He lays there motionless, she wipes the vodka off her lips, adrenaline should be kicking, but surprisingly it seems quite steady.
She poisoned him just enough so he could be helpless, yet able to feel it.
His mouth spitting despicable words earlier, now cannot even attempt a breath.
A bloody hair dryer set on the night stand, someone should have taught this little boy his manners.
She politely refused him once, even twice, if he did not get it, she gave him a lesson he would never forget.
One that will stick in his brain for a very long time.
She takes another drink from the bottle of cheap vodka, her knuckles still swollen from the multiple punches she gave as a kind gift to his finely chiseled chin.
Strategic hits under the jaw, calculated use of force, and fierce urge were her main ingredients.
She isn’t the strongest, but with enough knowledge, even a chicken can kill a rooster.
She contemplates what she will do with the body, the blood spatter will tell of foul play.
Perhaps even homicide, you never know.
It has gone down so many times in her mind that it is already monotone.
Certain death?
No.
Way.
Get caught?
Everything is legal until somebody catches you.
Eye for an Eye.
Everything happens for a reason.
You could use all of these, but they would be too epic, too dressed up.
This was just instinct. Pure human instinct.
She moves his body, the hairs on her skin stand up as if in a final salute.
She opens her eyes, dilated pupils in the dark.
It was all a dream.
Turning on her side she smirks, it may be a dream, but do remember.
We dream what we think of most.
Thank you for sharing this shuddering shadow, Dyana.
tim says it. aahh what a dream.