Thriller

Rule one: Girls shouldn't be out after dark.

Rule two: Girls shouldn't be out after dark wearing a dress.

Rule three: Girls shouldn't be out after dark, wearing a dress and they certainly shouldn't meet men in the oily shadows of the night.

'It is not a safe world for us girls. Beware of strangers, beware of men.' I have lost count of the number of times I have heard that.

Girls shouldn't do this. Girls shouldn't do that.

These are the rules for not being raped, pillaged and murdered. You heed them unless you want your body to be dumped into the sea where the marine life will gradually nibble on you until you are nothing but bones. It is ingrained into every girls' heart from the moment she takes her first breath.

But what are the rules when you are the killer?

"Tara, I am going to kill my boss. Bill deserves a fucking pole to be shoved so far up his ass he sees the stars and then joins them." I barely control my hysteria. The world is drowning in magentas, reds and maroons. My soul churns with fire.

"Tris. Tris. Calm down. What happened?" Even though she is miles away, back home in NYC, I can feel the warmth and concern flooding down the line. I take momentary comfort in it before the rage rises back up like sour bile.

I am in the girl's bathroom to talk to her. I turn on the tap so the sound of water cascading against the marble fills the room, drowning out my words. Clamping down on my teeth, I grit, "You know how a few weeks ago I told you that he groped my ass in the office, right? At the time, it happened so fast that I thought I imagined it. But fuck, Tara, he comes up to me two days ago and shoves me against a wall in a silent corridor and kisses me in this disgusting slobbery way. I knee-kick him in the balls and shove him away. For this, he turns molten red and purple."

I am choking on my own breath in my panic. I don't even know how that is possible.

"Calm down, Tris. It is ok. Tell me what happened. We'll deal with him. Slow down and tell me the details clearly."

I gulp. "Okay. After I pushed him off, he said, 'No one rejects me. See how I pay you back, bitch.' I thought he was going to fire me, but he doesn't and I just dismiss his words as words uttered by a hurt male ego. The next day it is 'bring your kid to work day,' so I bring May. She sits by me the whole day except for these ten minutes I go and print something from a place across the street because my printer isn't working." The words just gush out, a stream I cannot control.

My fingers are trembling to an extent that the phone nearly falls out of my sweaty palms and to the floor. I gripe it harder. Tara is shouting to me to talk to her but the world is drowning in screams. I think they are mine. Or maybe I am imagining it. I count down from ten.

It's ok. It's ok.

When my heart rate slows down, I start speaking again.

"I come back from the print shop and see May, who is all of sudden so sullen and subdued. This is very different from the May minutes ago whose eyes were sparkling and cheeks flushed with happiness. Out of the blue, she asks me to take her home."

I stumble towards the wall, pressing my forehead against the cool granite, steadying myself so I can force out the next few words. "I ask her what's wrong and she doesn't tell me. I just assumed some other kid at the office said something to her. And then this morning she comes and tells me a large man with blue eyes touched her private parts. He apparently lured her from everyone else, to 'talk'. After he did that, gave her a lolli and told her to shut up and not tell me. I am sure it's Bill, Tara. I am fucking sure. He's punishing me."

My voice is trembling now. "Tara, he half finger-fucked my baby. Because I wouldn't sleep with him in high school and I wouldn't sleep with him now. He has always been a pervert. I came back from NYC to Louisiana because my mother is dying of cancer. Cancer, Tara. I did not sign up for May getting violated. This move is already taking a toll on her." I gasp. "And now this. I don't even think she knows what happened. She is five, Tara. Just think of this psychological impact of it. I knew working for him was bound to stir up some trouble sooner or later...but not this."

Hot salty tears leave their trail down my flushed cheeks. "She's five." I realize I am on the floor, curving into myself, rocking back and forth. The cold floor is a fingertip that chills me to the bone and provides no comfort.

Tara is silent on the other end, shocked. Finally, she breathes. "Oh God. Really? Oh, god."

I nod, although I know she can't see it. "I believe May. You should have seen her yesterday, T. She was so un-May like. So hollow. I should have realized. I should have been a better mother. And...god, that bastard hurt my kid. I came to work today, instead of staying at home with May, just to slap the fuck out him. But when I saw him, T, I wanted to kill him. I do."

"Fuck. I am sorry, Tris. This is disgusting. Oh god. Fuck. Did you report him?"

"Not yet. I wanted to confront him, make him confess on tape, but I am afraid I'll claw his eyes out if I get near him."

Tara lets out a shuddering breath on the other side. "All right. Just breathe. Control that anger. Confront him outside of the office. Tape him and report him. But please don't do something drastic that you will regret. Don't do something that will leave May without a mother. I get your anger, but..."

Don't fucking murder him. Her message comes off loud and clear. I decide to ignore it.

I rather listen to the chant of my heart. I am going to kill him for hurting my baby.

No one hurts May.

I call him with a disposable phone to meet me at the edge of the clearing of Pinewood Forest at nine pm. What I have planned doesn't require a burner phone, but it is better to be safe. He is dubious of the location but a sexy remark here and a soft flirtation there and I have him convinced it is an ideal spot and close to my home, for a quick 'getaway.'

Men. So gullible sometimes.

I make myself look as pretty and innocent as possible. My blonde hair is billowed out, falling down as waves that end at my neckline. The short summer dress that shows off my cleavage hits the middle of my thighs and showcases my endless legs that Tara is forever jealous of. Six-inch heels the same shade of blue as my dress hikes up my height by a few inches-close to his own height which is perfect for access later.

Dark eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, and fake lashes make me look like a doll and my lips are smeared with a shade of fuck-me-now red. I am the epitome of the girl every man wants to fuck.

As I am at the designated place an hour earlier, I wait for him to arrive. Wait and fret.

The needle in my sling bag seems to take pleasure in taunting me. Are you really going to use me? Are you a killer?

Yes, today I am. For May.

I am dolling out justice, is my cry. Yet, it seems even the trees are condemning me. Their bare, spindly branches curl towards the ground, bony fingers that cage me. A nearby streetlamp bathes the path in front of me in silvery light. As it falls on the forest floor, the light and dark battle each other out for dominance. It mimics me, my choices, my soul.

The night is a claustrophobic silent as if the forest is holding its breath to see what I will do.

I want to do this, I remind myself. My nerves are steel and my heart a knife and my revenge a poison.

Yet, a part of me feels uneasy. This isn't me, truly. The air feels stifling, hot. Sweat pools down my back. I can taste the salt corroding my tongue.

But I will ask him if he actually did it. If he didn't and I believe him, he won't have to die. Maybe he hadn't...maybe...

I know deep inside he did. He is that kind of a man.

He arrives right at that moment. For thirty-six, he looks good. Boyish smile, glistening teeth, and a full head of hair. However, a closer inspection reveals the slight beer belly, the hunched shoulders, and tired blue eyes. Regardless of how he looks on the outside, his soul is infested with vermin.

As soon as I see him, my rage rears its head. My mama lion is ready to sink in her claws.

"Bill," I say warmly when he stops in front of me.

"Beatrice-"

"Tris-" I correct.

"Tris." He smirks. "I am glad you changed your mind."

It takes every ounce of my effort to not slap him. I dig my manicured nails into my soft palms, not crying out. Time to ask him. I don't have to go through with my plan if he answered truthfully now. If he answered right.

"You hurt my daughter. I can't let you do that. Better me than her."

He laughs, a low sleazy, drunken laugh that twists my gut. "No one rejects Bill Williams. No one. Not even you. You bitch, sitting on your high horse, thinking you aren't attracted to me. Well, glad my thing with your daughter opened your eyes." He winks.

He's dead.

I want to rip out his throat.

"I was playing hard to get, Bill. You need some competition sometimes." I try to make my voice light and airy even if I am exploding inside. I even give him a wink.

Bastard. Bastard. Bastard.

He gives me another lazy grin. "Now let's go to your place, shall we? This place is so dark and empty. Why did you ask me to meet you here?"

This is the moment. I give him a flirty, seductive smile. "Don't you remember? Well, it is because I could do this and have some privacy, babe."

Like I am in a fucking cliché rom-com, I lock my palms on the back of his neck and pull him toward me, latching our lips together. In the process, I make him dip me. It would be cute if it isn't for the fact he repulses me.

He kisses me fervently on my lips for several seconds. Moving his attention to my neck, he leaves a hot trail of kisses along my jaw and finally nibbles on my ear lobe. He groans in pleasure and I mimic him, trying to sound natural although I am convulsing with disgust. He is hard and I can feel his dick pressing against his pants, the bulge touching my inner thigh.

He doesn't even notice when I slip one hand into my bag, the other one still in his hair. I keep him going at my neck with the kisses so he doesn't notice anything odd. He complies like the bitch he is.

I stick the needle full of KCl in him right above his hip, the needle piercing through his shirt and skin cleanly.

He stiffens and pulls away from me, his eyes glazing with shock, realizing something is terribly wrong. Clutching at his chest, he stumbles backward.

"What have you done to me? I can't breathe. My chest hurts."

I don't recognize myself when I say with as much ice as I can muster, "Nothing, Bill. You're experiencing a heart attack. Quite common in middle-aged adults these days. Boohoo it is happening to you." I smile a sugary grin, sweet enough to kill.

"No. You did this. You...bitch." He sinks onto his knees, pure panic and terror in his ocean eyes. He claws at his tie, trying to undo it.

"Don't do this. This is murder." Purple and red creep up his neck, twin ropes of pain.

It is my turn to smirk. "No. it isn't. This chemical breaks down into K and Cl, which are natural components in your body. It wouldn't raise any red flags in the autopsy report. You are just a sad middle-aged lonely dude who died on a walk through the forest. But in the case it is a homicide, there is nothing linking you to me. No incriminating evidence."

Some sickening, twisted, perverted part of me feeds gleefully on the despair in his eyes. I watch the twinkle in those depths snuff out as he curls up on the muddy forest floor silently screaming.

I watch as he dies, the softest of smiles on my lips.

Maybe the rules don't change after all. It just matters who's in control.

I am the murderer wearing a dress with a man in the dark, dark night.

A/N: This piece ( well the reason for her murder--not the actual killing lol) was inspired by a short documentary I saw recently about child molestation and another about women in the workplace and harassment. I tried to incorporate the emotions I felt while watching those videos into this piece, but cutting out a lot of words took away from the original :/. I do still hope it was enjoyable and thrilling and it was something I really enjoyed doing. :)

I also lovveeeddd searching up poisons for a murder that are untraceable in the blood and makes the death look natural. An extra dosage of KCl can do that :)

Word Count: 2000

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