhing in pain, by the ankles into the living room.
“We’re eating like kings for the next month my friend ol’ chap!” added Tom,
adopting a faux cockney accent.He threw the man onto the sofa and proceeded to smash the clocks, ornamentsand glassware on every surface. The room was dark. The sound of broken glass,though more welcome than broken bones, still sent chills down my spine. Iremember studying Crystal Nacht in school. The night of the broken glass. Thiswas it.
“Where ye’ be keepin’ the valuables then?” said Tom with the same forced
cockney accent.The man, scrambling for words, pointed to a door leading onto another small anddark corridor.
“Office” he said, shaking nervously.
So towards the office the man was dragged, once more by his legs, screaminglouder as Tom shrieked with delight.Then we went to work. The man, tears forming in his eyes, looked at us as weransacked his office. First his desk draws;
often they’re a good source of
expensive effects. Instead of asking for a key to the top, locked, draw, Tomsmashed at the surface of the desk until it clicked open. With each bang of thesmooth, mahogany surface both myself and the man shuddered. I tried to ignoremy surroundings and to concentrate on searching for anything with any value
but I couldn’t shake the unmistakable glare of the man. His eyes pleaded
for meto stop and help him, for me to apologize. Its as if he too saw through our masksand saw who we really were. Under my mask he saw, regret, pain and contempt.