Everything is going to plan. I move a piece of hair from my eye and smack my lips after donning on some bright red lipstick. I adjust my black, shoulder-length wig and stare into the mirror. Botox has helped prevent the fine lines and wrinkles whereas Patrice looks every bit her age. My reflection stares back and I realize I’m finally acting myself again. After years of divorce, losing my job, the drug abuse and losing my two children, I knew it was time to act. My life has been destroyed by that night and it’s time for Patrice Summers to pay.
My mind flies back to 1984. Emily had her whole life ahead of her (yes, it sounds cliché) but it’s true. She had been accepted to Harvard for pre-law and had told me she was going to be an attorney, so she could ensure justice was served, which hadn’t happened with her younger brother, Darren, who had been kidnapped when he was five and murdered a week later. The monster was acquitted because our family attorney screwed up the case and did unethical shit to coerce a confession which was then overturned.
That night, me and my boyfriend, Chad, and four more couples decide to hike up a popular trail in the Spanish Fork canyon before prom. We would be gone for the day and then we girls would go back to Emily’s and get ready. Emily was a quiet person, very shy, and not very popular. I took her under my wing and changed her look, got her contacts, and showed her how to be popular. It worked. After I taught her how to do her makeup and hair, she finally got a date. That date turned into a boyfriend.
I was so proud of myself.
After, we hung out all the time, and double-dated often. She was my project, and I made sure she was popular, but not too popular. I ruled Grantsville High, and no one crossed me – no one. When Emily died, a piece of my heart died too, and I vowed I would get revenge – not for me, mind you, but for her and her family. Patrice pushed her to get on the bridge when she didn’t want to and she could have gone around and met us on the other side, but no, Patrice Summers guilted her into it. Then after, she moved on with her life, got married, had kids, a successful marketing consultant business, and even a YouTube gardening channel. Her home is beautiful, and she has a gorgeous husband. It’s not fair.
Of course, over the last year, she’s had it rough. Her neighbor was found murdered, his lover’s husband tried to poison her and Brock, and our first-grade teacher was also murdered, oh, and a police officer was a drug dealer. Patrice was nearly killed at least a few times. Too bad, the plots never worked. I won’t make that mistake.
My phone buzzes and I pull my phone out and push accept.
“What?” I know it’s Mark and I hope he has good news.
“They got Bob.”
“You mean Chad?” My old boyfriend who I’ve kept in contact with and also wanted to get revenge agreed to work with me if I paid him a handsome sum - $100,000. It’s a drop in the bucket since my husband died and I got a $5 million life insurance policy. Plus, my organization, The Shadows, has been raking in funds from gullible millionaires. It’s amazing what people will pay when you put on your best sorrowful face and tell them the money is to help fund cold cases that families can’t pay to continue. I guess marrying a man 20 years your senior and him dying of a stroke was, what would you call it, a stroke of good luck.
“Yeah, Chad.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised. He knew the risks. I’ll be there soon.” I end the call and head to the bathroom where I fix my hair and dab on some lipstick. Why is that I must do things myself when stupid men should have completed the mission swiftly without problems.
I push the car fob that unlocks my Tesla and climb in. I punch the address into my GPS and open the sunroof to allow the heat to penetrate. Finally, after forty years, I will get my revenge, and oh, yes, it will be sweet.
Too bad Patrice’s husband, Brock, must die.
A life for a life.
***
I arrive at the compound, punch in the code, and drive inside the iron gates. The guards usher me in and I wave them off. Being in control is such a freeing thing. For many years, I was controlled by drugs, men, and my anger. Not anymore.
“Well, since Chad has been captured, we need a new plan,” I say to the 20 or so of my “team.” I use that word loosely, as I have used these men and a few women from all walks of life and from several countries. They didn’t know each other and were thrown together – all to make a measly twenty grand. Pitiful if you ask me, but I didn’t ask questions. They had a job and, well, they haven’t performed. Time to bring some incentive to the game.
I summon The Doctor. He arrives promptly with his briefcase in hand, saying nothing. He knows his orders. He unclicks the case and pulls out a branding iron with the seal of The Shadows imbedded into it.
I summon the rest of the team, and they look scared.
Good.
“Now, since you seem to not care about your mission, I would like to make it crystal clear, well, shall we say, iron clad.” I nod and walk away as I hear the first screams echo off the walls of the compound.
That should do it.
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