Hillary_Retribution

by Angel Gelique

  Yet, as Jake walked along the darkened trail immersed in his fantasy, he knew that his best weapon was something he always carried with him: his vengeful compulsion. He was ready for her. And if he should happen to find her somewhere in the deep, secluded woods, he wouldn’t hesitate to strike.

  Without realizing it, Jake picked up his pace as he conjured up images of himself attacking Hillary. He would use his physical strength to tackle her to the ground. Then he would break her arms and legs, rendering her immobile. He’d watch as she squirmed and writhed in pain. She would cry and beg for her life while he laughed aloud and mocked her pain. He would use his keys to damage that flawless pink flesh on her beautiful face. But why stop there? He would inflict painful wounds all over her taut little body and paint her body with her blood.

  Would she worry that he would rape her? Would he give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had stolen his manhood? That she had completely and utterly ruined his life for good? Jake slowed to a near-sluggish pace as waves of depression and hopelessness washed over him.

  His flight of fancy lost in his morose state, he trudged forward as he thought about how Patty would react to his absence. What would she tell Amber? How long would she wait for him to return before she moved on with her life? Would she divorce him and remarry?

  He didn’t know it was possible, but Jake slipped even further into the formidable clutch of depression. As a psychiatrist, he had often delved into the minds of his depressed patients, probing therein in search of the keys to unlock their misery. He never fully understood how they could feel so terminally hopeless. He recalled how, on many occasions, he believed his patients were just attention-seeking and emotionally needy. He had truly believed that they just needed constant reassurance and praise.

  His mind brought forth a mental image of Marla Armenetti, a young single mother from an upper-class family who had sought his help for depression.

  “I’m just sad all the time,” she had told him during their first session. “I have no desire to do anything...it’s a huge effort just to get out of bed and even then I do it only because I have to take care of Jay...and sometimes...sometimes I just don’t even care to do that. It’s like there’s no point, no purpose....”

  Jake remembered the frustration he felt each session as she continued to whine about how meaningless life was. He resented her lackadaisical attitude. She was young and pretty and had plenty of money. Doors were open for her, opportunities just waiting to be taken. How dare she be so ungrateful when there were real people actually suffering in the world?

  “I’m hurting,” she cried, real tears falling from her hazel eyes. “It feels like I’m suffocating, like I can’t breathe anymore. What do I do, Dr. Bentley? How can I make myself feel happy?”

  Stone-faced and apathetic, he had handed her a box of tissues.

  “You need to want to be happy, Marla. You need to stop looking for reasons to be miserable and go out there and enjoy life,” he advised her.

  It was the last time Jake saw her. She went out there alright...all the way out on the limb of a building two hundred feet up. Jake had wondered what her last thoughts were as she flung her body to the ground. Had she found peace and meaning at last? Or was it just another empty expression of her woeful life?

  Jake had thought it was the most selfish thing a person could do—give up like that, leaving friends and family behind to mourn the loss. Now as he walked along the trail and contemplated it, he didn’t feel all too different from Marla. He finally understood her dire despair, her crippling hopelessness. He even understood how suicide had become the sensible option. It was an escape from the pain. When you feel like you’re already dead, what else do you have to lose?

  Jake couldn’t deny entertaining similar thoughts while he wallowed alone in his gaping sinkhole of self-pity and loathing. How close had he come to slitting his wrists, with only thoughts of the lingering pain to deter him? Had he owned a gun, he might have already used it. Without any thought of leaving behind his wife and child, he would probably have escaped his suffering just as Marla had. How he envied his dead former patient.

  The rustling of leaves nearby captured Jake’s attention and his thoughts drifted back to Hillary. Hillary...that candy-coated monster. No, suicide would not be the solution to his problems. Only one thing would make him feel better...watching the life drain from Hillary’s mangled body.

  Panting heavily by the time he reached his car, Jake wished he had had the forethought to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator before leaving the apartment. The chill in the air had been replaced by humidity and he was hot and sweaty. It was just after seven o’clock. He still had nearly an hour to kill before the bank opened. He would have liked to stop off at the diner and grab a quick bite to eat, but thanks to Hillary, he no longer owned a wallet and hence, had no money. He would have to wait until the bank opened. He hoped that Kelly Gallo still worked there since he didn’t have a shred of identification available to prove who he was. If she wasn’t there, he didn’t know how he’d get his money out of the bank. He didn’t even want to think of that dreadful scenario.

  He drove slowly toward the bank, arriving with forty minutes to spare but in time to see Kelly emerge from the car that had entered the lot ten minutes later. Jake anxiously ran from his car to meet her, startling her in the process. It took a moment for her to recognize the man who was her high school crush. He lacked that debonair appearance that he’d always had. He looked...unkempt and disheveled.

  “God, Jake,” Kelly breathed. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  “Kelly, I’m so glad to see you, I—”

  “I read about what happened to you,” Kelly interrupted. “I’m glad you survived.”

  “Thanks Kelly,” Jake replied, growing red in the face.

  Did she know? Did she know that he no longer had a penis? Jake had read the newspaper about how the “Hillary Copycat” had attacked him and butchered Patrick and Monica Morrison. Though it had mentioned how the killer had badly burned his genitals, it stated nothing about the resulting amputation.

  “Are you okay? You look different.”

  What does she mean? Is she insulting me? Jake frowned.

  “I mean, I’m used to seeing you in business attire,” Kelly added after seeing how upset he looked.

  Ignoring his growing uneasiness, Jake said, “Listen, Kelly, I’m in a bind. That Hillary copycat killer, he stole my wallet. I don’t have my driver’s license or credit cards...nothing. But I need to access—to withdraw—the money from one of my savings account.”

  What sort of trouble was the handsome doctor in, Kelly wondered. She nodded empathetically as he spoke.

  “Oh, well, Jake, you know I’m a loan manager. I don’t—”

  “I know, you’re not a teller, but you know them all...you know me.”

  “So you want me to vouch for who you are?”

  “Yes, basically...I just need to get the money. After what happened, I haven’t resumed my psychiatric practice. Well, you know, the bills still have to get paid....”

  Jake flashed one of his radiant smiles. It felt foreign to him. It was the first time he had “smiled” since his ordeal. Kelly returned his smile with a yellowed-teeth grin of her own.

  “I’ll do what I can, Jake, but I have to say, the bank manager, Marty Koehler...he’s not exactly a nice guy if you know what I mean. He’s not one to do favors and bend the rules.”

  “I’d really appreciate your help, Kelly,” Jake said, still smiling facetiously. For good measure, he reached out and patted her forearm.

  Kelly giggled like a school girl. It was quite a shameful display from a woman in her late thirties, but she was bedazzled by Jake’s sparkling eyes and winning smile. At the moment, he could have asked her to rob the bank and she would have done her best to comply.

  It wasn’t until a station wagon pulled into the parking lot several minutes later that Kathy, with great effort, pried herself away from Jake and enter
ed the bank. Jake returned to his car to wait for the bank to officially open, hoping that he had charmed Kelly enough to secure the woman’s assistance with his financial transaction.

  Feeling too antsy to remain in the car any longer, Jake walked to the entrance of the bank at five minutes to eight, fidgeting in front of the thick glass door until the security guard finally unlocked it. He quickly advanced to the teller’s window and stared at the young, unfamiliar face looking distastefully back at him.

  I should have brushed my hair, he thought, suddenly feeling self-conscious and wondering just how shabby he looked.

  “May I help you?” The young woman asked monotonously. She had dull brown hair that hung limply down to her shoulders. She had eyes that were a pretty blue color, but oddly shaped and spaced slightly too far apart from one another. Light brown freckles decorated her fair skin as if someone had tossed a bucket of paint high up in the air and it had splattered all over her. She had a small diamond stud protruding from her left nostril and a heart-shaped tattoo over her collarbone. Jake estimated that she was in her mid twenties.

  “Uh, yes, I’m a friend of Kelly’s...my name is Jacob Bentley and I have several accounts here. I’d like to close my second savings account and withdraw the funds please...I believe there’s about twenty thousand dollars in it.”

  The lady stared at him emotionlessly, giving no indication as to whether she would be willing to assist him. Jake began to sweat. Had someone turned up the heat?

  “Sure,” she replied after a long, undue pause. “May I have your driver’s license please?”

  Jake exhaled in frustration.

  “I don’t have my driver’s license with me, I—”

  The corners of the lady’s mouth curled into a big smile as she laughed out loud.

  “I’m just joking with you,” she said cheerfully. “Kelly explained everything. I figured after everything you’ve been through you could use a good laugh.”

  Jake stared at the girl, angrily at first, but quickly shed his hostile demeanor and laughed back, though inside he was fuming.

  “Good one,” he said, feigning amusement.

  “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to close that account for you,” the lady said seriously.

  Jake felt the air rush out of his chest as if he’d been kicked by a mule. He stared blankly at the young woman waiting for an explanation. Was she kidding around again?

  “Your wife is listed on the account. She would have to be here in order to close the account.”

  Jake huffed in exasperation. How was he supposed to get Patty to agree to that?

  “Unless you just make a withdrawal and keep the account open,” the teller suggested, much to his relief.

  He nodded his head even before he spoke.

  “Yes, yes please...let’s do that.”

  “How much would you like to withdraw?”

  “Um...fifteen thousand.”

  The teller shook her head, denying his request and testing his patience.

  Another frustrated huff.

  “Ten thousand?”

  “I’m afraid not Mr. Bentley.”

  “Doctor Bentley,” he said irately. “Why can’t I withdraw ten thousand? There’s about twice that in the account, isn’t there?”

  “Well, yes,” the teller said, “but this isn’t a main branch. The maximum you can withdraw without prior written request is five thousand dollars.”

  “Then why didn’t you just say so?” he barked. He shook his head in disbelief knowing all the while that he should not insult the lady who was doing him a favor.

  “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks for me. Do you think, perhaps, in light of my situation an exception can be made?”

  “I really don’t think so,” the teller said, “but I can ask my manager, Mr. Koehler.”

  “No, never mind, um...Amy,” Jake said, reading her name tag. “I’ll just withdraw the five thousand.”

  “Okay, may I see some ID?”

  Amy’s face was serious again and Jake thought that she had changed her mind about helping him once he had yelled at her. But a few seconds later, she was snickering again.

  “Got you again!” Amy said with a grin, her lips thinning out even more as they spread widely across her face.

  Jake let out a forced chuckle though he was close to his boiling point and wanted nothing more than to slap the frolicsome young woman.

  Jake filled out the required paperwork then requested a new ATM card, leaving instructions that it not be mailed. He would return and pick it up in a week when it was ready. Five thousand dollars wouldn’t last long at all and wouldn’t get him far. At least with his ATM card replaced, he would have access to his other accounts even if Patty would be able to track him. He made a mental note to buy one of those cheap pre-paid cellular phones as he walked to his car. It was time to get down to business.

  ~5~

  Hillary listened inattentively to Miss Billie’s animated retelling one of her tales as they ate supper together. It was her third night at Miss Billie’s house and she was beginning to feel more relaxed there. She even left her shopping bag upstairs in “her” room. Miss Billie had been incredibly kind and generous to her. Two days ago, she had taken Hillary to a nearby thrift shop and had spent thirty-eight dollars buying her two pairs of jeans, six shirts and a package of new socks and underwear. The clothes had been gently worn and looked nearly new, though the styles left little to be desired. Hillary was truly grateful.

  Perhaps it was the woman’s kindness that had convinced Hillary to remain in the woman’s home longer than she had planned. Perhaps she enjoyed the how the woman enthusiastically shared her life stories. Or perhaps she just needed to regain her strength.

  As the woman spoke on, Hillary’s mind wandered to everything that had happened to her within the past six months. She had gone from a socially withdrawn teenager to a bloodthirsty lunatic practically overnight. She had felt rage grip her heart and squeeze until there was nothing left but hatred. She had committed unspeakable acts, done things that made her seem like a monster. Perhaps that’s what she had become. Yet when she was around Miss Billie, she didn’t feel monstrous, nor did she feel weak. She didn’t resist Miss Billie’s efforts to help her. Like a skillful snake charmer, somehow the old woman had found a way to connect with and soothe the lost girl within the savage beast.

  “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, child?” Miss Billie asked. “You gots a far-away look on yo’ face.”

  Hillary blinked twice in rapid succession then turned her gaze to Miss Billie. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She had thought about telling Miss Billie a little bit about her past, leaving out, of course, the fact that she had tortured, maimed and even ingested her family members, as well as several others. As calm and composed as Hillary appeared, a raging storm still brewed within her soul and Hillary knew that even Miss Billie’s wondrous nature couldn’t keep it at bay for much longer. She needed to pay a friend a visit. She had a surprise for him. Miss Billie would help her find him. Yes, the moment had come. It was time to take action.

  “You know what happened to me, don’t you Miss Billie?” Hillary asked innocently.

  “I has my suspicions,” Miss Billie said earnestly. “You wanna talk about it, baby?”

  Hillary nodded. She brought tears to her eyes. It didn’t take much acting.

  “I was...abused too, like you. I ran away from home just like you did. But my father is still alive and living in Maryland. That’s where I have to go...I have to find him.”

  “Tell me, child...who done hurt ya?”

  “Uh, my mother’s boyfriend. I was just thirteen when it started happening.”

  “Good heavens, child! Did ya tell anyone about it?”

  Hillary nodded.

  “I told my mother,” she said truthfully. “Plenty of times.”

  “She didn’t believe ya, did she?”

  A look of contempt washed over Hillary’s face
as her eyes became glassy.

  “No,” she scowled. “She said I was lying even though I know she knew what was going on. She didn’t protect me, she—”

  Hillary stopped herself from growing too enraged as she thought about her mother and how she had kicked her to the curb during her hour of greatest need. And here was this old woman, this stranger, offering the sympathy and understanding that she had once desperately craved.

  Miss Billie walked around the table to where Hillary was sitting and hugged her. The young girl wanted nothing more than to pull back and free herself from the woman’s embrace, but she had to be smart. She didn’t want to insult her. She allowed Miss Billie to comfort her, and to her shock, and even dismay, she liked how it felt.

  “Go on, sugar, let it all out, Miss Billie’s got ya.”

  It was hard for Hillary to reconcile her conflicting emotions, but in keeping with her scheme, she continued.

  “I just couldn’t take it anymore,” she sobbed exaggeratedly. “I had to leave.”

  “No one understands better than me, honey child. Ain’t no need to explain yo’self. When’d you last talk ta yo’ daddy?”

  Hillary shrugged within the woman’s arms hoping that she would release her.

  “He left when he found out my mother was pregnant. He doesn’t even know my name, but I know all about him. I just have to find him, Miss Billie....”

  Miss Billie nodded her assent and like a greedy fish on a hook, she was caught. She released Hillary from her hold and looked meaningfully into the girl’s stormy blue eyes.