Puddle

a bit of a revenge story

It took her months to find what she was looking for. Across multiple countries, among numerous languages and through many seasons she searched. She called in every favour she could, and some she probably should not have. She would deal with that later.

All that mattered was the end result, her chance to make things right.

A small sense of relief came on the day she finally captured her prey, but she knew there was work yet to be done.

In a small room on a large ship, she stood in front of the piece of filth she owed so much to. And she was going to repay all of it, with interest.

He hit her. She bound his hands.
Not anywhere close.

He kicked her. She tied up his legs.
Not yet.

His teeth clamped down on her arm. She slapped him, then stuffed his mouth with a gag.
Nope.

He swept his bound legs behind her to try and knock her down. She kicked him in the head.
I don't think so.

He spat at her. It was thick and bloody. She stomped on his ribs and he convulsed.
Now we're getting somewhere.

His head fell to one side and he stopped moving. His breathing was laboured and a red froth stuck to his lips. She looked in to his slowly blinking unfocused eyes and smiled. In her hand was a cold and shiny instrument that glinted in what little light there was in the room.

She came in close and with a graceful, practised movement it was over.

Her satisfaction grew with the size of the puddle of red emanating from the now lifeless body on the floor.

Now, she thought to herself. Now I can forgive.