Hillary_Retribution

by Angel Gelique

  “Sure ya can, sugar.”

  “After you left home, where did you go?”

  Miss Billie nodded in acknowledgement of an unspoken truth. She knew that Hillary had suffered a similar travesty.

  “Well, ya know, I had no money, no place to go. I just set off walkin’ ‘til my weary feet couldn’t carry me no mo.’ I ended up in another small racist town with white folks givin’ me the evil eye and callin’ me all sorts o’ bad names. One man told me if I didn’t shove off he gonna put a bullet in my head. He would have too, fo’ sure if another white gentleman ain’t been kind ‘nough ta help me. Surprised the bejesus outta me, sure did. ‘Magine my surprise when here I’s expectin’ ta get shot an’ instead, some old white man stick his hand out fo’ me to take.”

  “What did you do?” Hillary asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  Miss Billie smiled.

  “I did somethin’ I never expected ta do. I took that white man’s hand. I mean, what choice did I have? Seemed like the lesser o’ two evils at the time. For all I knew that man coulda taken me somewhere and beaten me senseless...or worse. But I had faith. I trusted in God and left it in His hands. And ya know what? I heard the voice.”

  Hillary’s eyes widened even more.

  “You heard the voice?” She asked in wonder.

  “I sure did, praise The Lord, I heard the voice.”

  “What did it tell you to do?” Hillary asked eagerly.

  “He told me that I could trust the man, that the man was doin’ His work.”

  “It was a man’s voice, the voice you heard?”

  Miss Billie laughed aloud.

  “Child, it was The Lord himself spoke ta Miss Billie. He saved my wretched life.”

  “No, it can’t be...it just doesn’t make sense.”

  “What, child? I dunno what ya mean....”

  “What if the voice had told you to...to do something bad?”

  “Oh, no, child. The Lord ain’t gonna lead someone ta wickedness. Don’t ya know ‘bout our Lord and Savior?”

  “But what if a voice told a person to hurt someone? To really hurt someone badly?”

  “That ain’t no voice of God, child...that the voice o’ Satan.”

  Miss Billie continued talking but Hillary wasn’t listening. She was too busy thinking about the voice that had spoken to her. The voice that had saved her from her father’s abuse at a hefty price. The voice that had compelled her to murder her family and several others. The voice of Satan....

  ~4~

  Jake and Patty drifted further apart with each passing day. Jake knew that his marriage was falling apart, he simply didn’t care. He wasn’t a man so how could he be a husband? Despite Patty’s assurance that she loved him and that they could get beyond this “hurdle,” as she had called it, Jake knew that things would never again be the same between them. Even with her suggestions and creative ideas on how they could rekindle their sex life—some of them downright bizarre—Jake felt that Patty was just feeling sorry for him. It was a blow to his already crushed ego.

  It seemed like all they ever did was argue, even over the pettiest of things. Last night it had been about spinach. As Jake picked at his chicken Florentine casserole, he shoved the spinach to the side of the plate. Patty frowned. His appetite had been horrendous. He had lost several pounds just within the few days that he had been home from the hospital.

  “Why aren’t you eating your spinach?” Patty complained.

  Jake stared at her in disbelief. Was she really going to give him a hard time over spinach?

  “I just don’t feel like eating spinach tonight,” he replied calmly, containing the outrage that was brewing within him like a bad storm.

  “Jake, you know you need to stay healthy, you need to regain your strength, you need to—”

  “Just shut up, Patty,” he shouted angrily. “Just get off my back. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. You move me out of my house and into this tiny dump and expect me to be happy about it? And you hover over me like I’m an infant, why don’t you just leave me alone?”

  “I just want to help you, I love you Jake. I want my husband back,” Patty answered, her voice shaky.

  “Oh, so that’s it? You think you can feed me protein-rich spinach, and what, it will make my penis grow back? You think it’ll make me strong and virile? Potent?”

  “I just want you to be healthy,” Patty sobbed. “Why do you have to over-analyze everything?”

  Seeing her mother upset, Amber began to cry.

  “Great,” Jake said in frustration. “I can’t even have ten minutes of peace and quiet in this place.”

  He shoved his plate aside and left the small eat-in kitchen. Patty mollified Amber with soothing words and promises as she fought to suppress her own tears. She had to put on a happy face for Amber. The poor girl had witnessed so much shouting and fighting, she had started having nightmares. Amber had just about settled down when the sound of the front door slamming shut caused her to jump and become upset all over again.

  It wasn’t the first time Jake had left the apartment in an angry fit without saying anything to Patty. It had been just another topic for argument, his thoughtlessness and indifference. In the past when they had argued, he had always been diplomatic. Like a good psychiatrist, he had always taken her feelings into consideration, had always empathized with her and had even apologized on one or two occasions when he had felt he wasn’t even the one at fault.

  The new Jake didn’t care about anything or anyone, least of all himself. He had spiraled into a depression as deep as the ocean and just as erratic. Patty had tried her best to be patient, to be understanding. She knew how difficult it had been for him. Despite the fact that he continued to deny Hillary’s existence, Patty was convinced that she was alive and out there somewhere. When she wasn’t waking up from a nightmare involving the murderous teenager, she was waking up to Jake’s horrified screams in the night. Who else but Hillary Greyson could evoke such terror?

  It was nearly two in the morning when Jake finally arrived home and staggered into bed without bothering to wash up or even undress.

  “Where have you been?” Patty questioned him, though she could tell from the smell of alcohol that wherever he had gone, there had been plenty of drinking involved.

  “Gimme a break,” he said caustically. “What do you think, I was out cheating on you? Really? Hate to remind you again, Patty dear, but I’m no longer equipped to do such things.”

  “Oh, get over it, Jake, it’s happened, it’s done with and now you have to deal with it.”

  “Deal with it? Deal with it? Do you have any idea what it’s like—no, how could you? How could you? How dare you minimize my feelings?”

  “I’m not, Jake, I’m only saying—”

  “Because I can’t just deal with it...there’s a part of me, an essential part of me, that’s gone and it affects practically every aspect of my life. I have a vagina, Patty...a freakin’ vagina, for Christ’s sake...I have to squat when I urinate...I no longer have a libido, though that’s probably a good thing since I can no longer make love to my wife. I—”

  “You’re just having a pity party and it won’t do any good, Jake, you have to accept the fact that you’re different now.”

  “I can’t, Patty, I can’t accept it. I wish I hadn’t survived.”

  “How can you say that? Don’t you care about your family? We love you, Jake.”

  Jake’s face was wet with tears. He wiped them away angrily. It was bad enough he resembled a girl below the waist, he didn’t need to cry like one too.

  “Hold me, Jake...please....”

  Jake shook his head and pulled away as Patty reached for him.

  “Don’t,” he said sternly. “I don’t want to be touched.”

  “I’m not trying to get you to do anything, I—”

  “Like what, Patty? What could I possibly do? Are you trying to patronize me?”

  “You know me better than that, don’t you Ja
ke? I’m just trying to offer you some comfort.”

  “Well I don’t need comfort.”

  “Well maybe I do....”

  “You’re just trying to pity me...oh, poor sexless she-man, wife-husband of mine....”

  “You’ve turned into a real jerk, Jake, and if you keep it up, you’ll be on your own.”

  Patty turned her back to Jake and closed her teary eyes. She didn’t think their marriage could survive this new challenge. She thought about how they had been trying to have another child. They had wanted a son so badly. Now it wouldn’t be possible unless they adopted and she knew that Jake would never consider that.

  Jake didn’t care about being on his own, in fact, he preferred it now. In the morning he would pack a few things and leave. It would be better for Patty and Amber. He had become too bitter and hostile to be with them. He had just barely enough decency left within him to know that they would be better off without him...without his negativity and cruel outbursts. Amber had been miserable every time he was around. Not that he blamed the small child, kids were especially attuned to even the slightest tension in the air and their new, small apartment had been overflowing with it.

  Jake didn’t quite have any long-term goals. He had thought far enough ahead to know that he would drain the family’s “emergency” account and live off those funds until he accomplished his mission. He would go to the bank first thing in the morning then hit the road once he had the money. He wouldn’t say anything to Patty. She would only try to stop him, to convince him that they would find a way…that their love was stronger than their setback.

  Setback. That’s the word she constantly used and it infuriated him. What did she think? That penises regenerated? That this was just a temporary thing? That somehow in a few weeks or months he’d start sprouting a new penis? Yes, he was angry and bitter and hateful, but she was acting downright stupid. He couldn’t stand to be around her and her insensitivity and lack of understanding. There was no way she could ever comprehend how much had been taken from him—his essence itself, the very core of his being. He wasn’t just being superficial. If he had lost a limb, even two limbs, he would be able to accept his dilemma and start the healing process. But losing his genitals, his manhood? What was left? Hillary might as well have ripped out his heart because all that was left was an empty shell of a person, a sad reminder of a life no longer attainable.

  Though he did have some reservation about leaving Amber, his resolve to fulfill his mission trumped even his enduring love for his precious daughter. She was young, she would get over it. If not, hell, he knew a dozen competent child psychiatrists and psychologists who could help her.

  He sneered in the dark as the thought jogged his memory of something else Patty had said to him during one of their many “discussions” a.k.a. arguments.

  “You have to get help,” she had declared, just as nonchalantly as if she had made a suggestion to go to the movies.

  “I’ll be fine,” he barked angrily, wanting nothing more than to burst into flames on the spot to spare him the humiliation and aggravation the conversation would undoubtedly leave him feeling.

  “How about Dr. Kendall?”

  “I said I’ll be fine,” he snapped even louder, hoping she would drop the subject, but knowing all too well that she would persist.

  “Jake, you’re a psychiatrist, you know firsthand how important it is for people to seek the help that they need.”

  “That’s right, Patty, even penis-less I’m still a psychiatrist. Thanks for validating that.”

  “It’s not all about your penis, Jake!”

  “Will you just leave me alone? Christ, Patty, you need to get off my back and give me some time to think about things.”

  “You’re over-thinking things,” she said, her face reddened and blotchy. “You need to see a psychiatrist, maybe some medicine—”

  “Oh, now you know what’s best for me? Medicine, huh? Yeah, maybe Viagara. That ought to do the trick.”

  “You don’t have to be so sarcastic...so hateful....”

  “What do you expect? You haven’t given me a moment of peace since I got home...or rather, to this little shithole, because this is not home, Patty and it’s certainly not helping anything.”

  “I’m not going back to our house, Jake, not while Hillary is still out there.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it any further, Patty, just leave me alone.”

  “Not until you promise to see Dr. Kendall.”

  “Like you said, I’m a psychiatrist, I can take care of myself.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Jake, you know you can’t treat yourself.”

  “I’ll be fine, Patty!” Jake shouted irately, the explosive roar of his voice waking Amber from her nap.

  “You call that fine, Jake?” Patty continued, adding to Jake’s rapidly-peaking frustration.

  Jake had never struck a woman in his entire life. It had never even been a fleeting thought in his mind. Yet at that moment, he fantasized about wrapping his fingers tightly around Patty’s skinny neck and squeezing until she finally shut up. She was still rattling on when the fantasy dissipated and he tuned in to her again. Amber was once again screaming and crying, adding a new layer to his stress.

  “...if you would just listen to reason,” Patty had finished saying after giving her unheard lecture. She stared desperately into Jake’s eyes waiting for a response.

  Jake knew she would not relent. The only way to pacify her and shut her up, aside from strangling her—as tempting as it was—would be to agree to make an appointment with Dr. Kendall.

  “Fine,” he spat. “Whatever you say.”

  Patty wrapped her arms around him and he quickly pulled away. Human contact was the last thing he wanted. He could still see the look of hurt and sadness all over her face. His former self would have been overcome with guilt. He would have apologized and made her understand that he was just lashing out because of all that had happened, all that he had to deal with that he hadn’t even come close to coming to terms with. He would have felt the need to at least explain himself, if not make her understand how miserable he was feeling. But instead of comforting her, he had glared malignantly at her as he turned and walked away, leaving her in tears.

  Even now as he relived the memory, Jake felt little sympathy for his disheartened wife. Sure, he knew that he loved her, of course he did. But right now his heart was blackened with hate and anger. There was just one way to rid his body of that poison. He knew what he had to do and he would do it, if it was the last thing he ever did.

  He turned to his side, with his back to Patty and stared at the green glow on his digital clock. It was already 2:18. He felt physically exhausted but he was mentally to wired to relax. Thanks to Patty, the good buzz he had going from the alcohol he had consumed was all but gone. He knew that if he didn’t control his growing hostility, he would end up hating her. That’s why it was best for him to leave, to get away from the family he once loved so dearly. It was for their sake....

  Sure, his internal devil’s advocate challenged. Jake didn’t care. He didn’t need to make excuses.

  Fine! He screamed in his mind. It’s all for me, I’m a selfish bastard and I don’t care...I’m going to find that psycho cunt and kill her.

  Jake exhaled deeply. His pressure was up. He had to calm down.

  No, he hissed to himself, I won’t kill her...not right away. I’ll torture her just as she tortured me.

  Jake thought about all the things that he would do to Hillary when he found her. He could not shut his mind off enough to welcome sleep. He tossed and turned and kept looking at the numbers on the clock counting away any hope he had for a restful night.

  Though he was still both physically and mentally exhausted, Jake awoke with a splitting headache at exactly 5:12 a.m. before the sun made its debut. Careful not to wake Patty, he crept out of bed and slowly walked to the bathroom. Normally, he would strip free of his clothes and take a nice warm shower. But normal Jake was lo
ng gone, with no return in sight. He didn’t want to take off his clothes because he couldn’t stand to see himself naked. It was bad enough that his daily bathroom habits were a constant reminder of his humiliation. He sat down and urinated, growing red in the face with resentment and shame, keeping his eyes from looking down at his barren crotch.

  He had planned to pack a few things, but changed his mind. He just wanted to get out of there, turn the page on the chapter of his life that he could no longer live. He would buy whatever he needed when he was on the road.

  Jake washed his hands and face, brushed his teeth, shoved his wet toothbrush into the pocket of his pants, splashed some aftershave on his neck then exited the bathroom. He walked silently to the foyer where his car keys and awaited him. He snatched it up quickly and left the house, closing the front door quietly behind him.

  Though it was too early for the bank to be open, Jake had a plan. He would drive to the state park fifteen minutes away and walk along the trail. The air was crisp with the promise of purging those hot summer days and embracing the impending autumn serenity. Jake always loved this subtle transition into fall, when the air was replete with possibility. For him, it was autumn, not spring, that represented rebirth and resurrection.

  Jake drove with all of the windows of his Chevrolet Tahoe open. Even in the midst of his shattered life, the smell of the fresh, dewy-rich air filling his lungs invigorated him. His head felt clearer than it had since his nightmare had started, though rational thought still eluded him. As far as he was concerned, what he intended to do was rational. It was the only thing that made sense in his meaningless life now.

  Jake knew that the state park would not be open and that he would be trespassing. Still, he parked his car on a side street and walked down to the spot where vandals—teen-aged delinquents, no doubt—had clipped through the chain-link fencing to gain illegal access. Jake had known about this spot because he had counseled a young girl who would sneak out in the middle of the night to meet her drug addicted boyfriend here. He wondered, briefly, if he would encounter them today.

  As Jake stepped onto the narrow dirt path surrounded by dense foliage, another more ominous thought occurred to him. What if Hillary herself was somewhere within these woods? He knew how much she loved the woods, how the dense forest had served as her haven from her abusive home. It was a very real possibility that Hillary could be lurking about somewhere along the very trail he currently wandered. What would he do if he spotted her? Would it send those horrific memories rushing to his brain to cripple him where he stood? Or would he have the strength to do what had to be done? He carried no weapon with him, just his car keys.