Revenge -FFM 3-

Screams tear from the woman's throat. She runs, glancing over her shoulder; she stumbles and falls. Whimpers erupt from her pitiful form as she rolls onto her back. Her hands and legs propel her backwards in a violent struggle for survival.

I follow, soft steps echoing in the alleyway. The same place it happened. Where she sinned. She knew I would come – knew it was only a matter of time. How could she not?

Her heartbeat races. I can sense it, see the fear in her eyes.

Now, she would know how my sister felt. How the young girl I cherished – and still do – spent her final moments. In fear. Begging and pleading for her life. Crying out for someone, anyone, to help her.

No one did. When the cops arrived, she was already gone.

I raise my arm and cock my head to the side. The cold metal in my hand fits along my palm and numbs my skin. My index finger wraps around the pistol's trigger and I take extreme care to aim right, gaze locking onto the middle of her forehead.

Her moss green eyes widen and she cries out for help. She shakes her head in disbelief, in fear, and I relish in it. Is that how she felt? No. This is revenge, not a savage killing of an innocent child.

I will go to prison for this, and then to Hell. I accept that as my thoughts latch onto the memory of my dead sister. My finger twitches and I start to pull back on the trigger.

My lips curl into a frown and I tighten my grip.

"I'll see you in Hell."

Two shots echo in the night.