Prologue
He grabbed her flailing legs and pinned them on her chest. She tries screaming but he ties her mouth with her own green sock. The warehouse stood in the outskirts of the city where no one went; for a walk or for secret affairs. It was owned by the town’s water supplier - Monsieur Hank.
No one knew the reason why he was introduced with a French form of address.
She tried escaping his hold by violently moving her arms, but he held them tightly in one hand while the other one undid his zippers. Once done, he forced himself inside her. Tears streamed down her eyes but she couldn’t do anything now. He was inside her and she was tied.
All she wanted was this to be over.
After he ejaculated, he pushed her off the table and pulled up his pants. Her shoulders were shaking after she came to terms with reality. Blood covered her legs, purple bruises marked various parts of the body.
“Get on will ya!” He barked at her but she could not move. He bent down and pulled her up. Eyeliner and mascara formed dark lines on her cheeks; evident she was crying. “I don’t want nunya business in public! Get it?” He barks enough and she patiently nods.
The consequences of getting this out was heavier than what happened in the Hank warehouse. The police would be asking her questions unrelated to the incident, the society will be doubting her innocence, and her mother would hate her more than she did. In a nutshell, she would be raped once again.
If she wanted justice served, she would have to prepare the dishes and serve it to herself.
The next few weeks passed in deliberate reticence. No one spoke a word. Maybe, he thought, she was scared of him. And wanted nothing more than quietude herself. It would be a shame to just conquer her body once. The cruel thoughts made him laugh at his own oral jest. Next time, she could go down on him.
As time slowly crept on, she sharpened her butcher’s knife with sandpaper. It was hard for her to see the person who had raped her roam around freely with no chain tied to their ankles. While, she was busy studying his daily routine, he was rambling down the streets with no worries.
Three months had gone by in an observant waiting. It was time for the snake to strike and inject its poison into the victim.
She lay behind a tree, accustomed to his usual routine. He would pass this spot at exactly eight thirty. The owls above hooted, cheering her, or they were trying to alert the oncoming passerby. Who was listening to loud music with earbuds on.
Reminiscing about her past few months, she sees the opportunity and strikes a stone at him. It hits him directly on his head. Immediately he stops the bike and calls out, “Who’t there?” She ducks behind the bush careful enough to not make any noise.
Even if she did, it would have been hard for him to distinguish her from the dark; black jeans, black shirt, black hoodie, black gloves, black beanie. All the efforts were made in concealing her porcelain skin and green hair.
He is about to mount his bike when she yet throws another one. Furious, he releases the bike with power and calls again, “Who the fuck is there?” Seeing that there is no other option, she rises from behind the bush and smiles. That smile irks the living hell out of him and he marches towards her, his arms in a violently harmonious rhythm.
Before he could force himself onto her, his stomach meets the sharp point of metal. He has walked straight into it. She lifts her knee and hits him in the groin. He falls down in pain; the knife still stuck in him makes a gaping wound inside his body. The excruciating pain blinds him and he falls down unconscious.
Kneeling down beside him, she gouges his eyes out, and then the next. And before one could vocalize the entire Alphabet Soup, she had ripped his arms and legs. Carrying him the dumpster behind the school was the next big task.
But, it didn’t matter. She had help. Apollo appeared from behind the tree with a large black polythene bag. “The car is ready. Artemis will come and clean the blood once we’re gone,” he whispers, slowly rustling the plastic. She nods and loads the bag with his parts - the torso and then the right leg and then the left leg and then both the arms and finally his two eyes.
“How will she clean up the blood?” The Southern accent was distinct in her speech, “It has stained the grass.”
Apollo dismisses her concern, “Artemis knows shit. I don’t know how, but she has done research. She creeps me out.”
She laughs, “Says the guy who is carrying a plastic bag full of human body parts.”
“Touche."
