Page 50 of Peep

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. Well, this dish is stale. It’s been left out on the side to fester, growing all kinds of deadly bacteria. He won’t see me coming. He’s probably forgotten I exist and what he stole from me that night—my dignity, my career, parts of my soul.

His comeuppance was always inevitable. I’ve fed others their need for revenge; now it’s my time to feast. Will it leave me sated? I have no idea. But I’m sure it will taste delicious.

There he is, handsome and confident as ever, talking to a petite blond. He’s a sordid bastard hidden behind an armour of charm.

I watch on as my rapist flirts with the man, overly touchy and a blinding smile that could trick almost anyone. He’s like a shapeshifter able to transform into whatever he needs to keep people in line.

Swallowing the sick that’s trying to climb up my throat at the very sight of him, my damp hands flex around the leather steering wheel.

My initial plan was to grab him here. The car park is usually dead at this hour, but with a potential witness, it’s too much of a risk.

He finishes his conversation, darts across the carpark and climbs into his BMW. I tail behind him, keeping a reasonable distance. I’ve changed my car since I last saw him, and I use fake magnetic plates when I’m on a job, so he’ll never know it’s me.

My heart pummels my ribs as we come to a traffic light. He looks into his rearview mirror, and I adjust my cap, hiding my face.Nice try, fucker.

Ten minutes later, we approach a desirable housing estate full of detached homes with vibrant grass covering their front gardens. I wouldn’t expect him to live anywhere less.

The street is desolate, with only a few houses with dim lights on. It’s reckless kidnapping him in such a privileged area. People with money tend to have twitchy curtains and door cams, but taking him from work wasn’t an option either. It’s now or never.

He pulls into his drive, and I follow him, parking just outside his house. He knows I’m here because he hesitates to leave his car.

As soon as he gets out, I jump out too and walk behind my car, unlocking the boot. I’m dressed head to toe in black, with mycap drawn low, medical mask, and fake glasses. I’ve also piled on twenty pounds of muscle since he last saw me.

“Excuse me, you can’t park here,” he complains, approaching my car.

I bend down, pretending to prod at the tyre.

“Oh, are you having car trouble?” he questions.

“Yes, flat tyre, I think,” I purposely soften my voice.

“Ah, unlucky.” He stalls, but I need him a little closer.

“You don’t mind checking for me? I’m useless at this stuff.”

“Erm, sure, ok.”

He puffs out his shoulders and closes the distance between us, and I step back so he can check.

“So, do you live around here?”

As he crouches, I come up behind him, jabbing the needle into his neck. His head flies up as he tumbles to his knees, smacking his head on the side of my car. He climbs to his feet on unsteady legs.

“What the fuck was that!” His eyes dart to me; I keep my chin down.

“What the—” he slurs, stumbling forward. “What the hell did you give me?” His next step sends him to the curb, legs buckling like a newborn fawn trying to find its feet.

Hands splayed on the ground, he weakly attempts to push himself up, but I slam my foot into the centre of his back, forcing his face into the dirt.

He mumbles incoherent insults as I shove the car boot open and remove the trunk, ready to stuff him inside and transport him to Emeralds. The smile behind my mask doubles in size as fear clouds his fluttering eyes. When he slips into unconsciousness, calmness washes over me.

Time to permanently scar this repulsive man—just like he scarred me.

As I prepare my patient, aka rapist, for life-changing surgery, adrenaline pulses through me along with painful memories. Over the years, I’d shoved them so far down they’re almost undetectable. Still, in this moment, I dig deep and excavate the darkest parts of my humanity so I can complete the task at hand. Like a movie, that dreadful night from three years ago plays on repeat.

“Do you mind shutting the door?” he asks in an uncharacteristically soft tone I see right through.

I tentatively turn back and close the door, nerves dancing in the pit of my stomach.

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