Her Final Act

Chill against her flesh, cooler than the room surrounding her, the cool glass pressed against her heated cheek. It was the only thing her battle weary mind could comprehend. She held her eyes closed welcoming the darkness, letting it seep into her like the warmth of a welcomed embrace.

There was no embrace. No one was here. She was all alone. Normally, a place with subtle noises constantly in motion, tonight it was silent, bereft of any sounds. The silence was so loud it was deafening.

The coolness against her cheek distracted her, kept her from thinking about the silence. The silence that was so contradictory to what her life had been before the events of the day had thundered across her path and swept her downstream, changing her life forever.

If she had only known. If the authorities had only just contacted her, maybe she could have prevented it all from happening. As it was, they had failed to take the necessary steps in contacting her. No one had warned her. No one had bothered to consider the risk of not informing her.

She heard the sirens. She knew they would be here shortly. Feeling the slow meandering journey of a tear tracing a path down her cheek, she slid open the sliding glass door only moments ago she had leaned her cheek against.

One step at a time, she focused, as her feet slowly traced a familiar path out the door, across the patio and into the grass where she and her daughter used to play together. Memories flashed in her mind of only yesterday when her daughter had called to her to come out and kick a soccer ball around in the very grass she now stood silently upon.

That day had been sunny and warm, the perfect day, not too hot, not too cool, so they had also prepared and cooked the meal together on the grill. Something they didn’t do very often because of the carcinogens from grilling food. They worked hard on being healthy so together they would live long lives. All, to no avail.

Today, would be a day she would never be able to forget. It would forever be etched within her mind and follow her into her dreams creating a nightmare she would never be without.

Tilting her head back, closing her eyes, she let the heavy rain wash down her body, washing the blood away. Washing the bits and pieces from her flesh. She had discarded her clothing inside the door. Leaving it as evidence for the police. She however could not stand to feel the sticky blood and bits of flesh upon her a moment longer. The rain stung her flesh, pounded upon her face, and the rest of her body like sharp pinging projectiles battering her then turning to cold rivers washing the evidence off her body.

She couldn’t stop the images from replaying in her mind as she stood barefoot in the grass with the rain punishing her, chilling her, making her skin prickle into gooseflesh.

The horror she had walked in on, no one would ever be able to take away. If only someone had told her, he had been released from jail. If only someone had just picked up a phone and called her to let her know he was being released early, far earlier than the public record had indicated was possible. Coming home to find him in her house, to see what he was doing to his own daughter, seeing her daughter crying and fighting against him and what he was forcing her to do, had shattered her sanity.

Next to the door, had been her daughter’s weapons from her karate classes. One of those weapons was a sword she had earned in a contest. She had won the contest and the winning prize was a real Japanese sword, though not completely sharpened it was a lethal weapon. Though meant for display only it was a real weapon. She had often sparred with her daughter. She knew the proper moves, the lethal moves and she did not hesitate.

She had been too late. He had grown instantly angry at his daughter fighting against him and he had struck her hard. Hard enough to throw her backwards where her head hit upon the sharp corner of the coffee table. She knew without a doubt her daughter died instantly upon the blow she suffered to her head as her neck snapped from the weight of her fall. In that instant, she swung the sword and decapitated her daughter’s father, then proceeded to hack away at him with the sword even though she knew he was already dead.

It had been too easy. He should have suffered more. She should have tortured him, cutting away at him in small pieces, in particular removing the part which he had used to violate his own daughter raping her, destroying her. In a way, she was glad her daughter would not have to live with that memory, she just wished she didn’t have to live with it too.

She looked down at her hands. In one of them she held a knife she had picked up as she walked through the kitchen to the sliding glass door. Letting her knees buckle she knelt down hard upon the grass, letting the mud splash upon her naked flesh, feeling the rain wash the grit from her legs. She bowed her head in submission to what she knew she would now do.

The knife had a long blade. She had studied Japanese culture, though it wasn’t the true blade the Japanese used it was close enough. She grasped the handle in both hands, turned it so the point of the blade was directed directly at her abdomen. Stretching her arms to their full length, she heard a gasp and a male voice yell ‘No!’ just as she began the thrust of the knife.

She was not afraid. This would be the end. There was nothing left for her in this place anymore.


© Kate Spyder

About Kate Spyder

I'm a creative individual finding her way in her writing. I enjoy expressing my deep thoughts through poetry and stories. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoy writing them.
This entry was posted in Erotic Fiction and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Her Final Act

  1. :: 🙂 🙂 🙂 ::

  2. Mark Baron says:

    Dark, sad, and powerful.

  3. Pingback: A Submissive’s Journey – 5 August 2014 | Breathe In My Touch

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