Excellent She's back and she's looking for revenge. Bittersweet Revenge : Bittersweet Revenge by Mistydawn

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. She sits quietly under the glow of the bright moonlight, little creatures are scurrying all around her. This gives the woods a sense of potential danger lurking nearby; a familiar feeling, spending most of her childhood on the streets. She doesn't blame her mama for her horrid childhood. All the beatings, her hunger, the vile sex acts she was forced to perform. No, it's all Max's fault. He's the one who refused to help them when they so desperately needed it. All of that's about to change. Because tonight you're going to pay the ultimate price for your neglect, you're going to pay with your life.  She realizes it's been nearly an hour since Max turned off the lights when she glances towards her watch. Jumping up, she brushes the soil from her clothes. I've been waiting for this moment for what seems like an eternity. She recalls numerous nights she lay awake dreaming of her revenge. Her stomach quivers with excitement as she works her way towards the house.  Prying the back door open, she slides her tall, lanky body inside. So far so good. Taking a deep breath for courage, she creeps along the edge of the wall. The house seems unusually quiet, which adds to her unnerving feel. She shakes the tension from her body and then continues on. She'd just reached the bottom of the stairs when the wind slams the screen door too: she jumps as she spins around. I can do this. Regaining her composure she creeps up the old wooden stairs. Midway up a loose floorboard creaks underneath her. Frightened, she darts into the shadows and waits. She hears Max moan as he rolls around in bed; I might've just blown my chance. She nervously glances towards the door and then his bedroom again. His sheets move one last time, Max starts snoring again.  That was close. She gingerly continues down the long, narrow passage to the bedroom door. She sees Max sleeping peacefully under the bright moonlight; a smile across his face. Her childhood trauma replays in her mind causing her inner turmoil to boil. It's all your fault, all your fault.  Pulling a knife from her pocket, she thrusts her weapon into Max's bare chest. She feels an immediate release of emotions as the knife plunges deep into his skin. She lifts the weapon above her head and rams the blade in again.  Max is woken by a sharp, sudden pain surging through his upper torso. He looks up to see a gangly figure over top him, a bloody knife raised above their head. Pushing the intruder away, Max springs up from his bed. The covers tangle around his feet, he plummets to the floor.  Jumping on top of him, the burglar thrusts her blade deep into his back. "Die bastard, die," she screams, as she brings the weapon down again. Max searches for some type of weapon. Seeing Bonnie's barbell a few feet away, he reaches for it. His fingertips graze the edge. He scoots himself closer and tries again; the knife plunges deep into his back. Max secures the weapon in his hand as he cringes from the pain, He swings the weight up, over his head, making contact with the offender's skull. The individual collapses on top of him. I have to get out of here. Pulling himself up, Max hobbles towards the door. He's halfway down the hall when the intruder moans behind him. He turns to see the intruder moving around. I need to hurry. He uses the banister as support to work his way down the steps. "Come on, let me out, let me out," he yells, as he tries to unlock the front door. He looks up to see a shadow, staggering down the hall. Throwing the barrier open, he stumbles towards 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 of the house. They'll keep her confined until the police get here, he thinks as he heads towards their emergency phone in the cellar. Blood continues to pour from his wounds.  Pulling the wooden door open, he works his way down the dark concrete steps. He feels himself getting weaker with every passing second. I can do this. His knees buckle underneath him, Max clings to the banister for support. Just a little further.  Max tries to take another step; his legs give out, his bloody body tumbles to the cold dank floor. *** Realizing her victim has escaped, the intruder dashes after him. Blood continues to ooze from her head as she works her way down the stairs. Wiping the liquid away, she dashes to the edge of the porch. A crisp northern wind blows against her wet skin giving her a chill. Shivering, she continues to search for her prey. He couldn't have gotten far. She notices a trail of blood leading from the steps towards the back of the house. You can't hide from me. Smiling, she follows the liquid mass. She just rounds the corner when she spots four glowing red eyes.  "It's the dogs." She makes a mad dash towards the woods. The dog's sharp fangs brush against her leg, she screams. Grabbing a low hanging limb, she hoists herself up. The largest dog clamps onto her leg as it swings through the air. She kicks him loose with her opposite foot, then pulls herself up to safety; the dogs start barking frantically below her.  *** Max slowly opens his eyes and glances around. Why am I down here? He tries to lift himself up, pain surges through his body; he collapses on the floor. What happened to me? The night's horrific events suddenly come to mind. He then notices the pool of red liquid that surrounds him. I need to call for help before I die. Max tries to stand but soon discovers his legs are too weak to hold him. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawls across the floor. His pain increases with every movement. Gritting his teeth, Max pushes himself further. His battered body gives out, Max tumbles to the floor. "Please God, please help them find me before it's too late," he cries. *** Jerry is busy organizing the pile of papers scattered across his desk; the commotion from the squad room continues all around him. He glances around to find some officers typing their reports while others are talking to victims. Never a dull moment in 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." He scoops up a handful of candy wrappers and then tosses them in the trash. "Well, part of it I can." His partner laughs. Joe's been a detective for nearly fifteen years. He was promoted to sergeant the end of last year. Jerry glances over at his partner's tidy desk. "How do you keep your desk so clean?" "Organization, Jerry, organization." He chuckles. "Guess you better teach me some of those skills." Jerry is finishing up when the phone rings. "Let the fun begin." "Yeah, fun." Joe reaches for the noisy device. "Berryville Police Department, Sergeant Bower." He puts the phone on speaker. "Joe, it's Bonnie Webb. I tried calling my husband last night and again when I woke up, but he's not answering our home phone, or his cell," she anxiously blurts out." Being a prosecutor's wife, she knows how dangerous his job can be. "Maybe he's overslept, Mrs. Webb."  "I know him, Joe, he never sleeps past seven even on his days off." "I'll have my partner check on him." He glances over at Jerry. He nods as he grabs his phone from his desk. "Have Max call me as soon as he gets there." Joe looks over at his partner, Jerry nods again. "He will." **** Jerry's pulls up to the Webb's Victorian a few minutes later. Shutting off his car, Jerry glances around. He first notices their gate hanging sideways. He then notices a trail of reddish-brown substance in the dirt. It starts at the busted gate and continues down their drive. "It looks like a massacre." He grabs his Glock from his holster as he dashes towards the house. "Is anyone home? Mr. Webb are you here?" No one answers. The detective cautiously makes his way through the house. He sees their TV in 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 path down the hall. "Mr. Web, Sir?" he questions, stepping through the far bedroom door. He sees bedding on the carpet, the end table tipped on its side, broken pictures and other small items are scattered all around it. He then notices a puddle of dried blood in the center. After checking the rest of the house for a victim, Jerry hurries to the porch. "Where are you, Max?" he asks, as he anxiously surveys their yard. **** The sirens screeching in the distance reminds her of the intense battle she had with Max. "My encounter was better than what I could've ever imagined." She remembers how good it felt to finally get her revenge. "I wish I could've watched him suffer to his death the way I'd originally planned. I guess there's always the next one." Laughing, she heads out her door.

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