Revenge - Chapter 29 – Part 1 of 2

Revenge

By Karen Singer

Chapter 29 – Part 1 of 2

Pain.  Aching pain.  Deep, deep aching pain.  Steve had gotten very little sleep all night.  In fact, he was grateful for what sleep he had managed.  He forced himself out of bed and went to the bathroom, where once again he found himself sitting down to pee.  That happened every once in a while, and he had no idea why.  More of that witch’s magic he was sure.  Yet it only happened once in a while.  Why?  Not caring, he tenderly touched his aching penis and balls.  He had kept an ice bag on them for a long time last night, but today they were still swollen horribly.  And they ached something fierce!

He was tempted to take the day off from work, but he finally decided that being miserable at home was no worse than being miserable at work.  Moving far slower than normal, he began getting ready for the day.

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Monica stared at her face in the mirror.  Witchcraft.  She had dreamed about it all night long.  Mostly horrible nightmares.  But the power of it was undeniable.  She had seen that for herself.  Just how powerful was the Sorceress? 

She forced herself away from the mirror and grabbed her purse to head out for work.  She was going to contact the Sorceress again today, but not for anything she was sure the Sorceress wanted to hear from her.  She was going to contact the Sorceress for personal reasons. 

One way or another, despite how hard she had tried otherwise, she had wound up being a victim most of her life.  She was tired of that.  She was through being a victim.  It was why she had shot and killed her husband.  But that hadn’t stopped her from becoming a victim again. 

She wanted what the Sorceress had.  She wanted that power for herself.  And she was willing to do anything to get it.  With that kind of power, she would never be a victim again.  And in case she was, she would have options available to her other than killing.  She wanted to be a sorceress herself…or a witch.  Witch Monica.  She wanted the respect.  She wanted the power.  She wanted…to stop feeling guilty.

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Diane slammed her brakes.  She had almost hit another car!  Her thoughts were way too distracted.  All night long she had thought about that ceremony and what they had done to Steve.  She was still thinking about it.

She was mostly bothered because she really liked Steve.  Yes, he was a major jerk.  Yes, he absolutely deserved every bit of the punishments that were thrown at him.  But that didn’t stop her from still liking him.  She had tried with him last weekend.  She had really tried hard.  She had spent all weekend having fun with him…and making love with him – over and over again.  And Carla had been more than right, he was a dream in bed.  According to Carla, far better than he used to be.

But she wasn’t as pretty as the other women.  She wasn’t as sexy.  She was built like a stick.  Skinny and no curves at all.  Well, hardly.  Not enough to count.  Men didn’t usually come anywhere near her.  And she wanted a man.  Lately, one man in particular.  Maybe he was a jerk.  Maybe he couldn’t be trusted.  But that didn’t stop her from wanting him…especially in bed. 

She had thought that maybe, just maybe, she could get him to like her little kinks.  Maybe he would truly enjoy them.  But evidently not.  He had turned out like all the other men in her life…or not in her life, because she mostly only got to look at them all from afar.  Mostly.  It was only the really desperate ones that she threw herself at, and only because she herself was so desperate for someone to make love to her.  Until Steve. 

But Steve had brought a gun to work yesterday.  Steve had come to work with the intention of killing her.  Even after last weekend.  Steve claimed she was a witch.

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“Steve!  What the hell happened to you?” Mr. Carter exclaimed as he happened to catch a glimpse of the way Steve looked.

How could Steve tell him?  How could he say that he was a victim of witchcraft?  How could he explain that he had beat himself up?  Literally!  “Um…someone attacked me last night,” he finally replied. 

“My God!” Mr. Carter breathed.  “Your face is all bruised and it looks like you got cut too.  And you’re all bent over.”

“Um…yeah, well, they kind of got me in a bad place…you know where…and it still aches like the devil.”

“What did the police say?”

“Um…I didn’t bother calling them.  Someone showed up to help me, and whoever it was ran off.”

“What was it all about?”

Steve shook his head.  “I’m not really sure,” he lied.  “Maybe they were going to rob me.  I don’t know.”

“You were lucky!” Mr. Carter said.  “I’m just surprised you didn’t stay home today.”

Steve shrugged.  “I thought about it, but I decided to come in anyway.”

Mr. Carter nodded with a smile on his face.  Yeah, Steve was doing well lately.  He was even dressing a bit better by wearing a jacket every day.  Obviously he was looking for a raise, or maybe a promotion.  Looking for a chance to move up in the company.  And at the rate he was going, he just might get it.  Maybe soon.

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Dear Sorceress,

First let me tell you that everything went very well last night.  Carla, Diane, and myself were waiting to grab Steve the moment the elevator doors opened last night, and we gave him no chance at all.  But seeing and holding the gun he intended on using against us made it all too real. 

I’ll only tell you that the ceremony went very well last night, but it was the results afterwards that we were all rather surprised by.  I stood in front of Steve and brought the gun in his hand up to my chest myself, and ordered him to kill me.  But instead, he wound up pulling his pants down and nearly shot his own cock off.  Fortunately however, he started beating himself over and over with the handle of the gun.  Rather viciously I’m afraid.  It was frightening.  And for me, very satisfying. 

But that’s not the reason I’m writing to you today.  I have a request.  A big one.  And I beg you to consider it for me.

I’ve been a victim all my life.  Despite being a rather bold and headstrong girl, I’ve still been the victim of abuse – rather blatant painful abuse that has landed me in the hospital a number of times.  And because of it, I killed my husband.  The police never even brought charges against me since the abuse from him was so thoroughly documented in their own files.  But it didn’t stop me from feeling guilty about it anyway. 

After that, I spent years trying to support myself, going from waitress job to waitress job, until now.  For the first time in my life I’ve got a halfway decent job, and an apartment of my own – a home that was destroyed by our friend Steve.  I still don’t feel comfortable there anymore.  But I’m trying.  Since I can’t afford to move, I have no choice.

What I want.  What I’m begging.  Is for you to teach me what you do.  I want the power you have so I won’t be a victim anymore.  I want that kind of power so I won’t have to resort to murder again.  I want…what you have. 

I am willing to go anywhere and do absolutely anything to get it.  Please, please consider teaching me.  I am desperate.  Beyond desperate. 

Sincerely,

Witch Monica

Susan read the email, then turned away from her computer.  She felt sad.  She would help Monica if she could, but she had no way to do that.  She wasn’t a sorceress.  There was no magic.  It was all…fake.  Pretend.  It was all done…for fun.  Her personal fun.  And to help satisfy her thirst for revenge against that one single damn man!

But Monica had far more serious issues to deal with than she ever had.  She had actually been forced to kill her own husband…after being abused enough to send her to the hospital over and over again.  Why hadn’t she simply divorced the man?  But Susan could probably guess.  The man himself probably kept her from leaving him.  And most likely, he made sure of it with his brutality. 

She had no answers for Monica.  She would wait before she emailed back to consider how she should answer. 

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Ruth picked up her phone.  “Hello?”

“Ruth,” the company president’s personal secretary said over the phone.  “They need the conference room again this afternoon.”

“No problem,” Ruth replied, although as usual, inwardly she was very perturbed.  She was doing menial work when she shouldn’t be.  “What time?” she asked.

“About four,” the secretary replied.  “Oh, and he asked that you put the good Scotch out for them as well.”

“Okay,” Ruth replied, knowing that sometimes the company president requested it.  “How many will there be?”

“Seven today,” the secretary replied.

“Okay,” Ruth told her.  “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Ruth.”

Another meeting…and the Scotch.  She remembered the information she had gotten the last time she put the Scotch out. 

At three o’clock, Ruth checked the conference room to make sure it was clean and everything was in its place.  It was.  She kept it that way.  At three-forty-five she was back with two bottles of what she was sure was very expensive Scotch, and seven freshly cleaned glasses.  From the sideboard in the room she picked up the ice bucket and carried it out.  In the small kitchenette on that floor, she filled the ice bucket and carried it back to the room.  The room was still empty as she expected it to be.  Before setting the ice bucket down, with a great deal of difficulty, she removed the bottom from the bucket.  The insulated bucket had plenty of space between the inner container and the outer sides.  She flipped a small switch and replaced the bottom on the bucket again.  She checked the room one more time, and walked out.  She would clean it all up after their meeting.

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