Page 11 of Wicked Winter Night

“Well, go on then,” I tell her, anticipating what’s to come.

She clasps her hands together and leans in, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant.”

My eyes widen, tears beginning to form. We’ve been trying for about two years now, practically giving up hope as test after test came negative. My own grin begins to form. “Are you serious?” I lean in, grabbing her clasped hands with mine.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, tears falling down her cheeks. “My period was seven days late, so I took a test while you were at work. I didn’t want to disappoint you again if it was negative,” she chokes out.

I squeeze her hands. “You could never disappoint me, my love.”

She gently wipes the tears from her cheeks to avoid ruining her makeup, and our dinner shortly arrives after. The entire dinner is spent talking about our baby on the way, potential names and nicknames, what sports they might want to play, or if they’re gonna be more artsy. We talk about all the family vacations we’re going to take and how we want to tell our families. We round out the night with dessert, and as I sit here, looking at my beautiful wife, I just can’t imagine how I got so lucky. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.

Once the bill is paid, we head back out to fetch the car, and once it arrives, we head back for what I hope to be a night of amazing sex. Coming up to a red light, I stop before looking over at Laura. Just as I lean in to kiss her, a black SUV pulls up and rolls down its window, the glint of a gun shining under the moon’s glow. Before I can give a warning, shots ring out. One, two, three, four shots, and the glass shatters. One of them whizzes by my ear as I try to cover Laura as much as I can. The fourth shot makes contact with my collarbone, and I grab it with a grunt of pain. The car speeds off just as quickly as it arrived, and I throw the car in park.

“Laura, are you okay, baby?” I ask frantically, checking her over to make sure there aren’t any injuries, but she doesn’t respond.

“Laura, baby, can you hear me?” I ask, grabbing the sides of her face and tapping her cheek. Her head slumps forward, and it’s at this time that I realize something is wrong. Her eyes are closed, and she’s not responsive, but I don’t understand. I don’t see anything wrong with her. I lean her head gently back against the seat.

“Hang on, baby,” I state, getting out of the car and running over to the passenger side. When I open the passenger door, itall makes sense. There, on the right side of her neck, is a bullet-sized hole, and blood is oozing down the side, the side of the door already having been covered.

“No, no, NO!” I shout, pulling her out and laying her on the ground. I begin performing CPR just as other cars begin to pull up. “Somebody, help me, please!” I scream. “Call 911!” With each chest compression I make, the tears begin falling faster. “Stay with me, baby. You can’t leave me. I love you. I need you. We’re gonna have a baby!” My vision begins to blur through the watery mess, but I don’t stop. It’s not until EMS arrives eight minutes later and has to pull me off of her that I realize she’s not coming back.

I’ve tried to forget about that night for the last eight years. But it’s damn near impossible. Although, since that night, I haven’t been able to feel much, physically and emotionally. Something shattered inside my heart and brain that night. Something I haven’t been able to get back. Unconsciously, my hand touches the site of the bullet hole just below my left collarbone. I spent weeks in the hospital recovering, and when I was finally released, I never felt more alone. I went home to an empty house with her belongings still lying on the floor, in the closet, and they smacked me in the face at every turn. With every reminder of her loss, a piece of my heart and soul shattered, each piece becoming sharper and jagged with no hope of ever being put back together.

Anger consumed me, and the need for revenge festered with every negative thought.They were never caught. They killed her, and they’re still on the run. You’re weak. A real man would have gotten justice. She’s dead because you couldn’t protect her.

I began researching everything I could about that night. Every police report, every article, and I even asked a few friends in law enforcement who owed me personal favors. One of them was able to get me camera footage from the traffic cams in thearea. Unfortunately, the plates were stolen, so the case never really went anywhere, but that didn’t stop me. I followed each path, talking to people they came in contact with along the way until I ran into some people less willing to give me the information I needed. If they didn’t talk, I killed them. And once they did talk, I still killed them. I found out that it was a gang-related crime. Everyone who was involved dropped one by one until I made it to the coward who pulled the trigger. I made sure his death was slow and painful. A man need not be a professional when it comes to seeking revenge for the woman he loves. You’d be surprised how far adrenaline, red-hot rage, the need for revenge, and a weapon get you.

“It wasn’t personal,” he said, choking on his blood from the blows I rained down on his face. “It was just part of our initiation. We had to make a kill before we could join the gang.”

“It was personal to me,” I seethed before taking the knife and slicing his throat open from one side to the other.

Despite killing the people responsible for Laura’s death, the rage never subsided. I still felt angry. I went through a reckless phase, killing anyone I perceived as a shitty person. The man taking a piss in an alleyway, the ones who disrespected women doing their jobs, and the ones who just pissed me off. I was careless. I didn’t care whether I got caught in the act. In fact, I made it a game. I wouldn’t leave any trace of evidence behind to intentionally get caught, but I wouldn’t run if someone stumbled upon me in the act. I figured it would be a way to pay for my sins. If I were caught in the act, that would be fair. I just never got caught.

Then, David, being David, picked up on my trail. He tracked me for months, and when he finally approached me with a business offer I couldn’t refuse, I took it. Now, I get to kill the real shitbags. The men who prey on children and get away with it. Now I have a purpose. However, since the night Laura died,I haven’t been able to feel anything, even the cold. I don’t know if that means I truly am dead inside, but I haven’t been able to explain it. I just know that while I was cock-deep inside Ella, Ifelther. There’s no escaping me now. I need to know what this means.

Realizing I’ve zoned out, I peek back over to Ella’s cabin and see blue and red flashing lights. That little minx. I told her not to call the cops, so now it looks like she’ll need to be punished. Unsure of how long they’ve been there and how much time I have left before they begin a perimeter search, I head through the woods and to my safehouse. Once they’re gone, I’ll head back. I had planted game cameras around the forest, pointed directly at her cabin the first night she was here, so I’ll be able to monitor their whereabouts.

My phone’s ringtone lights up the forest with a melody, sounding much louder in the serene quiet amongst the trees. Pulling it out of my pocket, I check the Caller ID and answer.

“Talk to me. What did you find?” I ask.

“Well, not much. I hate to say it, but your girlfriend is a little boring. Father died from cancer a few years back. Her mother and sister still live in the state. She moved across the state line to Kansas to go to college. She has a job at a bookstore as a manager. She met her boyfriend, well, fiancé, in college. Clean record, no arrests. Her social media makes it seem like she has a rather nice life that you probably shouldn’t fuck up,” David states bluntly.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion, now isn’t it?” I retort. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. That fiancé of hers, Liam Johnson—he has a record. One I don’t know that she’s aware of, otherwise, I doubt she’d be with him,” he explains, and it piques my curiosity.

“Go on,” I respond.

“Well, it looks like while he was a senior in high school, he was accused of raping three women at a house party with a few of his buddies. Drugged them and even recorded some of it.”

“Then what is this shitbag still doing walking around free?” I seethe, clenching my jaw.

“The judge granted him leniency. Said he was a ‘bright young man’ and ‘had his whole future ahead of him’ before giving him probation as his only consequence. They didn’t even leave it on his record. I had to dig for it.”

‘Well, it looks like we need to pay the sonofabitch a visit then. Send me his photo. I’ll add him to my list of shit to do.”

“Already heading your way.” A ping comes through, and his image pulls up.