The Woman Behind the Mask

Monday, January 28th, 2019

Everyone has a story.

An explanation for why they are the way they are.

A justification for their screwed-up actions.

“I told you, you wouldn't survive me.” I smile at the trembling man before me.

Almost two years ago, our positions were completely reversed. I was the one trying to escape the death he was certain he would deliver. But today, there will be a different outcome.

I survived.

He won't.

My grip on the suppressed Beretta remains steady. I've bided my time for this moment. Nothing will ruin it.

Tonight, death will be dealt by my hand.

“You’ll--you’ll regret this,” the balding man stutters.

He cowers away, sweat beading on his forehead.

“You should've killed me that night." I wave the gun around. "It would've saved you a lot of trouble. And your life.”

“Wait!” he shouts. “If you do this, my son will come after you and everyone you love!”

I laugh.

He must not know about his son yet.

“You already killed everyone I love." The smile vanishes, my features returning to stone. "And which son? The one who’s dead, or the one in love with me?" I step up to him. "There’s no hope for you.”

“Have mercy!” he pleads.

So pathetic.

I shake my head.

He takes a shuddering breath, finally coming to terms with his fate. “What about your parents?”

I purse my lips. “They’re as dead to me as you’re about to be.”

Nothing can save him.

“Don’t you fear anything?”

Myself.

I pull the trigger.

The bullet pierces his skull, dead between the eyes.

There is nothing more dangerous than a scorned woman hellbent on revenge, with nothing left to lose and no one left to love.

Everyone has a story.