Mystery and Crime Fiction posted October 3, 2016 Chapters: -1- 2... 

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She's back and she's looking for revenge.

A chapter in the book Bittersweet Revenge

Bittersweet Revenge

by Mistydawn

The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.

Max double checks the locks before heading to bed. It seems so strange with his girl's away from home tonight. Bonnie, his beautiful wife of fourteen years and his two daughters are at a ballet in Fayetteville.

He normally wouldn't allow such a trip on a school night, but this is a special occasion. Both girls ranked top in their ballet class, and as a reward, they're allowed to participate in a stage performance of the Nutcracker.

Closing his eyes, Max imagines his two beautiful girls elegantly gliding across the stage floor. "That's my girls," he whispers, drifting off into a deep peaceful sleep.


She sits quietly under the glow of the bright moonlight, little creatures are scurrying all around her, giving the woods a sense that potential danger is lurking nearby. This is a familiar feeling since she spent most of her childhood living on the streets.

She doesn't blame her mama for her horrifying childhood. All the beatings, hunger, the vile sex acts she had to perform. No, that's all Max's fault. He's the one who refused to help them when they desperately needed it. Her poor mama tried to get Max's assistance, begging him on her old arthritic knees. Max made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to help no matter what she said, or did.

"All of that's about to change. Because tonight I'm going to make sure you pay the ultimate price for your neglect. You're going to pay with your life."

Looking at her watch, she realizes it's been nearly an hour since Max turned off the lights. Jumping up, she brushes the soil off her clothes. "This's the moment I've been waiting for my entire life."

She excitedly maneuvers her way towards Max's house. Prying the back door open, she slides into the mudroom. So far so good. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she creeps along the edge of the wall. She sees a small table lamp dimly lighting her way when she glances towards the balcony. Taking another deep breath, she cautiously creeps up the old wooden stairs. She's midway to the top when a loose board creaks beneath her feet. Frightened, she moves into the shadows and waits. Once she's satisfied that she didn't disturb him, she climbs the remaining steps.

I'm almost there. She gingerly continues down the long, narrow hallway. I have to be careful, she reminds herself, stepping inside his bedroom door. Taking a deep breath for courage, she carefully walks toward his bed.

She sees Max sleeping peacefully in the bright moonlight. The tranquil image angers her. All her inner turmoil boils to the surface then volcanically erupts. "How dare you sleep so peaceful, so serene, like nothing is wrong." Pulling out a knife, she brings it down hard and quick into Max's bare torso. She feels an immediate release of tension, and anxiety as the knife plunges into his flesh. 

Max is woken by pain surging through his body. Looking up, he sees a tall, thin figure standing over him, a bloody knife raised above their head. Max reaches up and pushes the intruder away.  Max spings out of bed. The covers tangle around his feet hurling him to the floor.

Jumping on top of him, the burglar thrusts her knife deep into his back. "Die bastard, die," she screams, bringing it down again.

Cringing from the pain, Max fumbles under the bed hoping to find something that'd suffice as a weapon. Feeling something cold and hard hit his fingertips, he scoops it up. In one swift motion, he lifts up his dumbells and smashes it into the offender's skull. The individual collapses beside him. Reaching for their nightstand, Max painfully pulls himself up to a standing position. The flimsy table topples over, he grabs an antique chair for support. Max sees his invader unconscious on the floor when he glances back. I have to get out of here. He's hobbling down the hallway when he hears moaning behind him. Max turns to sees the intruder moving around. Grabbing the banister for support, he works his way down the steps.

"Come on, come on, let me out, let me out," he yells, trying to unlock the front door. Throwing the barrier open, he stumbles to the back of their house.

"Go get em, boys," Max commands, opening the metal gate. The two large creatures start barking as they dash towards the front yard.

He remembers their emergency phone in the cellar, Max hobbles across their yard. I'm going to take care of you one way or another. Pulling the wooden door open, he works his way down the dark concrete steps. He feels himself weakening with every passing second. I can do this. Halfway down, his knees buckle underneath him, Max clings to the banister. Just a little further.  Max tries to take another step when his legs give out. Max's bloody body tumbles to the cold dank floor.

Realizing her victim has escaped, the intruder dashes after him. Blood is oozing down the side of her head as she runs out the front door. The crisp wind blows against her wet face as coyotes howl in the distance. Shivering, she continues to search the yard. The clouds move away from the moon, making it easier to see. That's much better. She notices a trail of blood when she glances down. You can't hide from me, Max. Smiling, she follows the liquid mass to the side of the house. She just rounded the corner when she's met by four glowing red eyes.

"Oh my God, it's the dogs," she yells, running towards the woods. Looking back, she realizes the mutts are right behind her. Frightened, she picks up speed. The invader feels the dog's sharp fangs brush against her pant leg, she screams. Grabbing a low hanging tree limb, she hoists herself up. The largest dog clamps down on her leg as it swings through the air. Using her other foot, she kicks him loose then pulls herself up to safety.

Slowly regaining consciousness, Max looks around. Why am I down here? The night's horrifying events suddenly come to mind. He then notices the pool of red liquid that surrounds him. I need to get help before I bleed to death. Max tries to stand but soon discovers that his legs are too weak to support him. Getting on his hands and knees, he sluggishly crawls across the floor. His pain intensifies with every movement. "I have to do this, for Bonnie and the girls' sake." Gritting his teeth, Max pushes himself a little further. His frail body completely gives out, Max collapses on the floor.

"Please God, please help them find me before it's too late," he cries, lying helplessly on the cold damp floor.

Jerry is busy organizing papers that are scattered across his desk. The commotion from the squad room continues all around him.

Glancing around, he sees some officers typing their reports while others are talking to victims. Never a dull moment around this place, he concludes getting back to the task at hand. Jerry has been a cop for nearly ten years, a detective for a little over six.

"I can't understand how my workstation gets so cluttered with just one case." Scooping up a handful of candy wrappers he throws them in the trash. "Well, part of it I can."

Joe, his partner laughs. He's been a detective with this department for nearly fifteen years. He was promoted to Sergeant just last year.

Jerry glances over at his partner's tidy desk. "How do you keep everything so neat?"

"Organization, Jerry, organization." He chuckles.

Jerry is finishing his housekeeping when the phone rings. "Let the fun begin."

"Yeah, fun." Joe reaches for the noisy device. "Berryville Police Department, Sergeant Bower speaking." He puts the phone on speaker.

"Joe, it's Bonnie Webb. I tried calling my husband last night and again when I woke up this morning but he's not answering our home phone, or his cell," she anxiously blurts into the phone. Being a prosecutor's wife for so long, she knows how dangerous his job can be.

"Maybe he's overslept, Mrs. Webb." Bonnie used to take care of him when he was a child.
"I know him, Joe, he never sleeps past seven."

"I'll have my partner check on him." He glances over at Jerry.

Nodding, Jerry grabs his equipment off his desk.

"Have Max call me as soon as he gets there, alright?" He looks at his partner, Jerry nods again.

"He will."


Jerry's pulls up to the Webb's Victorian home a few minutes later. Shutting off his car, Jerry glances around. He first notices their gate hanging sideways on a single hinge. He then notices a trail of reddish-brown substance in the dirt. It starts at the busted gate and continues down their drive. "What in the world happened here?" Grabbing his Glock from his holster, he dashes towards the house.

"Is anyone home? Mr. Webb are you here?" There's no answer. The detective cautiously makes his way through the large house. He sees their TV on the entertainment center, a laptop on their kitchen table. It wasn't a robbery, he concludes as he continues to make his rounds. He notices a trail of what looks to be dried blood leading up the stairs. With his gun pointed outward, he slowly follows the stain down the long narrow hall.

"Berryville PD, call out." The house remains eerily silent.

"Mr. Web, Sir?" he questions, stepping through the far bedroom door. He sees bedding crinkled up on the carpet, the end table tipped on its side, broken pictures and other small items are scattered all around it. Quickly checking the rest of their house, Jerry runs out to the porch. Where are you, Max? he asks, anxiously surveying their yard.


The sirens screeching in the distance reminds her of the intense battle she had with Max. "That encounter was more of a rush than I could've ever dreamed of." She remembers how good it felt to finally get her revenge. How she watched the blood gush out of his body as she stabed him over and over again. "I wish I could've watched him suffer to his death, the way I'd planned. I guess there's always the next one." Laughing, she walks out her door.

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