by Nikki Sex
"He's been shot," Kelly said to a firemen as strode toward them.
"An ambulance is on its way," the man said, taking over the first aid care of John.
"Call the police, too," Kelly said. Mable came up to Kelly with a white terrycloth bathrobe, and Kelly gratefully put it on.
"I called the police," Mable said. "I saw it all Kelly, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get involved and somehow make things worse."
"Mable," Kelly said. "Will you call a man named Detective Lorenzo Martin for me? He will want to know what happened here. He will take your statement."
"Of course," Mable said. "I'm so sorry I couldn’t do more for you, sweetheart."
"You did plenty," Kelly said.
There were crowds of people around now, all wanting to help. Kelly's whole body was trembling, but John was too weak to say much so it was up to her.
"That crazy person over there tried to kill us," she told them. A sudden flash of memory hit her and her pulse quickened. "Oh, Jesus!" she cried out in a loud, shrill voice. "Check the street everyone! There is a man in a car somewhere around here. He may still be alive. That crazy woman over there told me that she shot him."
A stretcher arrived and John was lifted on to it. "I'm coming with you," Kelly determinedly informed the emergency services officer.
The woman gave her a kind smile. "Sure, come along, honey. Hey, wait a minute," she said when she saw in the light all the blood on Kelly's face and neck. "Christ almighty, were you shot, too?"
"Oh," Kelly said with a shaky laugh. "That isn't my blood. But my hand is sure sore," she held it out to show the woman, "and my feet and legs were burned and they are absolutely killing me."
Bringing the picture of Brenda with her, Kelly got into the ambulance and sat near John's feet as they drove with lights and sirens to hospital. The ambulance officer gave Kelly a cotton bandage and some ice for her burns, but she had no time to attend to Kelly's injuries. They had notified the hospital that a gunshot wound was coming in, and that the victim had lost a lot of blood.
The treating officer put a line in each of John's arm's, and began pumping liquid into him as fast as humanly possible. John, pale and trembling, was no longer able to talk.
By the time they got him to hospital, he was unconscious.
25. Hospital Two Days Later
"Are you okay?" John rasped, studying Kelly's face. He still felt a little woozy, but he was alive and able to sit up slightly in bed. Today he had been told that he would be allowed visitors for short spaces of time.
Kelly bent over and kissed him lightly on the lips, and then took his good hand and squeezed it. John lightly curled his fingers around hers.
"Never better," she said.
John smiled at her. "My heroine," he rasped again and then because his throat was raw, he decided to whisper. "Thank you, Kelly. You saved my life."
Kelly kissed him. "You're welcome," she said. "But you helped, John. You knew exactly how to distract her."
"Will you get me some water?" he whispered. His throat felt sore and dry.
"Oh, of course!" There was a straw in his glass, and Kelly brought it to his lips. John leaned his head forward and drank gratefully, resting back on the pillow when finished.
"That's better," he said. "Do you have any idea how many times you've saved my life, Kelly? Once when you were only a child when you gave me hope. And then as an adult. I really wasn't living before I met you again. And finally you literally saved my life from someone who wanted to shoot me." John shook his head. "It's going to take years to repay you."
Kelly raised her eyebrows up and down suggestively. "I like the sound of that."
"You called me, baby," John said, flashing back to that moment and remembering her endearment suddenly. He knew he hadn't been thinking that clearly at the time, but he recalled that because it had surprised him and kind of pleased him.
"You are my baby," she said and her pale blue eyes were soft and bright.
John didn’t know what to say, but his throat felt thick just knowing that Kelly wanted to call him a special endearment. He would have to learn about the expected boyfriend, girlfriend customs. Maybe there was something about it on Google. Should he perhaps call her sweetheart or something? But then John remembered that he already called her 'beautiful girl' from time to time, so maybe that was okay.
"How's the hand?" he asked.
"Well, as you can see I had surgery, too." Kelly held up her right hand that was in a splint and sling. "I've damaged the flexor tendons in my thumb, and two fingers. I have to wear this splint for two months. Actually my leg and foot burns hurt more, how about your burns?"
"This patient controlled anesthesia is great." He gazed over at the small rectangle machine that was connected to the drip in his arm. "I'm now an official fan of morphine." He smiled. "I'm sleeping really well. Nothing hurts much, and if it does I just press the button. I don’t have to press it often."
"That's good," Kelly gave him her big beautiful grin. "Oh," she said, "my security guard wasn't dead, isn't that great? He's in critical condition, but is expected to recover."
"Good."
"What me to read your cards? Lots of people have called."
"No."
Kelly smiled at his brief answer, but John could see that underneath there was something making her just a little bit gloomy, and uncharacteristically low. "What's wrong, Kelly?" John asked, knowing that she was pretending to be happy for his sake. "Tell me."
"Oh, well," she said with a little sigh. "You have lost your lovely home, and it's sad that you no longer have all your photos of Brenda." She looked at the framed picture of John and his aunt that was sitting beside his bed. "Except for this one."
"Anything else?" he prodded.
There was a frown on her face when she said, "I know it's silly, but I realized this morning that now I'll never get to see the letter you wrote me. You know the one in reply to the one I wrote you? I was looking forward to reading that someday."
"Is that right?" John asked feeling a bubble of joyfulness burst inside. He was ridiculously happy, because he knew that he was going to make Kelly happy, and making Kelly happy was one of his favorite things.
Picking up on his mood, Kelly gave him an open, curious expression.
"Kelly, Kelly, Kelly," John said with a chuckle. "I would have thought you knew me better than that. Am I the kind of man that leaves things to chance? Don't you know by now that I am paranoid, obsessive, and look at least twelve steps ahead in everything I do? I have a flame proof safe buried under the floor boards, hidden so well that even the forensic police missed it. Your letter to me is perfectly safe, and so is mine. And I still have all of Brenda's photos."
Kelly's eyes lit up, and she burst out laughing while doing a little happy dance. "God I love you, John Taylor," she said.
A nurse came in, and put a hand to John's wrist, checking his pulse. "Sorry Mr. Taylor, but that is all for now. You are too weak yet for extended visitation. You need your rest. I've told that police officer he isn’t allowed to come in, either."
John said, "Alright. I am tired. I think I can sleep, but Kelly will you bring me a pen and paper and money? I have a few things to attend to."
"Sure," she said and kissed him good bye. "I'll be back soon with the stuff you want, and after that I'll see you tomorrow."
John heard Lorenzo's male voice speaking to Kelly as she left, and her cheerful inaudible reply. Good, he thought. Let those two compare notes. And then he slept.
~~~
When John woke again he had a pen, note paper and his wallet on his bedside table.
Hospital catering had left a meal on the table by his bed, but he had been sleeping and they had let him sleep, bless them. John lifted the lid that was on the plate, keeping his meal warm. Ugh. Pureed food. It looked disgusting and he didn't feel the least bit hungry.
John settled for a large drink of water, and then he began to write. The important thing in this si
tuation was to strike without hesitation, and to show no mercy. John knew from personal experience that it was always better to kick one's enemy when they were down.
Lucky for him his mother had shot him in the left shoulder and it hadn't affected his writing hand.
Father,
It is clear to me that the terms of our treaty are irrevocably broken.
I submit that your sub was acting on your behalf. Her murderous actions are in the hands of the police, and the media will be fully informed. I am writing to tell you that I have given the video of your actions to my solicitor and have instructed him to take legal action in both civil and criminal courts.
After judging others for so long, are you now prepared to be judged?
My intentions are to:
1. Cause you to lose your position
2. Take all your money from damages (pain and suffering)
3. Make you irrevocably lose any shred of reputation you once had
4. Have you incarcerated as the sadistic pedophile that you are
I am writing this letter to serve as warning.
May you rot in hell,
John
John folded the paper over and addressed it with the number of his father's home. Then he checked his wallet, happy to see plenty of cash.
John used the phone then and called FedEx to arrange pick up. Within the hour a man about forty years old arrived to take his letter away. Wearing a dark blue uniform, the courier was smiling with a professional air of competence. The man was blond, about six feet four, and looked like a wrestler. Well, John thought. So much the better.
"I want you to deliver this letter immediately," John said.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I don't think…" the man began, but John pulled out a $100 bill as a tip and held it out to him. The courier grew quiet, but took the money.
"Dunthorpe is only twenty-five minutes from here," John said. "If you deliver that now, and return to me before six p.m. today, I will give you another $100." John paused to let that information sink in. "All I want in exchange is for you to describe how the recipient looks, with a confirmation signature and details of how this was received. My father will be at home, I assure you. When he sees the FedEx truck arrive, he will take your letter. This courier job is not irregular in any way, except for my urgency for him to receive this letter. Can you do it?"
The older man grinned. "Sure thing. I'll do it right now."
26.The Next Day
John Taylor's father committed suicide overnight.
First thing the next morning, Kelly came in and told John all about it. "Detective Martin called me, and asked me to tell you about the death of that evil pig you lived with as a child. He wants to see you when you're up for it."
"Good," John said, smirking from the way she had described his father. "I want to see him, too."
John told Kelly about the letter he had sent, and her reaction was one of unholy joy as she raised her one good hand in the air and did a little dance of joy. "I shouldn't be so happy, and I shouldn’t gloat, I guess, but John, you're a genius! I swear I wanted to go kill that man myself for what he did to you. But it's even better that he killed himself."
"Thank you, beautiful girl."
"Well, he was a bastard, and I hope he is rotting in hell right now."
John smiled, because that had been his exact thought, too. Not very forgiving of him, but he wasn't a saint by any means.
A member of the hospital kitchen staff, in a light green uniform, brought a meal in, and Kelly busied herself arranging his tray. Taking the cover off, Kelly removed the fork, knife and spoon from their wrapper first.
His father, 'Sir' was dead, and the relief of it was still flowing though John in light-hearted waves. How could his father cope without his mother to blame and torment? John's father, a man who found it pleasurable to cause mental and physical pain, had no ability to endure similar anguish.
A true bully, John had hoped that his father would take the coward's way out, and would kill himself once he received his letter.
And he had been right.
Kelly was messing with the little salt and pepper containers, and she was humming because she was content. That made John content, too.
John's mother was another matter. It had taken years, but his father had obviously driven her mad. Had his mother once been a sweet and attentive sub, not unlike Kelly? Had it been in his mother's nature to need and want to please her Dom? John would never know, because the woman had been damaged and broken by the time he had come under her care. Was it years of gradually worsening abuse that drove his mother into tormenting her own child?
The thought gave him chills.
It made it even more important that he make every effort to always be a good man. Yet sexually submissive or not, Kelly was a strong woman with her own moral compass. She would never allow him to fall into such wickedness. Kelly made John feel safe from himself.
"Okay John," Kelly said brightly. "My turn to feed you. Runny scrambled eggs, probably powdered. How sexy is that? Yum. Open up."
John chuckled and Kelly continued chatting, mainly about the soft diet he was on, and how she planned to sneak him in some real food. Real food would probably make him ill, but he didn't say anything. John took his time chewing, as his stomach was rather unsettled.
One thing John had learned in life was that bullies were weak, cowardly people who caused mental or physical pain in order to get their own way. Yet that observable behavior was only the tip of the iceberg.
John intimately understood the impulse and compelling need to act out one's own personal pain, self hate and aggression by directing it at others.
I have been there. Who could better understand the behavior of a bully than him? But what anguish had caused his father to become so evil? Not that anything could excuse or justify his father's actions. In the end it was every man or woman's personal choice, no matter what had happened to them.
A bully's real weakness was in blaming others, in taking no responsibility, and refusing to look at themselves. 'Never underestimate the power of denial," the saying went. How true.
André Chevalier had helped John to look and learn. André had started him down the road to responsibility and understanding. The ancient Greek quote: 'Know thyself' was easy to say. Overwhelmed as he had been with pain, anger and hate, it had been extremely difficult to do. John knew that he had further to go, but Kelly had been the cornerstone, the final key to everything.
Wearing a big grin, Kelly put another spoon full of egg into his mouth. John didn’t want it, but he was enjoying her enjoyment, so he made no objection and obediently continued to eat but very, very slowly.
I am nothing without Kelly, he thought while gazing at her cheerful expression and recalling his empty existence before she came into his life. John's lips curved. But with her, I am everything.
John used the phone after breakfast and called Detective Martin.
"Hey, John," Lorenzo said. "How's it hangin'?"
"All is well," John said. "Are you working? Can you visit? I know the nursing staff chased you off yesterday, but we have some business to finalize."
"I'm working, but I feel perfectly justified in stopping by on the government's dime. Will they let me in to see you?"
"They seem fairly pleased with my progress, so chances are."
"Alright," Lorenzo said. "Hey, thanks for solving and finalizing that sticky case. I gotta say, I had your father pegged, not your mother."
"Thank Kelly."
"I already have," Lorenzo said in a tone filled with admiration. "That's quite a girl you have there, John. I don’t think there are many people - men or women – that would have had the wits or the ability to have done what she did."
"Yes," John agreed.
"Anyway, I'll be there in ten."
"Thank you."
Sure enough, Lorenzo walked in about ten minutes later, bringing John an expensive bottle of Scotch.
John laughed. "What, no flowers?"
<
br /> "Sorry buddy, but you're a man," Lorenzo said.
Lorenzo's eyes brightened when he saw Kelly, and he gave her little hug of greeting. They exchanged a few words, but then she left them alone. Lorenzo and Kelly had already spoken this morning, and he had taken her statement the day after the fire. The nursing staff was funny about only one visitor at a time with John, because they didn’t want to exhaust him.
"So," Lorenzo said after Kelly left. "I guess your old man decided to take the garbage out. Finally the asshole did something right."
John chuckled and told Lorenzo about the courier, and how it was John's letter that helped his father decide to take the easy way out. He also made Lorenzo laugh concerning his philosophy that if one wanted to win, it was best to kick a man while they were down.
Giving a low, appreciative whistle Lorenzo said, "Judge Taylor. What a chicken shit bastard with his basement torture chamber, the disgusting pictures, and illegal porn. Yech. They are dropping everything, hiding the truth, and closing the case. I think the PR line will be he committed suicide from grief over the mental breakdown and death of his wife. If they let out the information about the Judge's kinky crimes, then every case he sat would have to be questioned and perhaps reopened."
"Excellent," John said. "You know, for a while there I studied the cases he presided over. I honestly think he was a fair judge. Isn't that strange? If he wasn't, I suppose I may have been compelled to risk my own safety to stop him sooner. It just shows that no one is all bad all the time. Hitler was Time's "Man of The Year" in 1938. He invented freeways, did you know that? President Eisenhower copied him after he saw the autobahn."
Lorenzo snorted. "Jeez you are full of some serious bullshit, John. You're fast making my list of people I would take on a boat with me when the ship is sinking, simply so I wouldn't be bored."
"I'd consider taking you, too."
"Gee, thanks! So enthusiastic. By the way, you may be interested to know that my partner Lucille is pretty quiet. Being wrong in a big way has done her some good."
"That is the business I want to discuss."
"Oh?" Lorenzo's eyebrows raised at that.
