Retribution

Forgive me if my grammar is not too proper. I am working on it. I hope you enjoy the story. If you have any comments, do not hesitate to let me know. Enjoy.

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Prologue

There I was, face down on the pebbles. The bitter December cold was not helping much. I felt the chill run down my spine, giving me goose bumps all over. I attempted to overpower the giant, but Goliath wouldn't have it. He pushed his huge boot down onto my back vigorously, making it difficult for me to move or breath.

"What do you want me to do boss?" Goliath yelled, in a deep muscular voice.

"Release him," Bobby answered.

As the force of his boot decreased, I heaved for air, taking a deep breath, inflating my lungs with fresh oxygen. Once I gained my respiration, I raised my head. My sight fixed to what was ahead. Bobby advanced closer to me, all I recognised was his silhouette, but I knew it was him from his posture.

He stopped a few feet away from me, stood there staring at me for a moment before he attacked me with questions. "Who are you? Why were you following me? For whom are you working for?" The emphasis of his voice demanded an answer.

He retrieved a cigarette lighter from his pocket and inflamed his cigarette. The small flame from the zippo had shed enough light to reveal his face. I gritted my teeth on seeing the man that caused my family and me so much sorrow. He stepped closer, manoeuvred the flame around, analysing my face. For a split second, he seemed confused. He then took a step back, with an expression of shock on his face. Was it the deformity on my cheek or recognition that disturbed him? I wasn't sure.

"Can I finish him off now boss?" my assaulter asked. He reminded me of a child who asks for approval, before doing something.

"Kill him!" Bobby ordered the giant. He then turned around and walked away, vanishing into the night.

Chapter 1

For five months, that is how long I have been waiting for my retribution. A single word has been poisoning my mind. A voice in my head keeps saying, "retribution, retribution, retribution."

Is this the end, does my retribution end here? Underneath the Brighton Pier on a chilly night, by the hands of a thug. I closed my eyes as memories swamped my mind.

Five months back

It was July 10. The weather was perfect, not a single cloud in the sky. As my wife and I rushed through the square of Covent Garden, my goal was to get to Theatre Royal Drury Lane. I say my goal because it was a birthday surprise for my wife, Julie. We bustled passed the market stools. I held her hand tight, as we dodged the tourists and entertainers.

"What race are we in?" Julie shouted as she attempted to keep up with me.

"We are nearly there my love," I replied.

As I approached the corner of Catherine Street, I had to force myself to stop. I was trying to avoid from slamming into the group of people ahead of me. "What is going on here?" I said. Pretending to be oblivious of what was happening around us.

With a smile on her face, Julie said, "Oh, everyone must be waiting to get into the theatre to watch 42nd Street. I was reading the reviews about this show, which is playing at Theatre Royal Drury Lane. You have to reserve tickets months in advance." She sighed as she observed all the happy faces amongst the huge crowd. "They must be waiting for the doors to open." She raised herself onto her toes, hoping to see a celebrity amongst the crowd.

"You mean these tickets?" I commenced waving two tickets in front of her.

With a sharp twist of her body, she turned around, her eyes centred on the two theatre tickets.

"Not the best seats in the house, but they will give us admission to watch 42nd Street," I announced.

"Oh my God, oh my God!" she repeatedly screamed, as she leapt towards me, embracing me in a firm hug. Kissing me, imprinting lips all over my face with her bright red lipstick. Her performance was getting a few chuckles from the masses around us.

Between the smouldering of her lips, I managed to speak, "Happy Birthday my love." I received another round of attacks by her lips.

Patiently we waited in the queue to enter the theatre. Julie was trying to remove the lipstick streaks from my face by using a wet tissue. She kept on repeatedly thanking me for the beautiful birthday surprise. That is when I felt someone patting me on the shoulder. I turned to see a tall, slim man. He seemed not more than thirty years old. He was well dressed, in a three-piece suit. His hair all greased back, like someone out of a gangster movie. I discovered a few months later that this mobsters name was Bobby. Next to Bobby stood a giant, A Goliath of a man, which I found out in time he was Bobby's henchman.

"I'll give you £200?" Bobby said.

"Not for sale," I responded. Turning back to face the front, holding Julie by her hand, my fingers locked into hers.

"I'll give you £500?" he insisted.

Turning, with force in my voice I replied, "Look the tickets are not for sale!" I stared into his eyes, attempting to make my point.

He curled his lips into a grin. "I'm not talking about your tickets, buddy. I want to buy your bitch for £500." His expression, turned to rage, as he looked down at the ground, my eyes trailed his sight. He had a switchblade in his hand, pointed directly at my body, only a few inches away from me. I instantly reacted, moving Julie behind me to guard her.

"We have to go, boss," said the henchman, his eyes focused along Catherine Street.

Two police officers were patrolling the street. They were walking towards us.

"Until we meet again," Bobby said with a smirk on his face. He gazed into my eyes, at that instant I knew this was not over. With a swift turn, they both disappeared into the heaps of people.

Julie was shaken up. I was too, but my concern was for Julie's well-being. I had dealt with thugs like this in the past. I could deal with them, but I was worried about Julie. My wife wanted to stop the police officers to notify them about the incident.

"They have gone. Let's put it behind us and enjoy our evening," I said.

Not being able to appreciate the show, I sat there and gazed at the stage for three hours. I was thinking of what occurred outside with the two thugs. Maybe Julie was right. We should have informed the officers.

Once the show ended, we made our way out by the exit doors on the side of the theatre. As soon as we were on the street, that is when I tried to be more alert to what was occurring around us. Julie grabbed my arm, tugging herself toward me, as we strolled through Covent Garden. All the shop owners had closed for the night. The only movement in the square was pedestrians hurrying to their destinations. I could feel Julie tighten her grip on my arm, as we walked faster within Covent Garden Square. I attempted to appear normal, not to alarm her. Once we reached the Underground Station, Julie's grip loosened slightly.

We raced through the ticket barriers, with our pre-paid tickets, as quickly as we could. Both of us relieved on seeing the lift doors open that would take us down to the train tunnel. "Hey, don't worry, they are long gone," I said. We smiled at each other, as we got into the lift.

There was some movement on the platform. People were anticipating for the train to arrive. I believe we were not the only commuters in a rush to get back home, after an evening in Central London. The electronic timetable showed 'Cockfosters two minutes'. Cockfosters was our stop. Once the train's lights appeared within the tunnel, everyone stepped closer to the edge of the platform. I inhaled a deep breath and held it as the train came to a halt. Once the doors opened, we both leapt into the carriage, claiming two seats next to each other.

The train's doors hesitated on closing. A minute later the carriage intercom crackled to life. The male voice said, "There will be a twenty-minute delay due to faulty light signals ahead. We are sorry for the inconvenience."

Passengers around us protested about the delay. After some minutes, everyone accepted the suspension and settled down. More passengers piled into the carriage, causing it to overflow. The doors eventually started to close. They stopped midway. Opening and closing, smashing together repeatedly.

Turning to Julie, I said, "Now what's happened?"

A pregnant woman seated opposite us stated, "Probably, some fool tried to board the carriage while the doors were closing." Her remark got everyone's attention as they began to protest again. Some swayed their heads, while others rolled their eyes.

"I tried that once. The door hit me in the ribs. I'm never doing that again," the man sitting next to me confessed. He began to rub the side of his ribcage. Suddenly the doors slammed together, closing.

Once the train began to move, the journey to Cockfosters would only take a half-hour. As the train stopped at each station, passengers would get off. A handful of commuters remained on each carriage when we reached our destination.

"When we exit the station, another ten-minute walk and we are home," I said.

Going up the escalator towards the exit, that is when I saw him. He was standing at the top, looking down at each person as they stepped off the moving stairway. I knew it was him from his abnormal size. It was Goliath. Julie saw him as well, fear was written all over her face. When we reached the top, we both scanned the area, turning our heads in all directions. We couldn't see him anywhere.

"They must have followed us, in another carriage," I said. I began walking around in circles, worried more for Julie, then myself. "I'll call your father, to come and pick us up." I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket, pressed the speed dial to call my father-in-law. It went straight to voicemail. I tried to talk to the underground attendants. Communication with them was minimal. They were too preoccupied, preparing to close the station, as it was after midnight.

When all the passengers were out of the station including us, the underground attendant pushed the gate shut behind us. Everyone scattered in different directions. Within second the road was empty. There wasn't a soul in sight except for Julie and me. We crossed the street towards Chalk Lane. We stopped by the lamp post, on the corner of the road. The buzzing from the bulb above made us both look up, then at each other. That is when we heard footsteps behind us. Turning around we saw Goliath coming towards us, arms swinging back and forth.

"Tony I am terrified!" Julie cried. Those were the last words my wife said to me.

"Julie, take your stilettoes off and run, run fast. Whatever happens, do not turn back. Just run home," I commanded her. Kissing her on the lips, I then pushed her to go. "I love you," I yelled, as she sprinted down the street.

Goliath rushed towards me, at an aggressive pace. I tensed my body, adopting a defensive position. I was ready for him. When he was near enough, I dodged the clumsy giant as he tried to strike me. I succeeded in making him lose his balance. I nudged him with my shoulder, causing him to go tumbling into a nearby skip. The impact created a clunking sound. With a vigorous shake of his head, Goliath was up on his feet in no time. He balled his fists. He rushed towards me again. It was the sudden screech of brakes, and then the female scream that got my attention. I glanced away from my aggressor. That gave him the leverage he needed. Like a tiger attacking its prey, Goliath leapt onto me. He slammed into me with force. I went crashing into the ground. I was dazed. He managed to bury his boot into my ribcage. I wasn't able to get back up. He jumped on top of me, beating the living daylights out of me. I fought to defend myself, but he was too powerful. Everything went dark.

How long I was unconscious, I do not know. When I came round, two figures were standing over me. I could scarcely see them in the dark. They were in deep conversation as they gestured with their hands towards me. I was too dazed to comprehend what they were saying. I closed my eyes, as I drifted back into darkness.

When I came around, still disoriented, I was in much pain, my head, my ribs, my whole body was throbbing. I realised I was in a moving vehicle, lying on the back seat. The sudden judder caused by the bumps on the road induced the pain. I tried to lift myself upwards, but the pain was unbearable. "The women ...," I mumbled. I got the driver's attention. He pulled over, bringing the car to a stop.

He turned to look at me. When he saw my eyes were open, he said, "I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"No, no hospital. We need to go back for my wife," I muttered. He stared at me for a moment then put the car in gear. As the vehicle began to move, my eyes slowly shut again.

It was the sunlight which was shining into my eyes that woke me up. I closed my eyelids at once, as it was too bright. I reopened them slowly, as I scanned my surroundings. Opposite from the bed I was lying on. A large wooden crucifix was hanging on the wall. I forced myself to raise my body off the mattress. The agony was still intolerable. I collapsed back, causing me more anguish. When I tried to check my wounds, bandages covered my chest down to my waist.

I was in the progress of examining my body to see the extent of my injuries. All of a Sudden the door swung open. A priest entered the room. I figured he was a priest from the beard and the cassock around his neck.

"Good morning," the priest said.

I didn't respond with words. I nodded my head slowly, trying to avoid any more pain.

He looked at me for a moment, before he spoke, "You have been sleeping for a couple of days. Let me get you some soup. You must be starving." He left, returning a few minutes later with a bowl.

"Where am I? How long have I been here? Who took care of my wounds? I stopped for a moment to get my breath back. When I spoke, I felt a sharp pain around my ribcage. "I was with a lady, what happened to her?" I needed answers. I demanded a response. "What happened to the woman I was with?"

Putting the bowl of soup on the bed cabinet next to me, he left the room. He returned a while later with a newspaper in his hand and gave it to me. I started reading the column he showed me.

'Woman in coma after hit & run.' The heading said in large bold letters. I began reading the article. Halfway through the paragraph, I launched the paper across the room. I tried to climb out of bed, with no success. I was too weak to get up. Dizziness caused me to collapse back onto the mattress.

The priest left the room, to give me some privacy.

All night I sobbed for my wife.

Chapter 2

I have been here for almost a week, recovering from my injuries. I owe my life to my saver, the priest that brought me here. The man of God, he has been taking care of my injuries. It's hard to guess how old he is, from the thick beard that covers most of his facial features. He is a tall and slim man, always standing straight, full of confidence.

It was late in the afternoon. For one hour I was struggling in bed to bring myself in an upright position. When the priest sees how much I have progressed, he will be delighted. Also, I must break my silence today. From the day he showed me the newspaper article, I have not spoken a single word to him. Staring at the clock, I counted the second as I watched the second-hand move, listening to the ticking sound it made. I waited patiently. He should be here soon.

The door creaked open. It was the priest. Like the previous days, he was carrying a large tray with both hands. It was my dinner. He carefully pushed the door open with his back, and once he was inside the room, he placed the items he was holding on top of the dressing table. His front still turned away from me. Turning around, he had a shocked look on his face for a moment. He had never seen me sitting up. The startled look, turned into a smile, as he approached me.

He nodded his head. "I see you are up, that is excellent," he said.

I nodded back and whispered, "Yes, thank you."

Like clockwork, he retrieved a First Aid bag from under the bed. He unzipped it and removed from inside the items he would be using. He prepared the objects in order on the bedside cabinet. In silence, he commenced removing my bandages. Followed by cleaning the wounds, and then replaced the dressings with fresh once. He finished by tightening the bandage around my waist, which caused me discomfort. I gritted my teeth from the sharp pain.

"You are still sore I see. However you are healing," he said. "Now, let's see your face," the priest said.

He removed the dressing from my left cheek, leaving it uncovered for a few minutes, as he examined the cut. He prepared a soaked gauze pad by dipping it in saline solution. He then dabbed the dressing onto the wound, cleaning the area from any infection. Unrolling a fresh bandage, he reached out to cover the cut. With my hand raised, I stopped him halfway from finishing his task.

"I would like to see it, please?" I asked.

"Are you sure? It's not a pretty sight," he warned me.

I nodded my head. "I have to see it sooner or later," I replied

The priest revealed a hand mirror from inside the First Aid bag. He was sceptical on handing it over to me, a few seconds later he placed the object into the palm of my hand. I gradually raised the mirror to look at my reflection. Once I had a full view of my face, my vision went to the cut on my cheek. Bringing the mirror closer, I analysed the deep slash which began below my eye, going down to my cheek. Dropping the mirror onto my lap, I turned my head away and began to weep.

It was the sound of the creaking door that got my attention. The priest was leaving the room. I had to stop him. "Wait! Please, don't leave!" I yelled.

He came to the side of the bed, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I know how you feel. It's not a very nice sight to look at, but once it heals, it will not look so bad. The cut was not too deep. You will hardly notice it in a year." He tried to convince me.

"I want to apologise, father. For my ill-mannered actions, all these days, you have been taking care of me." I paused for a moment. "I have not said one word to you. I don't even know your name?"

"Father Petrou, a pleasure to meet you," he said, taking my hand in a firm grip for a handshake. "I was wondering when you were going to speak. I thought you took a vow of silence." He smiled.

"Tony Demetriou, it's a pleasure to meet you, Father Petrou." I pulled his hand towards me, tilted my head forward to kiss it. It is an ancient custom we do, signifying respect to our spiritual family.

He drew his hand back quickly. "You don't have to do that my son." There was a moment of silence, where we gazed at each other. "Her condition is the same. She is still in a coma, but she is stable," he said.

He got my attention. "Have you seen Julie? When did you see her?" I pulled the bed sheet back, ready to climb out of bed. The sudden movement made me unstable. I was still weak. "That wasn't a good idea," I said.

"Hold on, let's get you well first. Then we can visit your wife." While speaking, he brought the tray over to the bed. He placed it on my laps, as close as possible for me to eat, on my own. "Now eat up, once you can walk we'll go to the hospital to see her. Eat up. I'm not going to feed you forever." He smiled.

It took another week until I was up on my feet and able to go outside. My place of sanctuary is the annexe part of the Church of St. Barnabas. A small room in the backyard of the church is where I sleep. It has a toilet and shower, but no kitchen. The kitchenette is an extension of the church. It was perfect for me until I heal.

Gradually I started to walk. I used the church courtyard to exercise my legs. I limped slowly along the path, doing laps around the church. I would only come out during the night, Away from the eyes of the world. I was not ready for people to see me like this yet. Father Petrou would help me in the evenings, as he had his clergyman duties in the morning.