Vigilantism

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Shakespeare

Janet drives down the craggy dirt road as fast as she can. Dust flies all around her, making it difficult to see. It's a rough ride with the truck's threadbare tires and rusty shocks, but she figures this is better than the alternative; life in prison for a murder she didn't commit. Please, god. Please get me out of this mess, she begs.

Her hands shake uncontrollably as her stomach balls into a large, hard knot. She pictures Timmy's tearful face in her mind. I have to do this for my baby's sake.

She swerves around a human-sized pothole in the center of the road. Loose tools clank across the truck bed. The cab squeaks with every jar. Janet recalls her initial conclusion. Rust is the only thing keeping this together. I hope it doesn't decide to fall apart now. "Please just get me somewhere safe," she says, tapping its dusty dash.

She looks up she sees the highway a few feet ahead. I'm almost there. She weaves to miss another pothole. She glances back up to see two police cruisers heading her way. She anxiously pulls onto the main road. Oh, please don't let them recognize me, God. Please don't let them realize it's me, she frightenedly pleads.

The turmoil causes her stomach to churn with such force that she throws up in her mouth. She chokes the nasty bile back down. Not now, oh please, not now. Vomit rises in her throat again. She tries to swallow it down, but it comes up with such force that it splatters across the seat. The stench from the chunky bile overpowers her. She throws up again. Janet looks up to find the cops are about to pass. She vomits again. Please keep going, oh please keep going, she thinks, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Janet watches the cop cars whizz past and breathes a sigh of relief. She then notices a nasty taste in her mouth. The overwhelming scent of bile hits her again, making her stomach churn. "I can't do anything about that taste, but I can sure air out this cab."

She's rolling down the window when a horrific thought comes to mind. What if they turned around? She glances in her rearview mirror to find the cops are far away. "It looks like I escaped again."

A terrifying thought suddenly comes to mind. It won't be long before the officers figure out it was me. I've got to get as much distance between us as I can. Maybe, I should take a different route. And I'll trade this truck for something else. How am I going to do that? I could steal a car from a busy parking lot. The cops will put out an APB, and I'll be stuck again. Oh, what am I going to do? What am I going to do? She anxiously pushes its pedal down further as random thoughts race through her head.

She first pictures herself being held at gunpoint by the cops. She then imagines the judge yelling, life behind bars. Lastly, she envisions Timmy's devastated face as they drag her away. I can't accomplish anything this way. She takes a deep breath and starts again. First things first, I need to get as far away as possible. She pushes its pedal to the floor. The old beat-up Chevy fishtails around the curves, leaving bits of tread behind. Janet nervously clenches the wheel.

"Please, God. Please, just get me out of here." Swerving around another sharp corner, she nervously scoots closer to the wheel.

"You know I didn't kill him, God. You know that wasn't me. I'd never kill anyone, ever, not even a sick pup.

Her dog birthed ten sickly pups. Janet knew the human thing to do was euthanize, to get them out of their misery, but she couldn't bring herself to do it no matter how much she rationalized the thought.

Oh, how am I going to prove I didn't do it? How? Please, God, please help me prove my innocence. I beg you, please, God. Please, help me through this, for Timmy's sake."

The truck squeals around another corner as images of his happy little face run through her mind. "I promise to be the best mother I can be. I'll read him Bible stories, take him to church on Sundays, and teach him all about you; if you just help me through this. Please, Lord, please help me for my baby's sake," she bawls.

Jackie cuts the wheels too sharp, causing the truck to veer to the edge of the road. Janet overcorrects. The vehicle swerves to the opposite side. She punches on the brakes. The pedal hits the floor, but the truck doesn't stop.

"Please, God. Please, don't let me wreck." She pushes on the emergency brake. It, too, falls to the floor. The vehicle continues toward the cliff. "No," she screams. The pickup gains momentum as it bumps down the steep mountainside.

***

The morning sun seeps around the edges of her floral curtains, making her room seem uncomfortably warm. The overly-exerted killer looks down at Willy's bloody corpse and smiles. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't have some type of wound.

Outraged over the children's merciless treatment, and horrific death, Penny lost all control. She often pictured her horrendous childhood, as Willie explained.

He'd finally confessed to his part in the crime, coughing up names of the players who were still alive. Criminals Penny plans to visit soon.

"I hope you rot in hell, you worthless piece of shit." She spits in his face.

The Killer sees her reflection in the mirror when she turns around. Willy's blood covers every inch of her petite frame. She even has red streaks in her long sandy hair. It's so well worth it, she thinks, glaring at the bloody corpse. This morning's event replays in her mind as she admires her handy work.

~~~

"I'll make sure you'll never hurt anyone ever again." She lifts her knife and stabs him over and over. Childhood memories run through her mind as she plunges her blade deep into his rounded body.

She recalls how her foster dad tied her to her bed so he and his buddies could take turns with her. She then remembers their godawful smells, a disgusting mix of alcohol, sweat, and stale tobacco. She then recalls how they manhandled her, often leaving bruises behind, and how she felt when their large bodies crushed her into the mattress with the rusty springs puncturing her spine, how they'd beat her senseless if she made a sound. She then recalls how she'd curl up into a tiny ball and cry for hours after, often until the break of dawn. She thinks back to all the nights she begged to be taken away.

"Please, Lord, please let me get sent to another home. I promise to be a good girl, I promise. I've learned my lesson, lord I have. I won't cause trouble anymore."

Her situation quickly worsened, and her nightly prayers changed. "Please, Lord. Please let me be with my mama. Please, Lord. Please take me out of this place." Her mother committed suicide soon after they convicted her daddy of rape.

She then remembers how happy she was when the police hauled her foster dad away and her overwhelming terror when he returned.

~~~

"I made sure he didn't hurt me again," she says. She plunges her knife into Willy's body one last time. "Yep, I took care of him like I did you. Now I must ensure you don't continue your bad habits in hell." She firmly places both hands on his chainsaw and cuts just below his wrist. "There's one last thing I need to do. She glances between his legs. "I can't forget little Jr, now can I?" She lifts it off the bed. "I don't know how you satisfy anyone with that anyhow." She laughs, tossing it aside.

***