by Poppet
She needs to believe that I regret my tone last night, I must pander to her whims during this delicate stage. I've made her breakfast and run her bath. I'll feed her the lie that I'm going out to the Spy Shop, and use it to employ Thomas for his final mission. To wear the armour and appear before her. With me in bed beside her, she'll never consider that I am Vengeance.
I will use the moment to demonstrate my power, murdering Thomas for questioning Father, and at the same time, tying her through guilt and gratitude to me, for eternity.
•
Shauna:
I hear him come into the bedroom as the watery light begins to filter underneath the drapes. His footsteps are quiet but without the hesitance that I remember occurring after a big argument in previous relationships. How does he stay so self-assured?
I listen to the dull thud, sneaking a peek through eyelashes at the tray placed on the bedside table. He bends over me, whispering lips over my brow before whispering in my ear, “I love you angel. I'll do anything for you.” Damn he makes staying cross with him impossible. I open my eyes to stare at his delicious lips. Withdrawing, his expression immediately changes to pensive and worried when he sees I'm awake.
“I made you some breakfast.”
I can smell the coffee and my stomach is grumbling in response to the stimulation. “Thank you.”
Sitting down next to me, he rubs a hand over the nearest leg hidden with the duvet, “You know I love you?”
“Yes.”
He flashes a wry grin. “I've run a deep bath for you, with your favourite Vanilla foam-bath, and a fresh towel is waiting already heated. I have to pop out to get supplies from the Spy Shop to check our homes. Will you be okay if I leave you alone for an hour?”
Isn't he just Mr Perfect. I'm failing at suppressing my smile.
Jolting awake, I am positive the noise I heard was the front door closing. Keeping still, I strain my ears to listen. There! Someone just bumped into something. Alarmed, I grip his forearm with all the intensity of fear pumping through me, whispering urgently, “Victor.”
Shaking him harder, sinking my nails into the skin covering his defined forearm, “Victor.”
“Ow. What?” It's muffled and sleepy.
“He's here.”
“Who?”
“Him!”
“What did you hear?” This time he sounds more alert.
“The door, then a bump.”
“It's probably just a neighbour. Go back to sleep.”
A slow scrape filters into the impenetrable darkness of our bedroom. “Did you hear it?” I whisper fervently. I'm desperate he believes me. My heart is thrashing so frantically with panic that I'm short of breath.
He pushes a finger over my lips, “Shh.” Sneaking the duvet aside, he sits up, moving in silence around the bed to whisper into my ear, pulling me out of bed to join him, “I can't get to the gun without making a noise. Stay behind me. I don't want us separated. I'm going to have to take him down with my bare hands, or he'll hear me and I'll lose the element of surprise.” With that he tugs me, drawing me with him into the eerie gloom outside the bedroom. The floor is sharply cold after the languid heat of the bed.
Yanking the hand holding mine to get his attention, I wait until I can feel his hot breath in my ear before feeling for his to whisper into it, “Be careful.”
“I will.” His voice is so low I can barely hear it.
Yanking again, his breath re-enters my ear. “I love you.”
If Vengeance kills him, I don't think I can go on. I feel him nod, planting a soft kiss onto my neck before chilling air moves between us again, covertly revealing that he's moved. I can't see where we are, or where we're going. Retracing the route, I think he's brought us to the lounge. It circles round to the bathroom passage which meanders on past the bedroom. I wish my teeth would stop clattering.
His hand leaves mine. Paralysed with fear and indecision, I'm not sure what to do.
THUMP.
Oh God. What was that?
Scuffling and grunting follows the thump, then an unholy screech of sliding furniture shatters the claustrophobic silence.
CRACK.
It's such a disturbing pop of a sound, jumping nervously, I'm terrified to move. Afraid that I just heard Vengeance destroy the only thing I love in this whole world.
And I'm next.
A cold trickle runs from my nape down my spine, the dark, the atmosphere of threat, it's so familiar. I can't. No. Please no. Please don't break me again. I've suffered, please … Sinking down to the floor, gripping my knees, I allow myself to weep soundlessly while I wait for the punishment I know is coming.
“Shauna, switch on the light.”
A yelp escapes with the gratitude exploding through me. I'm trembling so violently that my knees knock the floor when I move to get up, the sound reminds me of someone banging to get out of their coffin after being buried alive.
“V – Vic?”
“You're safe, angel. I'm here. Please switch on the light.”
Scrambling for the wall, scuffing the paint with my shaking fingers, I finally locate it and flip it on. Squinting against the searing light, I stare at the leather clad form at Victor's feet. The lounge chair has moved, the table knocked over, but my tormentor lies still. Afraid, I stare at Victor's serious face. “Is – is he?”
“Dead? Yes.”
“How d-do you know?” I'm too afraid this is a ploy, and I'll walk over there and he'll lunge up like a zombie to grab me with his final breath.
“I had him by the neck. I didn't mean to, I was simply trying to get him to pass out so that we could phone the police. If you cut off the air supply in the neck the person faints from lack of oxygen.” Looking away, ashamed, down at the lifeless body prone at his feet, “I guess I was more tense than I realised. I couldn't Shauna … I just couldn't let him hurt you again. I needed him to go down. But …”
“What? Oh God. Victor what?”
“I felt it when I snapped his neck.” Looking up at me, his face pale, he looks haunted by what he's just done.
“It-t was self-defence. You had no choice.”
Victor looks down, moving the body with his foot, “He's unarmed Shauna. We just murdered a man in cold blood.”
This acts as a catalyst for my trembling. I'm going to spend my life in prison because of this maniac. Bursting into tears, I know I'm becoming hysterical.
“We, we can keep it a secret. I can't lose you. They'll send us to prison!” My last word exited my throat as a wail. Balling my fist into my mouth, I fight myself, trying to keep it together. We need to think!
“God Shauna.” He sinks down, staring at the body with obvious turmoil. Flicking his dark gaze back at me, “How are you coping? This is your nightmare come to life.” He moves rapidly through the lounge, pulling me into his arms, soothing me with his strength. He murmurs into my hair, “I'll fix it. You've lost enough. I'll find a way to get rid of this. He's part of the past now. We can put it behind us. I'll keep your secret with me to the grave.”
Unable to be brave any longer, my uncontrollable sobbing steals my breath.
“Let me give you a sedative. You're in shock.”
I manage to shake my head. I have to face my fear. “Take the mask off. I – I have to see if I know him.”
He pulls away, his visage worried. “Honey, are you sure that's a good idea?”
I answer with a firm nod while my stomach twists to the point where I feel like I'm going to vomit. He wraps a warm hand into mine, silently supportive as we advance together to Vengeance. I wait for him to do it. I'm still too afraid to touch him. Victor unzips the black hood with hideous red horns, pulling it up so I can see the man who raped and beat me to the point where I wondered if I was still sane.
He's tall and the suit hides bulky arms. Staring at them unadulterated rage grips me. He hit me with all of that strength! I stare at the nose, the mouth, the perfect brows. He'd blend in anywhere, in a congenial way. Sandy hair, his mo
uth at a naturally happy angle despite death. He looks serene.
I still hate you! You gave me nightmares and hurt me. I'll still have nightmares and you will have peace and serenity! At least no one will bury you and honour your fucked up despicable life!
“Do you know him?”
Shaking my head, the flood of emotions blur Victor. Crumbling, I collapse next to my tormentor, ravaged with the flood of relief, remorse and anger. Bitterly I pound my fist into his chest, “I hate you!” Sniffing as I draw another huge breath, the tears drop onto the buckle. Oh God. His buckle – it's an omega symbol. When he raped me, that belt broke me so severely I thought I'd be scarred for life.
“Disturbing coincidence isn't it?” I was so caught up that my body jumps in reflex as Victor wraps his arm reassuringly around my shoulders. He draws me up, turning me away with insistent hands, “I'm afraid for you and I can't leave you alone in this state. I'm giving you an injection which will make you sleep. You don't need my guilt on your conscience too. If you don't come with me, then you can't answer questions, even under a lie detector test, that will incriminate you. Let me take care of this. But I need to know you're okay and safe first.”
It feels so wonderful with him taking control, always taking care of me, protecting me, he never stops making sure I'm okay. Twisting I wrap my arms around his waist, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” His squeeze is firm and adoring. I'm home; I'm safe.
“I'm sorry.”
“Shauna, never apologise for being my dainty angel. I'm here to protect you. Always.”
~ Chapter 34 ~
Photographs that transcend but do not deny their literal situation appeal to me.
~ Sam Abell
Victor:
This is planned down to the very last detail. She succumbs to unconsciousness almost immediately. Everyone in the building is asleep. My timing is impeccable. The hours between three and four in the morning are always the best hours to commit a crime without witnesses. I own a large canvas duffle bag which I can put him into, to lug him out undetected.
Swiftly dressing in black, I then cram my convenient alibi into the bag. Zipping it up, I grunt with exertion as I haul it onto my shoulder and drag it down the stairs. The elevator has a camera, so that's out of the question. The M3 is deliberately parked in a dark corner close to the stairwell exit.
Summoning my reserve strength I stroll out of the door to the car, forcing the impression that I have laundry in the bag, casually opening the boot and depositing the bag into it with a heavy thump. Pulling my sweater hood down further, I get into the car, only switching on the fog lights as I slowly crawl out into the road.
Driving slowly and noiselessly until two roads away, where I increase to the speed limit, determination casts my face into concentration as I head for the warehouse.
Twenty minutes later I depress the remote button, driving with the lights off on the M3, into the warehouse. Closing the retracting door behind me before switching the lights on.
Working methodically, but with economical speed, I unzip my prey, remove the clothing from his body, and return him to the bag. Heaving it to the Land-rover where I hide it under a tarpaulin. Wrapping the leather suit up, I hide it in the safe before undressing and pulling on my wet-suit. Folding my clothes neatly, I put them in the floor well on the passenger side before climbing in, checking my watch.
The tanks are ready and I have the stun stick and water torch already packed and ready to go. I quickly pull the sweater back on to hide the wet-suit from any observer I pass on the road.
Killing the lights, I start the 4x4, easing out of the building with all the lights off on both car and warehouse. Engaging third gear, I make haste to Cape Point. It's the perfect drop off zone.
The waters out there are known worldwide for their Great White activity. There are many alcoves containing tiny beaches littering the tip of Africa, all of them are only accessible on foot. Anyone on the land wouldn't even see down there in the dark, the drop is that steep. It's also a nature reserve, so there won't be any residents to witness this.
Quietly I direct the Landy off the tiny road, easing her slowly to a lower ridge. Out of view of land level, I cut the engine. Moving with calm haste, I haul the bag out of the back and throw it straight off the edge with a mighty shove. I watch it vaguely catch the slither of moonlight from the crescent moon, thudding all the way down as it rebounds off rocks.
Satisfied, I pull the tanks on, strapping the torch and stun stick to my waist, grabbing the flippers, I high-tail it down the rocky descent. All those years of hiking and rock climbing coming in useful after all.
Briefly I unzip the bag to stare at the greedy corpse of a man who doubted the word of Alpha. He questioned authority. He was once one of us, but insubordination is only permitted for so long before you have to be removed permanently. Those on the inside know too much and cannot be permitted escape.
When he argued with me about God's law and it being out of date for our age, undermining Father, right then I knew we could do without him, and he would be a willing participant. He thought he'd been forgiven when I told him I required him to enter my home wearing the suit of God's army. Staring into his immobile face, I pray, performing the last sacrament for another lost soul.
Pulling on my flippers and then the goggles, I grab the handle of the bag and calmly wade into the choppy sea. It's so dark down here, I feel serene, peaceful. Slipping under, placing the mouthpiece into my mouth and testing it, I swim out, only using the torch when I am forced to.
Checking my watch for depth after seven minutes, I unzip the bag, leaving both the body and the bag behind in this ocean graveyard. It's embryonic inside the ocean; calm and reassuring. Unsheathing his body, I pull the chain out of the bag, securing it around his waist so that he won't float to the surface. The carrion eaters of the sea will take care of the evidence for me, salt water will erase all DNA evidence. It's subliminally perfect.
Hauling as many rocks as I can manage, I weigh down the chain. Checking my watch again through the mirage of bubbles from my exhalation, I've been gone for thirty-five minutes. I have to get back or the neighbours may be awake for my return. No witnesses. Or Alpha will cast me in here to join my latest victim of convenience.
I secure the bag around ocean debris before swimming with the grace of a stingray back to the alcove. Standing, I snatch off my goggles and flippers. Hooking both to the belt, I use my brute strength to literally pull myself up over the rocky incline, back to the car.
Swiftly changing back into my clothes, I neatly pack the diving gear away into the storage boxes in the back. Hopping in, I force myself to meander the car casually out of the Cape Point reserve, back onto the main road. Pressured to speed where I can, I make it back to the warehouse in thirteen minutes. I haven't passed a single car and am supremely confident I have no witnesses.
Changing vehicles, I guide my metal steed home with impatience. Quietly parking in my usual spot, and taking a pretend tipsy walk back up to the sixth floor, silently unlocking the door and flitting inside like just another shadow on a malevolent night.
Pausing in the bedroom, I check on her. Fast asleep and oblivious. “He's gone now angel. Now it's just you and me.”
Stooping, I kiss her warm brow briefly, before taking my clothes off. I douse them with oil. Blood is a protein. DNA contains protein. The best way to remove it during a wash is to first dilute it with fat. Animal fat would have been better, but I don't have time. Shoving them straight into the washer, preparing it with the necessary detergents.
It's vaguely beginning to lighten with pre-dawn. Hurrying, I step into the shower. Washing first with isopropyl alcohol, then scrubbing with salt. Appreciating the lazy heat, I use the soap after the initial cleansing. Lathering up, rejuvenating my body and mind.
Finishing – I shave, slap on Aramis, and dress again in casual light blue Levi's and matching t-shirt. Leaving shoes off, I stroll to the kitchen, switching on the machine t
o clean the clothes, my only witness. My shoes will cling to evidence. Picking them up, I place them into an incineration bag. Slipping loafers on, I leave the building again. Leaving my angel of serenity to her dreams of me.
Using her car this time, I slip in, starting it, and drive to the surgery which is a mere three minutes away. It's 4:30 a.m. Still early enough to go undetected. Using my remote I disable the security. Instantly cutting camera footage into our offices.
Rifling the key out of my pocket, I unlock the surgery door, flitting in and walking swiftly to the incinerator. It's always kept on. This is a mainstay in our profession. You have to burn the pieces of body removed for vanity by the paying bitches.
Dropping the bag with the shoes, and the leather suit he wore in another incineration bag, into the furnace, I indulge in a fleeting smile. Satisfied I've covered every angle, I escape back into the night, re-locking and activating the premises, returning home. I note one light on in the northern side of the building where we live in Sandown Road. I park her car where I found it, loping quickly back up the stairs and into apartment six-one-six.
Sitting down on the suede couch, I remotely open the curtains and blinds as I remove my shoes. Appreciating Father's amazing talent as a creator with each new day. Those who sleep late miss the best part of creation, dawn.
Walking to the kitchen, I pour myself a celebratory whiskey. Johnny Blue. I don't drink much, but like to have a selection of fine whiskey. I can't say why, it's my one personal indulgence. Downing it, I then place the glass into the dishwasher. Turning my attention to making coffee. Post murder ardour grips me as I train a lazy eye on the dripping coffee. It makes me crave sin after taking life. She's warm and lethargic just three doors away from me. I could go in and spill my pride into her.
