Sweet Revenge

He had it coming to him.

Standing over his body, she repeats the words over and over.  The shovel gets heavier in her hands with each deep breath she takes.  The blood drips off the end into a growing puddle on the ground.

He had it coming to him.

A wave of nausea overcomes her as she stares at his crushed face.  She crumples in a heap to the dirt, the evening’s events flashing before her eyes.

A flat tire.

The long walk to the house at the end of the road.

He had opened the door with a smile.

A scream begins to boil from deep within her.  She suppresses it with the last bit of energy she has.  Someone could hear her.  She stands slowly and stares at his lifeless body.  With a sigh, she picks up the shovel and starts to dig.

—One Hour Earlier—

The door opens wide, revealing a large man in overalls with an even bigger smile.

“Oh, thank God!  I didn’t know if I’d ever find anyone!”

“What’s wrong, sweet dear?”  His southern drawl makes her feel safe and she finds herself accepting his open arm invitation to come inside.

“I’m sorry to come by so late, sir, but I have a flat tire and no spare.  Could I use your phone?”

“Of course!  It’s in the kitchen.  Down the hall and to the right.  Help yourself!”

“You’re a lifesaver!  I won’t take long, I promise!  Thank you!”  She walks eagerly down the hall, ready to have this night behind her.

He moves slowly to the family room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards.  He can’t believe his luck!  The urge had been coming on for days now and the universe just dumps this sweet little thing on his front porch.  He knows what he has to do.  It’s been too long.

He hears her on the phone with the tow company.  He must hurry.  Pulling the box out from the cupboard, he selects his favorite knife and moves slowly toward the kitchen. Her back is to him as he moves in for the kill.  Her skin is like ivory.  He can’t wait to be with her.

She senses him behind him and turns, gun raised.  The look in his eyes is everything she had hoped.  The knife in his hand distracts her for a millisecond but it’s all he needs.  He lunges at her, cutting deep into her left arm.  The gun explodes in the tiny kitchen, deafening them both as he howls with pain.  They scramble for their weapons and stand.  His mind contemplates the scene and his bloody leg.  This is it and he knows it.

Her finger shakes on the trigger and she smiles a menacing grin.

“This is for Abby, you asshole!”

His eyes widen as everything falls into place.

The sister.

Before she can act, he takes off, racing out the back door and into the gardens behind the house.  She fires, missing wide left.

Dammit!

“You won’t get far, you prick!”

She steps outside, searching for movement.  The full moon hanging high above works in her favor.  She sees him in the distance, not even trying to hide, hobbling over pumpkins in the field.

Here we go.

She sees the shovel leaning against the house and smiles as she picks it up.  She races after him, the pain in her arm a distant memory.  With every step, she gains on him.  5 paces.  4.  3.  2.  At the last second, he turns, the shovel smashing into his face.  He hits the ground with a thud as blood and teeth fly through the air.  She peels the shovel back from his face to hit him again, suddenly realizing there is no need.

The reality sets in.  He’s dead.  She actually did it.

He had it coming to him.

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Come get spooky at the Speakeasy!