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Authors: Ricki Thomas

Hope's Vengeance (39 page)

BOOK: Hope's Vengeance
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She studied him whilst the threatening veil danced around the room, floating in swirls, pervading every pore and charging the air with peril. Rick was a stunner, always had been since the moment he was born, dark chocolate eyes framed with insanely long black lashes, foppish dark hair, tousled and cute, making him seem younger than his years, although physically he was a monster of a man, tall and perfectly proportioned. She could see why the women fell for him in droves, and his reasoning during their frequent arguments on the subject that ‘if it’s there on a plate I’m going to eat it’ while he was young and unattached made sense, whether she applied her morals to the statement or not. A wave of sisterly protection swamped her, noting his hand tenderly placed on her client’s forearm, gently reassuring the woman who was potentially plotting his demise behind the steely face, grimacing with resolution.

Dawn’s eyes were settled on Hope now. There was something beautiful in her anger, the crystal clear blue firing from the outline of blacks lashes. The mahogany redness of her hair enhanced the pallor of her skin, topping the delicate body that held so much power, the distressed mind that contained the lifelong wounds which fuelled the vehemence they could all now see. She could understand why her brother had fallen in love with Hope, her uniqueness trapped everybody she met, including herself. And now that special bond Dawn and Hope had shared for nearly three months was the only thing that could save Rick, of that, Dawn was certain.

Dawn stood, her large frame ungainly, towering beneath the suspended ceiling, the scattering of halogen spotlights reflecting her mass of unkempt golden curls. She met Hope’s stare, locking eyes as she ambled to the breakfast bar. She sat opposite her client, and swiftly Claudia was forgotten and they were the only people in the room. Neither women were in any doubt that the counselling session they were about to begin would be the final one.

Dawn chose her words carefully. The opening line was vital, and the wallflower witnesses instinctively knew they were out of the discussion while the counsellor guided her client. None of them knew that Dawn was the only chance for Rick’s survival now, the fury that raged inside the wounded woman’s psyche was now indifferent to love, devoid of both compassion and common sense. Hope had finally dropped over the edge.

 

Charity Fusses

 

 

The scene had changed dramatically since Hope had left the room. Both the midwives had left, their skills no longer required, and Penny slept peacefully on the sofa, crisp white upholstery almost saved from ruin by the muddy tarpaulin Charity had removed under Linda’s orders. Charity had argued her case strongly, unable to understand why nobody else cared that the sofa was new and hugely expensive. But her pleadings had been halted by the no-nonsense midwife: ‘Conversation over! A baby cannot be born on a filthy tarpaulin, it’s unhygienic, just disgusting. Get rid of it, you can claim for the sofa on insurance.’

In Penny’s comforting arms, protected from harm, nestled between her mother and the back of the sofa, the baby lay, peacefully asleep, healthy and bonny. Charity plodded around the room, fussing, astounded by the mess, the clutter. The watery blood, which stained both carpet and cushions. The filth. Not for the first time, she wished Keith wasn’t in Houston on business.

“What are they bloody doing in that kitchen!” Childishly huffing, Charity moved to the bureau, opening the filing drawer, and she rooted through the alphabetically ordered pockets until she found the file she was hunting. “There! House insurance.”

 

The Final Session

 

 

“How are you feeling, Hope? You’ve had some shocks tonight, I imagine you’re scared and confused.”

Her jaw was tensed, lips taught, and the white knuckles of the clenched fists described her inner emotions without words. “They are not putting me in prison again, I’d die first.” Rick clasped her hand supportively, but she shoved him away.

“Why do you think you might go to prison?”

“That bastard has ruined me in his lifetime, and now he’s going to ruin me in death too. He wasn’t meant to die. I wanted him dead at first, I admit, but I realised it wouldn’t make me feel any better.” She clasped her hand to her breast. “I have to let go in here,” long, red-stained fingernails tapping her head, “and in here.” Fire glared at Claudia, who shuffled uncomfortably with the intensity. “That bitch screwed me up, telling me they were going to arrest him, then letting me down. He deserved to be punished for what he did. Dawn, I was just seven. I was a baby. And he turned me into a woman, my childhood ended there.” The flames moved to Rick, burning deeply and making him flinch. “Just like your irresponsible kid brother did to my own baby.”

Keep her talking, but change the subject, as long as the venom was aimed at Rick he was in danger. “So you went to Cambridge to punish him?”

“Chained down on that bed, naked, skinny! Wiry arms covered in wiry black hair, yellow toenails, that disgusting phallus flopped over his thigh. I saw him for what he was: pathetic, a mere bully who got his power kicks from abusing little girls. I wanted to make him see that every time he stole a baby virgin, the scars lasted for life, not just for the moment of his depraved orgasm. You know, he forced it into my tiny seven-year-old mouth so hard my lips split in three places, I had the ugly scabs to remind me for weeks.” Krein was disturbed by the vile statement, he squirmed, thinking again of his own daughter, her blissful, unharmed childhood. “Even when he was flaccid it was monstrous, so you can imagine how massive it was when it was erect. Fucking abnormal, that’s what, he was a mutant.”

In the background the gentle lapping of the kettle boiling stirred Rick into action. He’d taken Gayle’s role in Dawn and Hope’s counselling sessions, providing drinks, hot for Krein and Claudia, and alcoholic for the other three. Hope downed her brandy in one, not wincing, the fire only meeting with the inner fire, igniting her further. She shoved the glass towards Rick, who dutifully poured a second, bringing the bottle back to the bar with him. “I had a gun…”

Claudia couldn’t restrain her stunned gasp, she was desperate to know where the gun was now, and where it had come from, but she buried the questions, they’d be answered in time. It was as if Hope had stepped into her brain and stolen the questions. She diverted to Claudia, face twisting. “If you must know, I bought the gun from some sleazy guy for cash after my ex-husband raped me, okay! I swore nobody would ever humiliate me like that again. And you don’t need to know where it is now.”

From the incredulous expression on Claudia’s paling face, Dawn guessed Hope had just done the mind-reading trick on her, and she knew exactly how intimidating it felt. She felt the blue return to her, face softening with their familiarity, their rapport. “It was totally unplanned, but I hit him with it, cut his forehead. I just saw him on the bed, and he revolted me, I detested him, and I wanted to hurt him.”

Hope’s head dropped, she peered coyly at Dawn, shame tinged with naughtiness. “Like you said, for as long as I can remember I’ve manipulated men to get what I want by using sex as a tool. If they think they’re going to get laid, men will do anything.” Shocked, Dawn could swear she hadn’t stated that conclusion out loud. She glanced at Rick, his arms crossed tightly, face sullen. “Obviously Griffin was a pervert, so the suggestion of filthy sex was the best way to get him going, I thought.”

“Premeditated?”
“Of course! I even brought a disposable glove so I didn’t have to touch his skin.”
“What skin, why were you touching him?”
“I was masturbating him, get him going, then hurt him.”

Dawn leaned forward, the final session well underway, and she cupped her chin in her hand, contemplative. “Let me get this straight, he’s chained up by a woman he’s sexually abused, she’s just whipped him with a gun, and he still gets a stiffy! No, Hope, I’m not buying that one.”

“That was your brother, not me.”

Her eyes widened in horror, a desperate pleading to hear that he hadn’t been sexually involved in this filthy game. Rick chuckled, throwing a cigarette at Hope, and taking one himself. He held it in his lips, talking from the corner of his mouth. “She was working him but it wouldn’t rise to the occasion, so I started describing what she looked like, a little girl in school uniform, playing with his knob, and it worked straight away. That’s the power of the imagination for you!” He lit the cigarette.

Relieved, Dawn returned her gaze to the woman in front of her, leaning comfortably against the surface, relaxed and lost in her story once more. “I still don’t get it, why masturbate him, I mean, that’s giving him pleasure, why did you want to do that?”

Her light tinkle echoed against the stark whiteness of the Poggenpohl cupboards that lined the professionally decorated walls. “No, I was making him think he was enjoying it, then my next strike would hurt even more. It did, it was ace! I got a knife and I slashed his chest. Not deep enough to do damage, but enough to bleed.”

“Like you do when you’re frustrated.” The explanation put her questions to bed.

“I was showing him what it’s like to self-harm, I was his hand. I was showing him that the physical pain of cutting yourself is severe, and that shows how deeply the pain is up here,” she tapped her head again, “if you’re willing to experience that pain just to get rid of the anger inside.”

Claudia’s questions were bubbling, she wanted to interrupt, investigate.

“I slashed him in all the places I’ve cut myself.” She was demonstrating by moving clothing aside, revealing the scars, some white, the more recent a reddish purple. “Arms, legs, chest, belly, bum, shoulders. There was blood pouring from all over him.”

“What was he doing? Griffin?”

“Crying. Trying to scream but the gag stopped him. His feebleness made me hate him more. Anyway. The bit you’re both here for.” Hope’s eyes travelled from Krein to Claudia, settling back with Dawn. “I forced him to take the tablets that killed him.” She glimpsed back at Claudia, gauging her reaction, surprised to note her shoulders sag, her demeanour sag, resigned. “I’ve taken five overdoses in my time, I’m always sick within half an hour, that’s why it’s never worked.”

“You wanted him to be sick?”

She took a swig of the brandy, swilling it, pondering. “I guess. I didn’t want it, maybe, but I expected it. I also had a noose prepared that would only hold his weight for seconds, but I had to use it on Rick to shut him up. All the same, I doubt it would have gone that far, anyway.”

Dawn reflected for a minute, the concentration registering across her brow. “Why a noose? You’ve never tried to hang yourself, have you?”

“No, but I’ve thought about it, just never had the courage to do it.” Hope stood up, distancing herself from the group, she sat on the worktop on the other side of the room, arms pushing her tiny body up, agile. “As he lay there, his eyes drooping, pathetic, everything suddenly felt okay, like the darkness had lifted. I’d done what I needed to do, I didn’t need to take it any further, I was avenged. Rick had begged me to stay with him, swearing he didn’t know Penny was underage when he screwed her, and she agrees with that too, says she told him she was sixteen. For a brief period I felt true happiness, something I’ve never experienced before. I was in love with a guy I adored, I had no tightness in my chest. And the anger at the abuse had disappeared, I hoped for ever.” And, on cue, as if her words had reminded her she was acting a role, Hope clasped her left arm, wincing, breathing deeply.

Her head sagged, eyes blackening, emotions dying. “We drove home, we were blissful, holding hands. I loved him more than anything then, we were going to get married, have a baby, commit ourselves to us.”

The rage returned, lips scorned, eyes deadly. “Then I’m stopped, flown off, and faced with a grandchild I wasn’t expecting. That’s bad enough, but it’s his filthy spawn. The same filthy spawn I wanted to make me another daughter. It made me sick. It makes me sick. Every ounce of happiness flooded out of me, my exciting future a pointless dream. I loved him and now I couldn’t ever have him. And all because he couldn’t keep his dick to himself. He’d thrown our relationship away before it had even started, because my child was already carrying his.”

The hand clenching her arm relaxed, moving to her chest and grasping, her face contorted, and Claudia leaned towards her, concerned. “Are you okay, Hope?”

“It’s just heartburn, it’ll pass in a minute.” Discreetly Claudia span her legs round the chair, ready to sprint to the broken woman if she collapsed. “It’s like life was playing a game with me, it gave me a moment of true happiness, of pure contentment, and then whisked it away in a severe slash, mocking me, full of contempt. Seeing my granddaughter, I’ve no affection but hatred, because she’s stolen my man away from me. I’ll always do my best for her, but I’ll never love her, she’ll always remind me of what I’ve lost.”

Forlorn, Hope jumped from the worktop, stepping forward, with uncharacteristic tears now dripping over her cheeks. As she neared Claudia, she briefly held her hands outstretched, inner wrists together in a gesture of submission, before returning one to her chest, and the other to her upper arm. “So there you are. I murdered Griffin. I admit it, and I know you have no choice but to arrest me.”

Claudia glanced at Krein, pleading eyes begging him not to punish Hope further, and he avoided her gaze, uncomfortable with the lack of definition between right and wrong, justice and revenge.

The air hung silent, moments passing with nobody moving, every eye scanning the floor, deep in thought. Suddenly there was a whirl of movement. Hope’s body doubled up, and Claudia reached forward to grab her, hold her up. A scream echoed round the room, animal pain, and, finally working out what was going on, Krein, Rick and Dawn all watched as Claudia lay the groaning woman on the floor, checking her pulse. “Get an ambulance, she’s in cardiac arrest. Now!”

Krein rushed across the room to radio for help away from the commotion, and the siblings dropped down to the floor, side by side, both apprehensive. Rick was distressed, eyes wide and desperate. “She’s gonna be okay, right?”

BOOK: Hope's Vengeance
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