Page 4 of Collateral Damage

I swear I've not slept since I was discharged. Four years of searching for a needle in a haystack and boy was he a small ass fucking needle. The little bitch ran, as I suspected. Being part of the Chicago police department still had perks for him, they removed all traces of him to save his ass thinking that would keep him hidden. What aclown. Moved his entire life two states away to run from his guilt. Well his guilt caught up. I'm hisguilt. Walking, breathing fucking guilt. And I'm ten minutes away from releasing eleven years of regret, eleven years of pain, eleven years of anger into his mother fucking skull. I've been thinking about what she'd say if she saw me now and honestly? I think she'd tell me to let it go. But this is all I have left. I will rest with you soon Mom.Just let me do this for you.

This son of a bitch is out here living the life kids like me could only ever dream of. This house is bigger than my entire fucking hometown. He sucked up that money once he won his shitty self-defence bullshit in court I bet. It’s embarrassing to know what a naive and gullible world we live in, and I wish to be no fucking part of it once this is over.

Indiana is definitely a sight when you have lived in a shacked up broken bungalow and behind bars for the best part of your life. You forget how beautiful nature can be. That is when it hasn't been tampered with by the cunts around us who wanna turn the world into a concrete jungle. The law and power is an ugly place. They will do anything to keep their act up, even if it means locking up a teenager who simply murdered to survive…

OK. Was it self-defence? Yes. But. Did it kind of feel good? Also yes… Was it involuntary?Who knows.

Not that prison scared me much anyway. Prison was like LaLa land compared to the Devil I gutted. I'll admit, it wasn't the vacation I was hoping for, but it taught me a lot.

Likehow to kill someone and not get caught this time.

It wasn't exactly easy, and I earned a few scars I'll never forget but I made it out alive and that was the main goal. Although I bet he's been keeping tabs on me. He knows I'm out, but I've kept a low profile to give him the illusion I've no interest in him. Little does he know I'm finally parked right outside his pretty little farmhouse, not that he made that any easier either. The entire house was smothered in surveillance cameras.Guilty conscience much? It's a good job computer tech is my favourite subject otherwise this would’ve proven to have been a little more difficult.

I know he has a wife, and as much as I am a Mommy's girl at heart; I'm afraid I cannot keep her breathing, as gorgeous as she is, so there's no harm in toying with her a little before I remove her too.I'm doing the bitch a favour anyway, she's too good forhim. Not that I've gotten close and personal with her but from a distance she's a looker, and far too intelligent for the likes of him. Dude couldn't even solve a case without murdering the wrong suspect whilst she’s out here saving lives.

Speaking of the Devil. He's still awake. I best get this over with. He's made this rather easy for me. Fucker thought moving out into the sticks was going to help him yet it's made this whole process so much cleaner. No witnesses. No busy streets. No street cameras. No nothing. He's exposed and vulnerable, and he's too dumb to realise his cameras are out.He's gotten too comfortable, which is exactly what I wanted. But I'm the Clown, right? Damn right I fucking am. I wear it with pride. This face mask is my new purpose. I want him to fucking see me as I shoot him between the eyes though, so I left the face paint off for now.

I turn the key to the ignition, killing the engine. Stolen of course, it's a shame to dispose of it. I've grown a liking to this beast, but evidence is evidence, no matter how beautiful it may seem. Haltering myself from the driver seat, I clip the door to make sure I don't alarm anyone, not that it would. You'd think the dumb cunt would at least have canines or something, but he doesn't which speeds up this process. Dogs are far more reliable than technology these days.

I make my way round to the back of the building where I had already tampered with their locks to give me access. Slipping into the kitchen, I lock it as quietly as I can so there is no means of escape. An island sits in the middle of the room obstructing my way towards the living room where the TV is still blaring.Perfect. They won’t hear me coming. A horror movie.How ironic…

Creeping my way across the tiled floor I pull out my Glock from the back of my jeans, gripping the handle in my thick leather gloves. It’s dark, but luckily there are enough windows to leak in natural light. The warm glows illuminate from the roomin front of me where I peek to see his wife sitting comfortably slumped in the sofa, completely oblivious to the infiltrator who is approaching her from behind. He’s in his office, most likely checking up on my previous hit and run. Detectives have been all over it but found no evidence. I finally gave the judge a little visit, stabbed him a few times. Ok, a few is an understatement, a lot, before leaving a precious little smile across his face, then hung him up for the entirety of the town to see from the courthouse and fuck did it feel good. The look on his face was priceless, not that it relieved me of much pent-up anger, but the fucker had it coming. I’m not the only one who’s been objectified by his sexist nature, I’m sure people were relieved to see him gone.

I step slowly out from behind the kitchen door, treading carefully trying not to be too heavy on my boots as I grip my gun by my stomach aiming at the floor, closing in on the sweet smell of lavender and freshly washed hair. She doesn’t deserve this, but neither did I. Neither didshe.I’m going to make him feel my pain as I strip him of the only thing he has. I reach out my arm, extending the barrel of my pistol until it sits gently on the back of her skull before pulling it back to reset the trigger making it click, peaking her fight or flight. She’s being such agood girlstaying quiet for me, this makes it all the more enjoyable to toy with the both of them. I was half expecting her to scream but she hasn’t, her breathing has just quickened underneath the muffled cries coming from the TV in front of her. I lean in slowly, pressing the tip of the gun harder into her head as I creep in towards her soft cartilage.

“Would you like to star in a Horror movie Mrs. Blackthorne?... Because you are about to be all over the news...” I watch her body jolt as she trembles beneath me, fighting to keep tears in, wanting so desperately to call out but she is no idiot, she knows that would be avery, stupid idea.

“Get up. Slowly.” She does as I say, cautiously pushing herself off the sofa with her hands in the air.She’s definitely a sub in the bedroom. Maybe I was wrong about her. Where's the spunk?

I shuffle around the settee, my gun still firmly aimed at her as I walk in behind her frame, grabbing her forearm to secure her against my torso. She’s shaking like a little puppy.

“Don’t take this personally,” a tiny squeal escapes her mouth, thinning her lips as she sucks them in, squinting her eyes firmly shut as the barrel rubs against her temple.

“Call him in. Calmly.” She nods sporadically before using her words to entice her loved one to walk into his grave with her.And people say romance is dead?

“Honey. Can you come here? Please.” There is a subtle quiver in her pleading as she abruptly throws it on the end. It pains me that she is a part of this. We will see how this goes. Maybe I can spare her.

“One minute darling!” Hearing his voice sends me all sorts of crazy. It grinds against my broken bones, penetrating the open wounds that have never stopped bleeding. Suddenly, my rational thinking is smothered with a red blanket and all I can hear is the beating in my chest cavity. That undeniable ache thumping against my rib cage, pleading to be let out. She is being far too calm considering the circumstances. I let go of her gently, reaching to pull out some duct tape from my back pocket, hovering it in front of her chest still looping my finger through the centre.

“Pull it.” She hesitates, lifting her hands to peel the tape away from its roll as I lean in, pulling the bottom portion of my mask up to bite off the access, taking the departed piece and plastering it over her mouth causing the roll to thud on the wooden floor boards underneath us. I can hear him shuffling papers around as his chair scrapes against the varnished floorboards and I'm practically ringing with euphoria. I’ve embraced the darkestparts of me by now.I’m sick, twisted,and hell bent on spilling blood. They should never have let me out and in many ways, I see my father in me, which makes my blood run cold and nausea sit on the back of my tongue. Yet I can't seem to escape this hunger for revenge.I’m broken, rotten, lost.But he created this.Hemade me who I am. I guess it’s genetics. I was doomed the day I was conceived. Now I am just being the person he always said I'd be. A fucking CLOWN… A ludicrous circus act of attempted humour. Putting on a show for people only to laugh AT me. The abuse I endured for simply being different really fed me my new identity. Now I've lived and breathed to put on a mind-blowing show,and this is my final act.

The office door creaks open from the corridor beyond the living room and his footsteps make their way towards us. I cannot deny the cheshire cat grin plastering my face underneath this mask to mirror the one painted on it. He is now standing ten feet in front of me and the horror in his eyes is my favourite part of this movie. He freezes like a deer in headlights, gripping the wall for stability as he almost stumbled from halting so abruptly and my smirk is disgusting.What’s his move now?I’ve waited eleven years for this exact moment. I’ve dreamt about it, day in and day out and it’s finally sitting at the barrel of my gun.This is so ironically beautiful…I hope he can see the art behind this.

The barrel tickles her skin, gliding down her soft cheeks to meet the opening of her pyjama shirt. Popping open the buttons as the metal tugs on it to expose her chest to me. She’s lucky I am not a sick perverted man, but fuck has she got a nice rack. I toy with her breasts, the cold metal of my pistol dancing against the curves of them before I dig it into her chest plate of bone, urging her to move against the pain.

“Turn around.” I whisper down her ear sending the hairs on her neck to stand up as she swivels to face my mask. She has yet to see what I look like, and the look on her face says all I needto know about the way I look. Diabolically terrifying. Her face is soaking wet as she pleads with her eyes, begging without words as I take a step back, both my leather gloves now wrapped firmly around the mag as I aim right for her heart. He has yet to speak.Some hero he is.

“Now, doesn’t this look familiar…” We are staggered across the living room, she is now standing in between us and his head is shaking, bobbing between the back of her head and my eyes beneath the mask. I’m looking at myself, and he is looking at himself.History repeating itself.He really did try to run, but karma always has a way of catching up to you, and now it’s standing before him like a beacon of justice. Only this time, for the right fucking reasons.

“I don’t know what you want from me, but she has no part of this. Please. Let her go!” A shiver coats the length of my spine as his familiar words spill from his disgusting mouth and I cannot help but let a sinister laugh slip.

“That meant fuck all when I said it.” I hiss, spit hitting the back of my mask, his fearful gawk cocks a brow in confusion, and I love watching him try to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Is this some kind of sick Halloween joke?” Is he really suggesting this is a fucking joke right now? I am in two minds to end her life right fucking now. But it will spoil the show. I take a deep breath and recite his words to his beloved wife.

“Move out of the way, or I will not hesitate to shoot you.” That decision now rests on her shoulders. Because there is no escaping the bullet I have with his name on it. He will watch as I did. Watch her use herself as a human shield to protect his sorry ass whilst I take the oxygen from her lungs and seek pleasure from the pain in his eyes. Revenge is a sick form of poetry and can be performed in many ways. I guess this is not the prettiest form, but nothing about me or my life ever has been. I have been exposed to so much ugliness that I'm not even sure what prettyis meant to look like. My mind has been permanently damaged. I’ve been programmed to feed off the abominable, absorb pain and let it drown me, pull me under and fill my lungs. I’ve accepted that I've sunk, and he has been the rock pinning me between the seabed, but even free of it, I will never be able to reach the surface in time. I have accepted there is a ticking time bomb and all I can do is let it fill up my lungs.

My hands are now shaking, reliving this moment is making me spiral. I can feel myself tightening like a rubber band about to release. Remembering the very moment that bullet punctured her heart the way it punctured mine. I was never shot that day, but it damn well feels like it. This ache is a permanent reminder that I should have done more.

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