Milly's Wrath

{Part Twenty-Six}

The still of the night was enough to scare anyone. The wind didn't move, making the trees breathless, and for a second I wondered if time stood still itself. But that was stupid, because it' impossible. It's as impossible as bringing my Mom back to life.

Shelly was telling the truth when she said London was close. We followed her as she walked home with friends, chattering softly, with the occasional laugh, about whatever it is girls like her talk about, Maybe how to ruin other peoples lives? Or maybe how to be heartless bitches?

I wanted to charge at her then like an enraged bull; that's what I felt like anyway. But I couldn't. We needed her to be alone. Somewhere secluded. And that was given to us when she stupidly walked through an alley. It gave off a bad vibe, the alley did. Trash canes were tossed with mice crawling over the heaps of fish bones from someone's dinner. Cats meowed as if they were in pain and a random dog had barked the second Shelly and I stepped foot in the alleyway. Graffiti marked the walls, and strange globs of black crap was everywhere. I mean, I know the alleys aren't made to be beautiful but did they have to look like a crime scene all the time?

As if hearing my thoughts,which had no relevance whatsoever, London turned around. Her face was priceless when she took in the sight of Shelly and Me; me with a grimace planted on my face and Shelly's usual smirk. She tried to run, but that wasn't happening. In three quick strides I grasped her ponytail tightly in mine and threw her against the concrete wall. She moaned in pain and I took that opportunity to place my hands dangerously close to her neck. At that moment I wanted to grasp on, and something in me said to be it, but that would be too easy to do. I wanted her to suffer, to hold onto pain as long as possible.

With no words I kneed her in the stomach, punching her in the face so she fell to the ground. I ignored the crack of my knuckles from the force of my hit, and I ignored the blood streaming from her face. I kicked her again, not really caring where my foot landed as she flew back a few feet, landing on her back. I wasted no time in straddling her to punch her-each making a significant sound against her skin.

"Fight back!" I yelled at her, but not loud enough for any surrounding people to hear. "This is what you wanted, right? Blastin' my personal life for all to see! You wanted a fight so fight back!"

I punched her one more time in the face before getting up in frustration. I wanted her to fight back, I wanted her to hit me just because...I wanted...I noted she was still conscious, and as much as I wanted permanent damage to be left on her face I didn't do that. Sure she had bruises, some highly noticeable and others I knew would make moving a pain, but none deadly. And none would require surgery or a loss of anything. All I really want is for her to feel how I do, to feel the same amount of pain I was in.

Shelly placed something in my hand, and I didn't have to look to know what it was; the cold metal was enough for me to know. I walked over to London again, taking in how much blood streamed form her orifices. That's exactly how I felt inside; I was internally bleeding. Bleeding from the pain and confusion and sense of betrayal and the want to turn into the monster I felt inside of me.

So I held the gun up, taking it off of safety. I looked London in the eyes, seeing her fear of what to come next, and even a smudge of regret for what she did. I saw he silent pleads for me not to do this. I wish she thought of this earlier; I wish I knew what was plastered for over a thousand people to see. They got a glimpse of my life I didn't even see, and from what I did see I hope to never know. I placed my hand on the trigger, but I couldn't pull it.

Visions of that man being tied to a chair and shoot multiple times- or was it memory? How did I know that?

Visions of Shelly killing that girl months ago- I had fainted, because hair wasn't that serious, but was this?