A Story by Becky Lawrence

This is inspired by the lyrics of the song "Kristy Killings".

Her heels click on the sidewalk, a rhythmic beat keeping her thoughts at a steady tempo. She pictures his face in her mind, the handsome face that she fell in love with so foolishly. But now that doesn't matter anymore. Everything that happened doesn't matter. Because she's got a 9mm that will make sure nothing from that time comes back to haunt her. This is revenge.
The door to the apartment opens without a sound. All the lights are out. She doesn't care if he knows she is there, so she turns on every light as she walks through. When she gets to the bedroom she stands in the doorway silently instead of switching on the light. He lays in the bed, drunk and passed out. She frowns. This won't do. She can't kill him in his sleep, not after what he did to her.
Her hand finds the pistol in her pocket and lightly runs her finger along the barrel until she finds the trigger. She switches on the lights and walks to the bedside table. A bottle of Jack sits there half drank and three more empty ones litter the floor. She picks up the half full one and unscrews the cap. She takes a few sips and pours the rest on his face. He wakes with a start and tries to figure out what is happening.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Her blood red lips form a smile but her icy cold blue eyes only see murder.
"What? F**k. Why the hell are you here? I f*****g killed you!" He tries to sit up, but she presses the pistol to his head.
"I'm here to take back the life you stole from me." Her smile doesn't fade and the words she speaks have an impossible kindness to them, but they still have a poison bite that he can't get away from. "You wasted twenty years of my life. You threw that all away, hell, you didn't care from the start, but you let me believe you did. And now, I'm here to take that all back in the only way I can."
"This is all a bad dream. It's the meth! I took to large of a dose. She's dead. I strangled her last week..." He scrambles to figure out what might be causing this.
"Oh, you did kill me. And that's why I'm here." The smile grows.
"This is impossible!" He tries to back away, but he's already against the wall.
"I beg to differ, honey." And she pulls the trigger. It doesn't matter if the neighbors hear and if she leaves evidence behind. She's f*****g dead.
"Good night, darling." She tosses the pistol down onto the bedside table. The demons promised her that her finger prints would be on everything, they wouldn't change a single thing at the murder scene. It would leave the investigators baffled. How does a dead woman kill her husband?
She goes into the kitchen and takes a bottle of rum from the cupboard. She takes the cap off and drinks the last few shots worth. While she's alive for this short while she can't go without some of the things she had before death.
As she leaves she doesn't close the door. She does everything she can to make the police find him sooner. She wants the whole world to know what he did to her, and she wants the whole world to know that she got revenge.

© 2011 Becky Lawrence

Author's Note

Becky Lawrence
I don't even know what my mind is doing right now. I've had a fever for a week now and my thought process is pretty much fucked. Sorry if it sucks.

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very interested, yet it doesn't really send me chills, try to extend it by adding more sensory stuff, aka the 5 senses. the taste of the rum, the fear that engulf the man, etc

Posted 9 Years Ago

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Added on June 28, 2011
Last Updated on June 28, 2011


Becky Lawrence
Becky Lawrence

I've been writing since seventh grade. It started as a hobby and became an addiction. I have become an insomniac because of the thoughts and ideas going on in my head. I will read most read request.. more..