CHAPTER ONE
I ’ m 24 years old and it ’ s a humid evening in July of 1995 .
I ’ m sitting in my car under a large maple tree in the far corner of a parking lot where I work as a bouncer . Smoke from my cigarette is swirling around my head , and I ’ m contemplating the ecstasy of taking my own life . There is nothing I want more than to die .
Life has become too hard , and every waking moment reminds me I ’ m a piece of shit . I ’ m filled with hate for myself , and for everyone who ever spat in my face , but before I kill myself , I want retribution . I want other people to suffer for my pain because it is them who ’ ve turned me into what I have become .
It is not fear that stops me from ending my life . I am fearless . There ’ s nothing anyone can do to me that hasn ’ t already been done . I ’ m so fucking hardened by betrayal I no longer care what happens to me or anyone else as a consequence of my actions . I want to die , but first someone needs to pay for these betrayals . I ’ ve already sold my soul to the devil , but before I go , I want others to suffer the way I have .
The heavy cloud of smoke follows me as I finally leave my car . I stretch my legs , sigh and stride across the hotel parking lot to the front entrance of the bar . The hotel is adjoined by three entertainment sections on the main ground level . I make my way through the crowd of people smoking and eating hot dogs from the stand outside the main bar , which at 8:30 pm , is the only entertainment section open . I can ’ t resist spitting a thick stream of black phlegm as the Harleys and pick-up trucks cram into the parking lot and burley , sleeveless men dressed in leather wander about talking to trashy-looking women . If I ’ m looking for retribution , I ’ ve come to the right place .
Stepping out from the light of the sun as it drops behind the mountains , I walk through the entrance and into the darkened bar . I head straight to the main counter to get my regular rum and coke in a pint glass . The booze will help dull my rage for a while longer , but soon I ’ ll need something more . I ’ m the first doorman on shift so I ’ ll be on my own for another hour until the rest of the crew arrives . Reluctantly , I perch myself on a stool , drink in hand , next to the front doors where I can see across the massive room while keeping an eye on people coming and going .
The bar is already almost packed to its official capacity of three hundred . Before long the room will be overflowing in excess of four hundred who have come for the cheap two-dollar pints of draft beer and the greasy one-dollar burgers with all the fixings . Some have come for the mainstage cover band , but everyone has come to blow off steam as the night wears on .
Throughout the night , the parking lot will resemble a fighting ring circled by eager spectators on the sidewalk who want to see blood flow from the young and not so young men who test themselves in an arena where anything goes . There is an energetic feeling that is unmistakable . The antics are still funloving and subdued for now . I can only wait .
As a way to keep myself from being sucked into the internal nightmare of my own thoughts of selfloathing , I turn my attention to the people in the bar . In my eyes , every person in the establishment is potential prey , and as I look coldly into their faces , I assess them as either a no , a maybe , or a yes . I ’ m