My place, was his response.

Rolling my eyes, I shifted in my bed, causing Celeste to shift too. I knew adults assumed teenagers were stupid. And to be fair, they often proved them right. 

But going over to a stranger's house? 

At night?

Even as an adult, I wouldn't think about doing that. And I didn't intend to. 

IDK... I typed back. Three dots immediately appeared on the screen, and I watched with growing anticipation of what his response would be. Alarm bells were going off in my head, screaming at me how this was a bad idea.

But I honestly didn't care. The thrill running through me was too tempting. I could just imagine the look on his ratface when he saw the teenage girl he had been talking to was not a teenage girl at all. 

Another message came in.

Don't be like that. I'll make it worth your while. ;)

I couldn't hide the groan that escaped my lips. Not just because this was sickening, but because it was fucking cringe too. Like if he knew he was actually talking to an adult woman, would he have used the same one-liner?

Knowing how men were, probably.

Well, if he was that desperate to hook up, then I was sure he wouldn't mind meeting somewhere else. 

Can we meet at a park instead? My fingers quickly typed. 

The dots reappeared before disappearing. It went on like this for a while, as if he kept deleting and retyping his response.

Just when I thought maybe this wasn't going to go how I expected, the message came in. 

There's a park near my house. 

I couldn't fight back the grin slowly creeping across my face. So predictable. 

After getting the location of the park, I got out of bed and went to get the usual black hoodie I wore out of the closet. Practically everything in my wardrobe was black, gray, or some dark color. My brothers and best friend had tried several times to expand my color palette, but it wasn't my fault I was unable to digest pastels or neons or whatever flashy color they tried to throw my way.

As I started back for the stairs, Celeste gave a low whine. I glanced back at her over my shoulder and saw the saddest expression on her fuzzy face. It was as if she was warning me not to leave her, not to go.

Looking back now, at least that's what I try to tell myself. Like she somehow knew going to meet this guy was a bad idea. Was the beginning of the end.

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon." I gave her a reassuring smile, something I rarely did for anyone else. 

I was halfway out the front door when something suddenly struck me. Even though I was meeting this creep in public, I still shouldn't go empty-handed. I needed a weapon. Like a knife or...

A gun.

Going back inside, I headed for Zircon's room, which was where he kept his guns. 

Unlocked.

He didn't even try to hide them and just kept them tucked away in a cabinet where anyone could see. It's a wonder I didn't come out missing an eye as a child.

The cabinet creaked as I opened it, taking one of the smaller guns from it. I nearly sucked in a breath at the cool, metallic touch. Holding it, feeling its weight in my hands, was like a spray of cold water on my face. This wasn't just a game or a prank or a distraction. 

This was real.

Doubt started to creep into my mind. What was I thinking? This was so fucking stupid. What did I hope to accomplish by doing this?

I placed the gun back in the cabinet, shaking my head at my ridiculous antics. I just needed to go lie down and decompress. Not to meet up with a fucking pervert. 

Out of habit, I pulled out my phone to check for any new notifications. And as I did, I noticed one. Not one from any of the dating apps or my brothers or Thiago, but an email. Brimming with curiosity, I opened it up and read it.

Thank you for your interest in our company but...

"Fuck it," I swore out loud and grabbed the gun back out of the cabinet.

I was so fucking tired of all these doors being slammed in my face. Hell, sometimes I didn't even get far enough to unlock them.

So what if I wanted to scare a potential rapist? Maybe it would save a potential kid he'd prey upon. Maybe it'd make him think twice before messaging a minor.

And that was good enough for me. Was it the most healthy? No. Was it a bit self-destructive? Of course.

But it sure as hell was more important, more meaningful than working in a fucking call center.

Firing on the ignition, I backed out of the driveway and onto the road. The gun lay on the passenger's seat, a black stain against the leather. A harsh reminder of the seriousness of the situation.

Inside the car, country music blared through the speakers. I know what you must be thinking. Me? Listening to country music? Jade, I was sure you listened to alternative rock and the most obscure psychedelic music. What could you possibly enjoy about men whining about their girls cheating on them, breaking their hearts, and getting drunk?

And on paper, you all would be right. Once you hear one country song, you've heard them all. I won't argue against that.

But for some inexplicable reason, country music scratched an itch in my brain that no other genre could. And it wasn't even my favorite genre! But unlike the classic and alternative rock I listened to for motivation and the psychedelic R&B I listened to for sleep, country music calmed my anxious thoughts. Loosened the tension in my body.

And as I drove to this park, I needed to calm down. My heart raced as if it were going to burst out of my chest. I could barely comprehend where I was driving; the sound of my phone ordering me where to turn barely registered in my mind. 

The riskiest thing I had ever done at this point was steal a bag of unprotected Whataburgers back in college from a conference room. And now, here I was, meeting up with not just a stranger but a pedophile. 

Whilst carrying a gun.

Several times, I asked myself why I was even doing this. What would be the point? 

But then that image of Mr. Ratface came back to mind. Would he start trembling once he realized the truth? Piss his pants? Run off with his tail tucked between his legs?

All these possibilities made another surge of excitement rush through me. I couldn't remember the last time I felt something like this. Something that made me feel important. 

Something that made me feel alive in the monotony of this Hell we call life. 

I pulled up to the park, immediately noticing how empty it was. After turning off the ignition and tucking my phone in my pocket, I remained in the driver's seat, trying to hype myself up and suppress any lingering doubts. I was actually about to do this. 

With a deep breath, I reached for the gun, knowing there was no going back after this. As I took the first step out of my car, I was hit with a cold gust of air. Well, that explained why no one else was around.

Always aware of my surroundings, I glanced around and saw just how eerie it was. The streetlights flickered ominously as if they were about to go out at any second. Seriously, what were our taxpayer dollars going to? Besides you know, my brother's paycheck.

It was quiet. 

Too quiet.

I don't know if you all are familiar with liminal spaces, but they're empty or abandoned places that give off an unsettling vibe. Like as if time has been altered or frozen.

And that's what was going on here.

Maybe it was just the weight of what was about to happen getting to me, but as I approached the empty playground, I knew there was something different about tonight.

I just didn't know what yet.

The nearby swings creaked as they swung, one of the few noises in the night. I had just barely reached them when I noticed someone peering at me from behind a tree up ahead.

I felt my heart leap into my throat. Look, I don't spook easily, but that was one of the most startling things I had ever seen. On instinct, my hand went to the gun tucked behind my back, prepared to use it even though I had only used one once or twice.

"Paulette?" The person stepped out from behind the tree. Sure enough, it was Mr. Ratface. And he was even uglier in person, if that was possible. 

Forcing a grin on my face, I acknowledged him in the fakest voice I've ever had the misfortune of using and addressed him. 

"You look so much younger in person," he observed, moving closer.

Oh, if only he knew the truth. My fingers tightened around the gun at the thought.

"More beautiful too." His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Thank you," I said with a tight-lipped smile. "So... Did you want to sit down somewhere and talk?"

His greasy strands swayed as he shook his head. "No... It's too cold out here. Why don't we go back to my place? It's not far from here. We can hang out and watch movies. I can order us a pizza... Warm you up."

He reached out for me, but I took a step back, disgusted at his implication. "I thought we agreed to hang out here..."

"What's wrong?" He quirked an eyebrow. "You're not scared, are you?"

The truth was, I wasn't. Because I knew I wouldn't let him take me to his house and because of the gun still clutched in my hand. 

"No... But..." I trailed off like the hesitant teenager I was acting as.

Mr. Ratface reached out to me again. "Come on. There's nothing to be scared of. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to get to know you better."

As soon as his fingers brushed against my arm, it was like a switch went off. My doe-eyed, reluctant teenage persona was shed. And in came my true self in all its bold and brash glory.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do, you fucking pervert." The girlish pitch in my voice dropped to its usual, almost monotone delivery. 

I pulled the gun from behind my back. Even in the darkness, it was clear what it was. 

That was one thing I did regret not doing. Filming the reactions of these creeps when they realized they weren't dealing with a kid like they thought. 

The moment when the predator realized they had become the prey.

If I didn't know any better, I would've thought they'd pissed themselves. 

"Wha– What the fuck?" he stammered. 

I had to bite back a laugh as I asked, "What's wrong? You're not scared, are you?"

A strangled gasp came from his throat, his fists clenched at his sides. He had grown a few shades paler and his eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets.

"Well, you should be." I gestured at him with the gun. "Because I really don't think your boss is going to like their employee being a pedophile. Or any of your friends or family."

"What the fuck do you want?" He tried to sound tough, but his trembling voice gave him away.

"I don't want anything," I answered. "Or at least, nothing you can give me. I just want to see you exposed for the pervert you are."

"This isn't what it looks like! I wasn't going to do anything!" He tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Shut up." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I swear!" he pleaded. "This was all a misunderstanding!"

Rolling my eyes, I started to back away from him. "We'll see what everyone else thinks when they see our messages."

Like I said before, I'm a planner. When I think about a decision, I run through as many outcomes as possible, analyzing the pros and cons of each scenario. It's why I brought a weapon. Why I never took my eyes off of him as I started to leave. 

The problem with being such a logical person is that you fail to account for the one thing humans are known for. 

Their unpredictability. 

Suddenly, he broke into a run and lunged at me. I barely had any time to react before he caught up to me, grabbing my arm. 

I tried to turn the gun on him, but he had forced me onto the grass, trying to seize it from me. 

Despite being thin, this man was surprisingly strong. It was taking all my strength just to keep the gun away from him because I knew if he took it, I'd really be in a bad situation. 

Grunting, I clawed at him with my nails, and he yanked at my hair. Pain shot through my scalp, but I knew I couldn't give in to it. Adrenaline and any survival instincts I had kept me going.

"You bitch!" he shouted as I kicked him off of me with my combat boots. He stumbled back, and this gave me enough time to sit upright and aim the gun at him.

He immediately went still at the sight, his hands raised in surrender.

"Now this is what's going to happen," I said as I tried to steady my breathing, never once taking the gun off of him. "You're going–"

"Hey!" a masculine voice called out. "Is everything okay over here?"

At the sound, both me and Mr. Ratface froze and turned our attention to the side where a young man had suddenly come running up. He looked just as breathless as I felt, his chest heaving underneath his jacket. Even in the faint light, I could see how wide his eyes were as he gaped at us.

We must've looked completely ridiculous, there on the grass.

Before I could even think to react, Mr. Ratface's hand shot out and tore the gun from my grip.

I instantly started to crawl back away but didn't get very far before the gun was pointed straight at me.

"Don't even think about going anywhere, bitch," he snarled through his uneven teeth. 

To the side of me, the man moved slightly, which caused Mr. Ratface to aim the gun in his direction. 

"I said don't fucking move!" 

The man, fear now etched across his perfect features, lifted his hands in the air. "Hey, it's okay. There's no need to–"

"Shut the fuck up!" The gun shook in Mr. Ratface's grasp. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I'm not going to be outed as a pedophile! I'm not a creep!"

While he was distracted by the handsome stranger, I decided to slowly inch away again. Of course, he noticed me out of the corner of his eye and turned his attention back to me.

Now, I know you're not going to believe me when I say what happened next. And I get it. It's going to sound farfetched. Even I wouldn't believe myself if I was on your end.

But if I'm admitting to all the other fucked up shit I did, why would I lie about this?

As Mr. Ratface kept ranting about how he wasn't a predator, and I tricked him, he kept taking slow, methodical steps toward me. I wasn't going to just be a sitting duck, so I crab-danced my way back closer to the tree he had been hiding behind, trying to figure out my next move. If I could get a rock or a fallen branch...

And that's when something incredible happened. 

Just when I thought it was going to end very badly for me. Just when I thought the last thing I'd hear was Mr. Ratface's stupid voice saying how I was going to pay, he took another step forward and tripped over a large root growing out of the ground. 

He lost his balance and his hold of the gun, which flew through the air and landed on the grass right between my legs.

If I hadn't been facing certain danger, I would've cracked up at how comical it all was. Like something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon.

But now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. My luck had turned around and I was not going to let it slip me by.

Without a second thought, I seized the fallen gun and fired it. I felt myself flinch, and to this day, I'm not sure if it was because of the recoil or because I felt a spray of blood on my cheek.

His body swayed back before crumbling to the ground, his eyes permanently widened in horror beneath the gaping hole in his forehead. 

The sound of the gunshot continued to ring in my ears, overpowering the pulsating beat of my heart. I could only stare at the body lying inches in front of me, unblinking and slack-jawed. It took the stranger beside me to remind me there was someone else still here.

A witness.

His petrified gaze locked onto mine. I didn't know what he had been doing while Mr. Ratface had been monologuing to me, but I did notice he had drawn closer. And one of his hands was stuck in his pocket, as if he were searching for something. 

I closed my open mouth, finally breaking out of my stupor. 

And much like before, I turned the gun on him without any hesitation.