Quite the Conundrum
The ***er
Blood, red and flowing as it stained the ground. The redness spread everywhere as she gleefully grinned. It was hard to believe that the human body could hold so much blood, but she wasn't all that surprised. This was the first time. The first time she'd torn her soul and commit the highest of crimes, but it wasn't like the man who'd once inhabited the body strewn out before her had been innocent. Maybe he seemed like the perfect man, with a perfect job, perfect home, perfect family; but in all reality he was a monster. That was the worst kind of person in her opinion, the kind that masqueraded around the world pretending to be a saint but in the dark of the night he would creep out and wreak havoc. It was almost ironic, she would have never even known about this man if he wasn't such a sick son of a bitch.
A month ago she'd gone out for drinks with her younger sister who had just graduated from college. Sure, they'd dressed a little provocatively, but that never meant that they were asking for it. In all reality they hadn't gone out to get too drunk, really they just wanted to dance and be told they were pretty and celebrate a little. The two blue eyed blondes had no intention of bringing a man home that night but sometimes, things don't always turn out the way you want them to. They had just left the club and were walking toward the train station in the quiet San Francisco streets, trying to get back to Oakland. Upon arrival the younger sister went inside to purchase tickets for the train while the elder stood near the street, fishing a cigarette out of her purse. That was when he approached her, knife in hand, and assaulted her. She wasn't asking for it, as she cried beneath him after he'd torn her clothes and thrown her to the ground. She wasn't asking for it when he broke her wrist while holding it down. She didn't ask for it when he left her in the street, bleeding and broken. So it was fair to say, when she went after for him earlier tonight he probably wasn't asking for it.
She went to the police that night, after hobbling on to the train to go across the Bay and getting into Oakland she walked for what felt like miles on the broken heel of her left shoe, her sister supporting her the whole way. When she arrived they took her statement and police went to look for him. Eventually they managed to find him and bring him in. They hit him with a few charges and released him on bail, that his apparently perfect wife had posted, in the morning, but he was the man, she knew his face instantly when they put her in front of the line up. That was how she had tracked him down so easily tonight. She'd seen him as she sat at the table in the diner with her fiance. He was sitting across from her scanning the menu for something he thought she might actually eat in her mostly catatonic state when suddenly anger flashed in her eyes and she snatched up her purse before walking out of the restaurant, leaving him in stunned silence. He was too slow to follow her because by the time he'd dropped enough money on the table for the drinks, gathered his jacket and went out the door she was nowhere to be seen. But she had seen him, as he walked down the street talking on his phone like nothing had ever happened, he'd never even gone to jail; hell he'd never even been to trial. He'd gotten off on a plea deal with a fine and a couple hundred hours of community service because the judge thought that she'd been asking for it. Ever since she'd taken to carrying a knife in her purse, just in case. And tonight she saw him and a plan formulated in her head as she dug the knife out and followed him. His night was slow, he went to a bar and drank a few beers before eleven o'clock rolled around and he left the bar, following a girl to the train station. That's when she figured out that he was a sick son of a bitch.
He was pulling the same shit on some other poor girl that he'd pulled on her, and well she wasn't going to stand for it. She came up to him just as he got on top of the other blonde had thrown to the ground and was beginning to tear at her clothes. She stood directly behind him, knife in hand and she bent down and without a second thought she pulled the blade straight across his throat, watching with glee as the blood poured from his body and onto the ground.
It wasn't until he actually stopped bleeding that she realized the girl was still trapped below him, and screaming.
A month ago she'd gone out for drinks with her younger sister who had just graduated from college. Sure, they'd dressed a little provocatively, but that never meant that they were asking for it. In all reality they hadn't gone out to get too drunk, really they just wanted to dance and be told they were pretty and celebrate a little. The two blue eyed blondes had no intention of bringing a man home that night but sometimes, things don't always turn out the way you want them to. They had just left the club and were walking toward the train station in the quiet San Francisco streets, trying to get back to Oakland. Upon arrival the younger sister went inside to purchase tickets for the train while the elder stood near the street, fishing a cigarette out of her purse. That was when he approached her, knife in hand, and assaulted her. She wasn't asking for it, as she cried beneath him after he'd torn her clothes and thrown her to the ground. She wasn't asking for it when he broke her wrist while holding it down. She didn't ask for it when he left her in the street, bleeding and broken. So it was fair to say, when she went after for him earlier tonight he probably wasn't asking for it.
She went to the police that night, after hobbling on to the train to go across the Bay and getting into Oakland she walked for what felt like miles on the broken heel of her left shoe, her sister supporting her the whole way. When she arrived they took her statement and police went to look for him. Eventually they managed to find him and bring him in. They hit him with a few charges and released him on bail, that his apparently perfect wife had posted, in the morning, but he was the man, she knew his face instantly when they put her in front of the line up. That was how she had tracked him down so easily tonight. She'd seen him as she sat at the table in the diner with her fiance. He was sitting across from her scanning the menu for something he thought she might actually eat in her mostly catatonic state when suddenly anger flashed in her eyes and she snatched up her purse before walking out of the restaurant, leaving him in stunned silence. He was too slow to follow her because by the time he'd dropped enough money on the table for the drinks, gathered his jacket and went out the door she was nowhere to be seen. But she had seen him, as he walked down the street talking on his phone like nothing had ever happened, he'd never even gone to jail; hell he'd never even been to trial. He'd gotten off on a plea deal with a fine and a couple hundred hours of community service because the judge thought that she'd been asking for it. Ever since she'd taken to carrying a knife in her purse, just in case. And tonight she saw him and a plan formulated in her head as she dug the knife out and followed him. His night was slow, he went to a bar and drank a few beers before eleven o'clock rolled around and he left the bar, following a girl to the train station. That's when she figured out that he was a sick son of a bitch.
He was pulling the same shit on some other poor girl that he'd pulled on her, and well she wasn't going to stand for it. She came up to him just as he got on top of the other blonde had thrown to the ground and was beginning to tear at her clothes. She stood directly behind him, knife in hand and she bent down and without a second thought she pulled the blade straight across his throat, watching with glee as the blood poured from his body and onto the ground.
It wasn't until he actually stopped bleeding that she realized the girl was still trapped below him, and screaming.