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Vengeance Until Murder
by Rachael Daniela Frye

The full moon moved itself further into the sky from behind the night sky clouds, creeping up over the mountains as the thick fog rolled in. The stream rushed madly, the deserted road filled with sounds of the water crashing from the rain storm the night before. My car rolled to a halt at the place he wanted us to meet. Tonight was the night I would see him for the first time since the horrid breakup in which he said he never wanted commitment. I never knew what would happen that night but to be as I am, I wore heels, a mini denim skirt, a low cut tank top revealing a little more cleavage than I had ever before, a friend had done by makeup and fixed my hair. Something about making him squirm in misery knowing what he had missed out on seemed to be more of a punishment than actually hurting him physically. Or so it seemed. The clock on the radio displayed 9:02 PM, I knew in less than an hour, my life would change maybe for the better or maybe for the worse.

I took out my cell phone from my purse and turned it on, hoping to see I had a text message or a missed call waiting. None. I sent the first text of the meeting place to tell him what I needed from him. I waited, again. Nothing. Fury started to boil deep within my blood, heating my skin and increasing my heart rate. I sat waiting, clutching to my cell phone as if it would somehow make all of my anger disappear. With each minute of the silence from the phone, annoyance grew stronger and will power grew less. I realized that this time was going to be different and I was not going to spend my Saturday waiting for him to take the five extra minutes to meet me to give him back his things from my place and to get mine from his. Why would he when all he never bothered to care before? Why would he want to do something for someone else as selfish as he was just a few months previously? Why would he actually want to do anything that did not involve sexual relations or cheap booze?

Anger growing wildly out of control, I tossed my cell phone into the passenger seat as the thoughts and memories seemed to echo and replant themselves into my head, like a movie that kept replaying and was only stuck on the bad scenes. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly, the Scooby Doo imprint became more as a tattoo in the palm of my hands. My hand reach down and put the car into drive. Yes. This time it would be different. This time was all I needed to understand his motivates for lying, deceiving, and betraying his one true best friend. The engine roared to life in that Mustang with each minute the gas pedal became closer to the floor. I always enjoyed the life in the fast lane with my new car. Going 80mph down the interstate was merely just against the law, and laws are meant to be broken. I felt the leather seats become a part of me as I raced down the high way.

I came to the small dirt road off interstate 64 and I could have possibly taken the turn on two wheels. My car slowed down to go only 40mph as I started along the narrow road. The engine started purring as it idled in front of his house. I could not for the life of me remember how I got there or what had taken over my body. It was almost as If I had became someone else. Going to his place felt a little ridiculous until glancing up at the two shadows in his bedroom window, I realized then why he would not take my calls or respond to my text messages. Maybe he knew I would show up and just wanted to see how much trouble and chaos he could cause with me being there. Thoughts took over my mind again as I slammed on the accelerator. I stopped at a little place to turn around, the clock on the radio flashed to the next number, 9:47 PM. I sighed and regained control of my thoughts. I realized that maybe I should not be taking these trips alone or something terrible could happen. As I turned around and spun out, I reached for my cell phone to call an old friend to see how he was.

On the third ring, he answered with a faint hello. After a moment of small talk, I was back on the interstate going faster than previously, the speedometer increased at a rapid rate going from 35mph to 90mph without any hesitation. I started to slow as I made my way to my little town, still talking on the phone to my old friend. He asked me to meet him at an old diner about twenty minutes away and I agreed, knowing that my anger would soon fade as I sat down and talked with him. Luckily, living just outside of the city made the whole living process just a little easier. I never had to deal with traffic but there was always a diner open late at night.

Hanging up the phone, I checked into the rear view mirror to make sure I was suitable to go out tonight. I was very impressed with what I had looked at, so I drove straight to the diner and parked beside of him. He was in his truck waiting with a smile. His smile was radiant and his eyes were the bluest, even in the street light they sparkled like diamonds.

As he stepped out of the truck, I laughed. "Mike! Hey, I see you still have the old beat up Dodge. She may leave you pushing her home one night, you know. You should upgrade."

"Yeah, she's not ready to be parked yet. Still have a few thousand miles left to go. Not everyone can afford a new sports car like you." he laughed and his eyes seemed to have trailed off in thought but soon returned. "So how have you been?"

I could not help but to gaze at his body and into his eyes. He always was my high school crush. "I have had my ups and downs, tonight was just too good to be live it out alone, you know? How about you? And where have you been?"

"Well, I'm sorry about your being down but I'm glad you called, actually. I was thinking about you just the other day. I've been, struggling myself. I have a new job and it takes just about every ounce of energy I have to even wake up in the mornings. After Vanessa left me, I guess I just don't see a purpose anymore, you know? I just got back from Florida a couple weeks ago. I had a job to complete out there. I'm bouncing around until I find some reason to settle down. You always know how I am." He nudged my arm with a wink as we walked to the door of the diner and held it open for me.

Something about Mike had changed dramatically since we had spoken four years ago--before the bad blood of the recent past relationships. I watched him as he ate and they made small talk to catch up on old times. When the check came, Mike paid. I never understood why Vanessa had left him and probably never will. Just one of those dreams to be big time in Hollywood, I am left to guess. We hugged and I fumbled with my keys to unlock my car and climbed in. I drove home with Mike's smile beating every bad memory out of my head. I laughed at how crazy it seemed to still have that feeling of hope that one day Mike and I would be together. Pushing that thought out of my head, I pulled into my driveway and sat there staring at the moon.

After ten minutes, I finally got out of my car and proceeded to make my way up to the door. I unlocked the door and stepped in only to be surrounded by three hungry cats. Kicking them off my feet when I came home late at night was more than just a habit by nature, I believe. But to humor them, I got out their favorite food from the cupboard and fed them. I watched their beauty as they pranced around each other, it was almost as if they were trying to fit together as a puzzle but could not seem to find the right combination. I petted each one and went on into my bedroom to change out of the clothes that were not even mine into sweats. Realizing that maybe this was my last night to forget about him completely.

I gazed around the room and the feel of loneliness overpowered me. It had been a year since my best friend had moved out and got married. I am not complaining, I am very happy for her and sometimes it is nice to be alone, just not tonight. I flipped open my phone and decided to dial Mike's number yet again tonight, using the excuse of wanting to check to make sure he made it home okay. We talked for nearly an hour before I decided to finally ask if I could go to his place instead of us both sitting home alone. I grabbed my keys and went back out, locking the door behind me. Much to my surprise he was already sitting in my driveway waiting for me. A smile stretched across my face as I closed my phone and put it in my pocket.

Mike's truck was old, there was no doubt about it. The body rattled each time it hit a small bump, the radio did not work as well as it should have, the seats had some holes ripped in the cloth, there was some loose wiring in the floor from work he had done on it by himself, but there was something about that old Dodge that took me back to younger days. I scooted over closer to Mike and he laid his hand on my knee lightly. His face was always unreadable when he was behind the wheel but I saw a smile flash lightly. I could not help but to kiss his shoulder lightly.

He pulled out on an old dirt road and drove for almost ten miles before he pulled off on yet another road. Finally, he parked in an open space out in the middle of what seemed like no where. He opened the truck door and stepped out looking at me as if his eyes were saying "Join me." I slide out of the drivers side and stood in front of him as he leaned forward to me and closed the door. He picked me up into his arms and looked at me laughing. Not knowing what to think or even do, my arms found their place around his neck as he made his way to the back of the truck. He lowered the tail gate and sat me down, "Beautiful night. I'm glad you didn't want to spend it inside." He took his place beside me and put his hand lightly on my back. I felt the heat of his hand over power my back, almost melting me at the very touch and making my eyes close without even having to think about it. I felt his body beginning to get closer to mine as he kissed my cheek lightly. He laughed a little, "No need to be afraid of me, you know." I turned and looked at him. We were closer than I had thought.

I pulled away a little and stood up on the back of the truck, "I remember the first time we came out here when we were practically kids. That was a great night."

Mike smiled as the moon seemed to shine straight down upon his face, "That was our first date, if I remember correctly. Which was by accident since your friends left us and we had nothing else to do. I never will forget the look on your face when I first brought you up here. It was like Heaven had placed stars in your eyes." I felt his stare on me as I looked at the ground, I felt a sudden urge to bolt away as he stood up in front of me.

His hands were rough from years of working on his parents' farm but his touch was tender enough to send me to the moon and make me almost fall in love, not to mention his blue eyes that seemed to always shine and pull me into him. I could not help but to wrap my arms around him as he placed his hands on my sides. When I looked up into his eyes, I felt him pulling me closer to him until our eyes were closed and our lips touched lightly. Kissing for nearly five minutes, I pulled away smiling. Mike opened the back glass of the cab, reach inside and pulled out a blanket. I smiled and helped him spread it out. He sat down and pulled me down on his lap, wrapped his arms around me and held me for a long time, just taking in the nature scene. I leaned back on him, getting comfortable and warm in his arms. He kissed lightly on my neck slowly, making my heart beat rapidly. We sat quietly just looking up at the stars until we both fell asleep on the back of his truck.

I woke the next morning, made sure my keys were still in my pocket and walked all the miles back home. Half way, I had to stop, remove my shoes, and continue my journey. When I had got home and opened the door, I got attacked by my feline friends. I sat down at the desk in the living room, pressing play on the answering machine to make sure no one had called me on my night out. By the fourth message, I realized I had not called my best friend in a couple weeks and it was her voice over and over asking if I was okay. By message six, I also realized I needed to change my life because only two people had called and left me six messages. Message number seven got my attention. It was him. I had to replay it to make sure of what it said.

"Hey, it's me. David. Would you meet me tomorrow night? Well, Sunday. If you don't get this before Sunday, maybe next weekend? I'm sorry for not meeting you tonight. I was busy. I still love you and I am very sorry we did not work out. I just really need to see you. Well, I guess I will let you go. I know you stay busy these days with work and such. Just please call me if you can."

I stared at the machine as it blinked indicating the end of messages, then looked down to see I had been clutching the table beneath my palm. Anger fled through my veins, marking my cheeks with red as my breathing started to go harder and painful in my lungs. I slowly started to walk back to the door and realized what I was about to do may take a more appropriate outfit. I followed the carpeted hallway into my bed room, changed into jeans and a hoodie, grabbed my keys, headed back for the door. No looking back, no regretting. I opened my car door and sat in the drivers seat staring at the space in front of me. After shutting the door and starting the car, I was pulling out onto that familiar road. Before I knew what was going on in my head, I was sitting in front of his house staring up at his window. I knew he would be home.

The .357 Magnum was right where my father had left it just incase of emergencies. After I had gotten the hand gun permit and permission to carry a concealed weapon, he bought it for me years ago. I opened the glove box, pulled it out, looked it over. I realized that maybe I should not go as far as to shoot him dead cold in the chest. I had to make this look like an accident instead of a murder. I got out of the car, took a look at the house again and knew the best way through was the front door.

The concrete path to the main entrance of the house seemed longer than it had been in the previous times when he would be waiting for me on the steps. My mind drifted in and out of old memories, desire came over me to do this as quickly as possible. I realized at that exact moment, I had no plan.

I stopped for a moment, looked around, trying to think of something that I could do to pull this off as more than an accident. I realized it just had to be done. I opened the front door with the extra key he had given me to take care of the place while he was out of town, looking at the key I wondered if he had really been cheating on me while he was out of town or if his business really did have a meeting. I shook the thoughts from my head, turned the knob, and stepped in as the door creaked on the rusted hinges.

The house was overdue for remodeling. From my understanding, it had been left to him by his late grandfather and has not had any work done to it besides maybe replacing a few water pipes in the main bathroom. I tried to get him to at least repaint it, but he would not hear of it. Looking in front of me, I saw the staircase. Our initials carved into the cedar oak under the initials of his mother and father and grandmother and grandfather. I traced my fingers along the carvings, lightly stepping on the old wood. I knew one wrong move would cause it to creak and he would know I was there.

Reaching the top step there was an easy view to his bedroom. He was alone, which worked to my advantage. I stepped quietly and slowly to his room, observing carefully, I knew I had to think of something and fast. I knocked on his bedroom door, it was the only thing I could think of. I knew what I had to do. He told me he had been waiting, and all the words of anger flew from my mouth, like it was someone else talking. He came to me, tried to put his arms around me and I shoved him away. I looked up into his deep green eyes, the windows to his soul. I almost forgot that he was human as I took my anger further. We both screamed at each other, anger flying from one mouth to the other's ears, I angled around making him position himself at the top step of the stairs. Before I could think, I pushed him down.

He rolled, for what seemed like forever before I looked over the railing to see blood splashed all over the floor and walls. I realized the rolling had just been my imagination. He had died on impact. My face flushed. It did not seem like the stairs were this high before. It looked as if the ground floor were millions of lightyears away from me. I stepped over to the stairs, trembling with fear. I had never, before this, been afraid of heights. I could not even begin to tell you how I got to the bottom of the stairs or even how disgusted I had felt with myself. My eyes glanced from the blood to the body, back to the blood. How could there be so much blood? I needed to phone the police and fast. But first, I needed to call Mike.

I felt my pockets frantically searching for my cell phone. Where did I put it? I ran to my car, no trace of it. I could not have left it at home. Not today. I could not think. I just knew I had to get out of here and away from this place. I got into my car, slamming the door, and I turned around in his driveway, sped back to my place going almost 90 MPH. I got home, found my phone, called Mike and told him to rush over. I looked down on my hands. Blood. Where did I get blood? How did I get blood on me? What had I done? And why am I getting Mike involved? So many thoughts rushed through my mind. I knew I had to get a grip on myself.

I ran to my room, grabbed some clothes, ran to the bathroom and took a quick shower. Just as I was turning the water off, I heard Mike pull up. I had no idea of even how to tell him what had happened or even how to explain myself. Somehow, I knew I had to make a story sound believable but I knew I could not lie to Mike.

Glancing at the mirror on my way out, I tossed my hair a little to look at least half decent. I knew after the truth came out, looks would not matter much. Racing to the door, I tripped over the coffee table just as he knocked. He opened the door just as I shrieked in pain, he could not help himself but to laugh at me. Between Mike's laugh and he playfully asking, "Someone having a rough evening?" and what I had just done, my control faded and I found myself crying into his arms telling him the whole story.

Mike stood up, trying to gather his thoughts. For minutes, he actually could not find any words that would come out to form a full sentence. All I could do was stare up at him. His eyes finally met mine, he sat down on the couch and pulled me down with him. Taking my hand gently, he kissed each finger. Tears fled from my eyes with the guilt growing deep inside. Mike, I knew, understood more than anyone about my anger because of things that had happened in his past. He knew right now, I needed comfort and a good friend. He leaned back on the couch, pulling me closer to him. We sat holding each other for nearly three hours before he finally said something.

"Listen, I know you felt you needed to do what you did. So here's what we're going to do. You listen to me, alright? We're going to go to his place, and when you walk up to the front door, you're going to drop his stuff and scatter it all over in front of the front door like you had dropped the box." Mike's eyes hardened as he continued, "Then you're going to get your cell, call 911. Our story is going to be that you found him like this and you didn't want to come here alone to give his stuff back because he had hit you before..."

I stopped him, "But he had hit me and the sheriff did nothing. That was our first real fight we had."

Mike nodded, agreeing that he had already known, "...and then when the police arrive, you're going to retell them that exact story. That will cover your fingerprints on the door knob and don't worry about your tire tracks, when I finish they'll be gone. Can you do this?"

I nodded and raised up from him. He got his keys, I grabbed my cell phone as we left the house. I knew when I returned I would not be the same person I was at that point. The plan went as described, I dropped the stuff at the front door just like I had been surprised to see him there. Mike was outside going forward and backing up to cover the tracks my car had left. The scene looked almost different in the dark, the moonlight shining in through the window, making the blood glisten. It was enough to make me sick to my stomach. I got out my cell and called 911, and told them the story, just as Mike and I had rehearsed a million times on the way here. Looking back at the blood, I almost fainted. I stumbled back to Mike and sat in his truck, the guilt gnawing at me. Mike held me until the cops arrived, I then again told him the story of Mike's version of what happened. The truth wanting to slip off my tongue, the pressure and anxiety of knowing what I had done. It was enough to draw attention, but then again this was my ex-boyfriend I just found murdered. I am almost sure the cops would blame that for my inability to function properly while trying to explain the story for the second time.

The cops marked off the scene and told us we were free to go but not to leave town without contacting them first. Mike and I glanced at each other before the sheriff said, "Standard procedure. We may need to ask some questions later on. Nothing major. We will contact you both when this is all settled."

Months and months passed, still no word. Sitting on the porch at Mike's, the home phone rang, I walked inside to see if it was important. Mike almost dropped the phone as he heard what the officers had said. "We are found innocent. And you have inherited all of David's money and his land. It's worth over two million dollars." My eyes burned but I could not release it from Mike or the phone. I took the phone from him, "Hello, this is Mrs. Freeman." The officer had told me what he just told Mike.

I have not spoke of the events that happened. That was two years ago. Mike and I hid the lies and evens from that night away from the world and everyone we have came to love. Most would wonder how a murderer and a guy who covered up the scene would live with themselves after such a traumatic experience. Well, to answer that question, I will have to tell you about our lives currently.

Mike and I are now living together, happily married in a small town in Virginia. Our guilt still eats as us but we never talk about that day. Mike now has a steady construction job and I am working in a Children's Home for children with down syndrome. Life seems to be going our way. Some days are harder than others and I find myself having terrifying dreams that one day David will come back to kill Mike and me for what we had done. I still picture David laying lifeless, the blood pouring from his open skin from the impact of the fall. I still, to this day, have no idea how he died other than the fact that I had pushed him. Honestly, I wish he would have got up and walked away from the accident. I still see his face when I turn the corners and I have to look again to make sure it was a lie. I followed a car for twenty miles thinking it was him driving. Maybe one day I can put my past behind me, but until then Mike and I will live as fully as we can and never bring up that day again. Only in our dreams.