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A Mother’s Love

(Author’s Note: All Stories unless otherwise noted are completely fictitious, and do not represent in any way the intentions of the creator)

It wasn’t the decision to kill that surprised me. It was the ease with which I made the decision that was unsettling. But I felt no remorse. I felt no guilt for the life that I was about to take. This wasn’t a story of the failure of the justice system, quite the contrary. I was vindicated by the justice system. He had served his time, and by all accounts it was a very substantial amount. I did not feel that in some way I was owed more, I needed this for myself. I wanted this. And I knew that it was out of a selfish desire that I plotted.

Perhaps it was something that had always been building up inside of me, and it just so happened that an opportunity presented itself as an excuse.Never before had I gotten the urge to take the life of someone else. Never before had I wanted to end someone’s existence so badly. I knew that the world would understand why I did it, but the reason that they would think would not be the reason that I acted. It was something far more complex than even I could understand.

I began the arduous of planning the murder. This was no simple task for a single mother of three. Well, I should say now the single mother of two. I had to maintain appearances so that no one expected what I was doing. Dashing between trips to the grocery store and ballet recitals, and reconnaissance missions was to say the least extremely challenging. But I never questioned my commitment. As I dropped my oldest off at middle school, I would drive along his route to work. He would back out in his beat up used car, so typical of the type of person that he is, and would go north for about 3 miles.

 

I would maintain my distance, making sure that he did not catch a glimpse of me, because I knew that he would recognize me immediately. And once he saw me behind him, my efforts would have been in vain. So I kept three or four cars in between us at all times, occasionally turning and going a block to his left or right, and following him from over and behind. Really, I didn’t need to follow him, I knew where he was going every single day. He always drove to his job at the movie theater the same time every morning. He would arrive 15 minutes past when he was supposed to be there, and there would often already be workers there waiting on him.

 

So this ruled out a sneak attack on him from within the building. Even if I could hide myself in the theater all night, and find a place to attack him without warning, he would likely be late, or would most certainly be late, and I would have been foiled by the prompt employees. And, I would also still have my youngest with me in the car, unless I were to drop her off before hand. But I didn’t want to change anything about my normal routine at all. Even if it was a tiny, imperceptible alteration that only the most intimate of friends would even take note of, it would be something. There would be that much more of a chance of me being caught. And I could not allow that to happen.

 

I had plans far beyond this single pathetic waste of conscious thought. I had to thin the herd. The filth and the perverts and the corrupters of innocence had been growing and growing and growing all around. I knew that I sounded like a super hero wanna-be, but it is a cold, hard fact of life when you become a mother of three. I should say, two. Every night you see on Dateline NBC some unsolved double homicide by a father killing his daughter for sleeping with her boyfriend, the 50 year old man kidnapping the two 13 year old girls and keeping them prisoners in his basement for 30 years. That was the filth that had to be burned from the face of the earth.

 

And that can be the only way to purge them completely, with fire. The man that I had come across unfortunately in my life and given me an opportunity that I am more than happy to take. He isn’t the worst of them. He isn’t even in the top 50% of pedophiles. But, alas, he crossed the wrong mother of three. Sorry, two.  I knew what I would do when I got him. I would take him to a storage container that I rented and had placed on the side of a shipping container yard. It was secluded, and there would be no change of detection out there. The container was completely sound proof, which is a strange feature for a storage container having not been designed that way. But I was happy with the discovery, and planned to utilize it.

 

I would not tie him up. That was overdone. It was always overdone. I would cut his tendons in his arms and legs so that he could not move them without excruciating pain. This sounds gruesome, but that was my point. He could escape if he really wanted to push himself through hell. The same hell that I feel everyday

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