Justifiable Homicide

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13

He'd been her abductor. Now it was his turn to get fucked. He was digging a hole. It was a fresh hole adjacent to a grave that was already there. He was digging with a pine branch as a shovel. It was slow work. He was sweating. He was bleeding from his gut. Blood was dripping down to his pants. It was dripping into the earth. He had dirt and blood on his face where he'd rubbed himself.

“You can't do this, you know,” he said. “You'll get yourself caught. It's not easy to kill a man. It's a burden. You won't be able to live with it.”

“And what made you think it would be easy?” She was standing six feet away. She was pointing the gun at him. It was getting cold for her, not wearing any pants. But she wasn't going to leave until the job was done.

“That's different,” he said. “I had it all planned out. You was gonna to have a good life with me. I woulda' taken care of you. Treated you good. Now you shot me. I'm gonna die here, you don't get me to a hospital. That's murder in the first degree. A felony. Capital murder. ”

“Stop talking. I don't want to hear any more. And it's self-defense, asshole.” She didn't believe the last part, about self-defense. This was murder she had in mind. But it was justified, wasn't it? After everything the man had done?

She held the gun with two hands. It was starting to feel heavy. The hole was only two feet deep. It was uneven. It needed to be deeper. “Keep digging,” she said.

The man looked at her. He was pale. His digging was getting weak. And he was so much weaker than he had been when he'd carried her over his shoulder to the metal cage in the warehouse. Now he was a dying man hunched over with his stick. Digging his own grave.

He was slowing down. He was losing blood.

He dug until the sun was low. It was late afternoon. The hole got deeper, until finally it was deep enough.


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