Making the Cut by SD Hildreth

raised her hand to her stomach, “Let’s go eat pizza.”
    “Sounds good. It’s better than sitting here.”
    “I’m going to wear this and see if anyone notices,” Sloan said as she reached down to pick up her flats.
    I rolled my eyes at the thought of her boobs being bigger than normal. As I glanced in the mirror at my B-cup, I silently wondered if my lack of boobs was one of the reasons I wasn’t more successful at picking up Mr. Nelson. 
    “You ready?’ she asked.
    No, I need a boob job.
    I glanced in her direction and turned to face the mirror. After inhaling a deep breath and exhaling a very audible sigh, I responded.
    “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

 
     
     
     
    AXTON
    I’ve had a few occasions in my life where I ended up in a situation I wasn’t sure I would ever get myself out of. I’ve had yet other situations where I participated in something willfully I later wished I had the common sense to walk away from. Sometimes promising to do something and actually doing it when the time came were two very different things altogether. But, as any good man would agree, if I gave my word on something, you could count on me to follow through. Committing to place myself in a situation that later turned out to be a terrible idea made me feel as if sometimes I was all too eager to volunteer in the first place. Carefully selecting the events I wanted to participate in seemed to be at least a little more common now that I had a few years under my belt. As an old timer in the club, my participation in criminal acts was carefully chosen, and this particular event was proving to provide me great satisfaction. 
    “What did I do? I don’t understand what’s going on,” the fat fucker blubbered.
    “You sick piece of shit. Shut the fuck up. Say one more God damned word, and I’ll cut off your fucking cock and feed it to you,” Toad shouted as he wedged himself between us.
    Duct taped to the tree and exhausted from being Tased repeatedly during the ten mile trip to the river, the fat child molester cried and blubbered, but he didn’t speak. A second meeting with Frank provided me enough information to allow me to assure myself what we were doing was all for the right reasons.
    I stepped between Toad and the molester, “Listen up. I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer me. You need to think really hard before you lie to me, tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about, or deny any involvement whatsoever. If you do any of those things, this is going to get really bloody really quick. If you understand me, a simple yes or no will be fucking fine. Do you understand me?”
    He continued to cry and slobber, and finally blubbered an almost inaudible yes.
    It was all I could do to make eye contact with him. The more I looked at him, the more I wanted to just get this over with and just kill him. But, I needed him to admit it first. I got about two feet from him and stared into his eyes. Tears ran down his face as I inhaled a slow breath.
    “Alright. I need you to tell me the name of the little boy you molested who had bright red hair. It was pretty recent. All I need is the first name.”
    “Why, was he related or something?” he cried.
    “I’m…”
    “I’m sorry…”
    I pulled my knife, flicked it open, and shoved it into his stomach as far as I could. As I pulled it out, his eyes widened and he began to scream. I’d seen enough of my fat biker buddies stabbed that I knew a fat fucker like him wouldn’t see any real damage from a 3” deep puncture wound to his stomach. It was more to let him know I didn’t want to have a conversation with his fat ass. I simply wanted a name.
    “I told you. I want a name, you fat bastard. The red-headed kid. What was his name? The next one will be in your eye,” I growled as I raised the knife to his face.
    “Stick his fat ass again,” Toad hollered.
    I raised my hand in the air, “Let him speak, Toad. Now, tell me the