Yellow Ghost: La Femme Selita Prequel (4 page)

Mr. Charles Moyer was my music teacher so getting him right where I wanted him wouldn’t be hard. I played piano but it was mostly for show. I had a few Beethoven and Mozart pieces I perfected. I had no desire to become anything associated with the music field. Father thought playing an instrument was a sign of being culturally sophisticated. I learned to bang the keys at his urging but the truth was any child could learn an instrument. Playing an instrument didn’t make me any better than anyone else. There were plenty of homeless people playing sax, guitar and whatever else for pennies on the street corners and alleys of the inner city. My Father is a smart man but on many things our views differ.

It only took me a few weeks to establish a friendly rapport with Mr. Moyer. He liked young girls and I made sure I played the role of an innocent. I should be afraid to take a life. I’m not. This was a right of passage for me. I would do this all on my own and only tell my Father afterwards so he could dispose of the body.

My afterschool visits to Mr. Moyer’s classroom were escalating. He was running his routine on me. He started off with innocent conversation that soon turned intrusive. These conversations then turned sexual in nature. The not so harmless touching started. A hand on my shoulder, a hand on my back, he was textbook.

I used my virginity as my bait. He was hooked. I flirted with him and lured him just like I’m sure he lured others. I was ready and confident. One Friday afternoon I decided to go for it.

I sat in a chair at the side of his desk. We shared a chocolate bar that the music department was selling in their annual fundraiser. I bought the candy bar. I didn’t trust Mr. Moyer to feed me anything. He offered me ice cream once. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t drug it. After all he is a pedophile. I don’t trust many people.

“You really love chocolate.” He stated more than he asked.

“I do.” I grinned. “It feels really good in my mouth, the way it melts.”

He was staring at my lips. “Do you like when things melt in your mouth?”

“Yeah, I think I like it a lot.” I licked a melted piece of chocolate from my fingertip. Mr. Moyer swallowed hard. “Remember we were talking about how the first time feels good when the person you’re with is experienced.”

“I remember.” He leaned closer to me.

“Mr. Moyer I want you to teach me how to make love.”

“I don’t think you’re ready.” He teased for his own sick pleasure.

“I’m like, so ready.”

“Why me?”

“What?”

“Why do you want me to be your first?”

I want to prove to my father I can do it. I can kill him. I want to prove something to myself. I can do it. “Because you’re handsome and smart.” Lies! He’s an old gross, disgusting and pathetic man.

“The first time may hurt a little before it starts to feel good.”

“I know that but I’m ready. I want my first time to be with a mature man and not a little boy. I know that you can understand that.”

“I’m definitely mature and experienced.”

“Yeah you are.”

“You have to understand things like this have to be kept a secret.”

“Mr. Moyer I would never tell anyone.”

I had him right were I wanted him. I let him see my breasts and that sealed the deal. I gave him all the information he needed to book a room at a seedy hotel in town. He never questioned why I picked the place. He never asked why I even knew it existed. I offered an explanation to cover my bases. I told him the hotel was close to the apartment I shared with my family. My background was fabricated. I was one of five children born to a single mother. I told him I could sneak out the apartment and met him there.

He had no idea I lived in a mansion on the other side of town. He didn’t really know anything about me. His mind was fixated on his perverted thoughts. This made it impossible for him to see the obvious. I was acting well above any B list actress. This charade was bullshit. He would be my first kill. Maybe I shouldn’t be so happy about it but I was elated.

Father had me properly trained with weapons and a few other pertinent skills. I had never shot an actual person but I had gone hunting to refine my kill-shot and take a stab at moving breathing targets. It was easy to shoot at a piece of paper. It was exhilarating shooting an animal. But a person would prove challenging. I refuse to fail. I never fail.

I lured him to the hotel and I put a bullet in him before he could even cop a serious feel off my breasts. I used a silencer. The blood was somewhat contained. I shot him at close range. I concealed the gun in my baggy jeans.

Mr. Moyer disappeared without a trace. I sent him to early retirement. His was my first but I was sure he wouldn’t be my last. I was no savior of the young or vigilante but it felt good to remove him from the planet. I was responsible for removing a child predator from this earth. I succeeded where others had failed. I’m not sure if they ever really tried.

I was on a high for a long time after my first kill. Father was proud of me. It was our secret. Father cleaned up my mess. I had a lesson in how to dispose of a dead body. I watched and took mental notes.

17 YEARS OLD

I started High School at fourteen and graduated at seventeen. I didn’t walk the stage in a cap in gown. That was never my goal. I was leaving everything and everybody behind. Having connections with people was a hindrance. Father taught me that. Before I went into the next phase in my life I needed to go back to the beginning.

It all started at Cherry Street Elementary School. I got my driver’s license last year and a Mercedes for my sixteenth birthday. I didn’t drive much. My Father preferred my bodyguard slash chauffeur Percy drove me around. Percy was a weird character. I didn’t fear him but I didn’t like him. Something was off with him. I was old enough to drive. I was old enough go off by myself. It proved difficult but on occasion I would sneak away by myself. Today I ditched Percy to drive myself to Cherry Street Elementary School.

Security at my old elementary school was a joke. Their computer system was old and outdated. It was easy for me to break into the system and get all the information I needed to gain access. I walked the vacant halls in search of room 103.

I knocked on the open door. I walked in to see her almost exactly as I remembered her.

“Mrs. Wilson.” I tried to sound warm. I’ve been told I’m a little standoffish.

“Yes.” She smiled and her dark brown skin hadn’t aged much at all. I remembered how pretty she was. She still is but her hair was shorter back then.

“I don’t think you will remember me but I was a former student of yours.” I slowly walked up to her desk. I took in my surroundings. I am overly observant but I can’t help it.

“I’m not sure. You have to give me a hint. Have a seat.” She pointed to the chair by her desk.

I sat down. “I was in your first grade class many, many years ago. My name is Selita Hil--”

“Hilton, I remember you.” Her eyes grew wide and bright. It was clear she did actually remember me. She couldn’t fake that kind of awareness.

“You remember me after all these years?”

“Yes you look the same. You were the smartest kid I had in my class, maybe the smartest ever. You loved to read.”

“Yes, I still do.”

“I never found out what happened to you. I kept in touch with the social worker for a while but then she just stopped returning my calls. It has always worried me. Did you know I was the one that reported you to child services?”

“Yes I knew.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. I wasn’t being taken care of properly.”

“I hope things worked out.”

“As you know I went into the foster care system and I was adopted shortly away.”

“To a good family I hope.”

“Yes a very good family. I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For getting me out of my extremely unstable environment. You could have ignored my dire situation and just taught your class. You didn’t. I’m grateful. I was only six so I didn’t know my mother was a drug addict and prostitute amongst other things. I may not be here if you didn’t step in and do something.”

“It was really hard for me to do that. Despite her illness I remember your mother was a very nice lady.”

I rolled my eyes. Yeah right, Martika nice.

“I can understand it being a hard decision but thank you. I’m moving away for awhile and I wanted to make sure I said thank you.”

“You’re so welcomed dear. I’m proud of you. I’m just glad things worked out for you.”

“Yes they did.”

“So you’re moving away?”

“I was accepted to Harvard Law. So I’m moving to Boston, well Cambridge.”

“Oh my that is great. That’s better than great. I don’t think this school has ever produced a Harvard bound child.”

“Mrs. Wilson I know that you have done a lot to help educate the lower class children in this community. I have followed your career.”

“You have?” She was shocked.

“My adopted father is a wealthy man and that makes me wealthy. I hacked into your bank account and deposited a large sum of money.” Her mouth hung open but she didn’t speak. “It’s enough money to buy a new car and maybe you could even retire early. I think you like teaching so I’m not sure you would do that but you could if you like.”

“Is this a joke?” She tried to laugh but my composed face made that gesture damn near impossible.

“No it’s not a joke.” I’m not sure I ever joke. It’s just a few thousand dollars. More than a few but she can find that out on her own when she accesses her bank account.

Her face mirrored mine the way it hung resting with no expression. “Selita I don’t understand.”

“There is nothing to understand. I wouldn’t have had this wealth of fortune. I wouldn’t have been accepted to Harvard if you didn’t step in. I would probably be dead or a junkie hooker. I owe you.”

“I just can’t take money from students, even former students.” She tried to chuckle but missed the mark.

“You have to take the money. It’s a gift. It would be rude to try to refuse it. I remember you as a very nice teacher.”

“Well.” She searched for words. “This is such an odd reunion.”

“I agree but you deserve to have a little future security. You were one of the only people in my past that give a damn about me. I remember you sharing your lunch with me. I remember you combing my hair when my mother hadn’t bothered. It was nice seeing you again Mrs. Wilson.”

I was out the door before she could say anything else. Now I need to start my life as an adult.

Just as I suspected life had thrown me a curveball. There was nothing that would stop me from going to Boston. Something dreadful happened that I would never be in the mood to discuss. I didn’t plan it but it happened. I had to add someone else to my list. Now there are two dead bodies on my list and in my past.

This time things were different. It was self-defense. I made a mess and I cleaned it up myself. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

Now I keep secrets from Father. He doesn’t have to know everything. I am learning to handle things myself. I feel like I am in transition. I am going from a girl to a woman. I embrace this because I refuse to be afraid.

My life had been split into different parts of the country. I lived in Massachusetts and California. I was a Harvard Law student most of the year. I was my Father’s daughter the other part of the year. I was a trained killer, a master in weaponry and I had a little demolition training. I sometimes forget that I am a damn good hacker.

I felt somewhat accomplished. I was good at all things criminal. I was excellent in my academic achievements but I was still a virgin. No man had ever gotten anywhere near third base.

I had many opportunities to have sex but for some reason I was always reluctant. It probably stemmed from my mother’s former profession. She was a whore and I never ever wanted to be tossed in the same category as the devil. I never wanted to use my sexuality for gain. But that was a lie. I used my sexuality on Mr. Moyer.

I never wanted to be taken advantage of. A rapist was the lowest form of human. I had an experience that I refuse to think about and talk about. I sometimes think of it but he was kill number two so why dwell on the past.

I stayed away from drugs. A fair share of college kids indulge but I steered clear. My mother is the reason. Men use drugs to lower a woman’s inhibitions. I will always say no to drugs.

I vowed that I would never sell my body or give my pussy away so freely. I hated Martika for putting all these limitations on me. Even in death I had no choice but to think about her. Too alter myself for the sake of history not repeating itself. Can I hate anyone more than I hate her?

I decided to have sex just like I decided to go to Harvard. It was time to lose my virginity. I just wasn’t sure if I was going to give it to my college professor. He hadn’t shown any interest in me but I appreciated and thrived off a challenge.