FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
To Know Betrayal And Love Revenge
“A letter has just been found.” The newswoman looks down for a moment, with the said letter in hand, and gazes back up to the camera.
“There seems to be now some hardcore evidence that proves that Jennifer Hatter had been wrongly prosecuted.
“… She was not intentionally homicidal– she was psychologically impaired. Here Ms. Hatter writes: ‘Am I to now take justice into my own hands? I suppose I must. But I will say that I am not happy to commit such an act. No, I am not happy. But at least I will have revenge. Revenge tastes sweet now– almost as sweet as my love for chocolate. A new Justice will now arise.’” How can she smile? Doesn’t she realize that she’s reciting the words of a dead woman?
“The Orange County Police Department is reopening Ms. Hatter’s case. It has been over ten years since her execution by lethal injection. There is also new evidence that proves Ms. Hatter was…”
Hugh shuts the T.V. off. He sighs, reclining deeper into his rocker. He knew it all along. It was just a matter of time before the entire world found out…
Why she shot her best friend to death…
I don’t know who you are or how you found this but if you could learn to understand, then please, use your patience with me.
I know that I will be gone from this world by the time this letter ends up in the hands of another. But I could not leave without leaving something behind. Something that has been troubling me for almost eleven years now. Eleven years of inner torment, rage, sick satisfaction and, regret.
I must relay this story. I must. If I do not– if no one knows the truth– then I must sadly admit that I will not be able to rest in peace. I don’t know how you will interpret this fateful turn in my life but I, quite frankly, do not really care. I just want someone to know the truth.
So, I will relay the story as to how I felt during that time. Will you be able to feel it the way I did when it happened? I don’t know.
But, please, try to understand.
December 13, 1970
I knew it. I knew this would happen. Who else would’ve done it but her?
Traitor. That is what she is. A conniving, little traitor, indeed!
I can’t help but feel betrayed. I am heartbroken. My trust in her has shattered in just a matter of seconds. To be betrayed by the very one I had trusted… Trusted without a second thought! How dare she!
My first impulse is to get revenge. I want to hurt her as much as she hurt me. Revenge sounds sweet– almost as sweet as my love for chocolate.
Alas, as time passes, it eats at me. Time gives me space to think. I hate to think now. I don’t want to think. Consequences don’t matter at the moment. She deserves my vengeful hand, doesn’t she?
How shall I resume the undoing of her dark fate? Leave her a gift– a keyed and trashed car? Spread wicked tales of her infidelity and promiscuity? Teach her a lesson with a bullet to the head? Or should I attack her at the core… Her pride?
On the contrary, she has no pride. The vixen encompasses no morality. She has no heart!
Love really does bring out the deepest part of us, doesn’t it? Love is supposed to make us happy. Yet here I am, sad and alone. And angry.
Yes, angry. Angry at the fact that Love did not work out for me. Angry with her and angry with him… Yes, I am angry. I have every right to be angry.
Now, Anger has become my new lover. Anger loves me more than Love itself.
I just want to ask her– why did she do it? Why did she betray me? Was it my fault? Did I drive her to this?
No, it couldn’t be. I had been nothing but kind and helpful to her. I had offered her friendship and counsel for years. Yet, look at where we’ve ended up. I want to tell her she should apologize. But, I think, for what? What is there for her to apologize for? Is she supposed to apologize for stealing away my love? For murdering my fiancé?
My heart shatters again at the thought.
Why, why, why? That word repeats over and over in my skull. My head begins to feel light and hazy even when I feel like the world has just crushed me with its heavy weight. Or maybe the world has fallen apart beneath my feet. I don’t know.
But I do know that I want something done. Something needs to be done! Punishment is the best answer I can come up with. Yes, punishment. How can I not want that for her? She should pay for her crime.
Yet the justice system fails me. Courts after courts deny me my pleasure. How can this be? What happened to Justice? Now, I’ve learned to hate Justice. To hate Justice as much as I do Love…
It feels beautiful.
Thus, this moment comes. I have dreaded this moment since the day she betrayed me. I will admit that this moment had come across my mind many times. But I never wanted to act upon it. Now, it seems that I must.
When had my life turn so upside down?
Am I to now take justice into my own hands? I suppose I must. But I will say that I am not happy to commit such an act. No, I am not happy. But at least I will have revenge. Revenge tastes sweet now– almost as sweet as my love for chocolate. A new Justice will now arise.
I haven’t spoken to or seen her for years. No matter. Time matters not anymore. I still know where she resides. She hasn’t moved anywhere else these past years. What luck I have this night!
The metal feels cold and heavy between my gloved fingers. The metal is like my heart. I have been stricken and now, I am to strike back. I look up to her window. The light is on. Yes, revenge really is sweet…
My steps slow as I ascend to her apartment. Doubts fill my head. Regret? No, not regret. I will not let regret eat at me for the next forty years or so.
But, I stop. I think, ‘What am I to do now?’ My heart says to finish her off. Enter, kill, and leave. It sounds so simple yet my hands feel heavier now. I rationalize that this is right. Justice is to be served. Why should she be able to escape her fate? It is not fair…
If there was a guiding light for me shining out from this dark void I’ve been hurled into… Maybe I could learn to forgive.
But to forgive her? Never.
I’d rather have rusty nails jammed into my skull than to ever say, ‘I forgive you,’ to that wench. She deserves my Hatred. She deserves my Anger.
Justice will come. Yes, justice will come.
My feet take me higher and higher. The weapon gets lighter in my grasp. I reach her door and knock softly. She calls out. I answer. I hear the chain unlock and the door swings open. I push her roughly and she falls onto the floor. Her face becomes stricken with surprise. And fear.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I stalk towards her, slowly, menacingly. I want to see Fear consume her. Fear needs to swallow her whole now. I need to see that.
My Justice feels heavier again. Justice must be served. I chant over and over again in my head, her life must end. Yes, she must disappear! My mind soon clouds; I can’t think straight. Damn Regret and Doubt. I want this. I want this, don’t I? Justice is at my hands and this woman is to feel its power!
I can barely hear her speaking. My thoughts are louder than her pleas. My hands are clammy but I tighten my grip on my weapon. My weapon of Justice… What am I to do? I cannot stop now. No, there is no turning back. This is the end. The end for her, I must say.
I want to smile. I want to laugh in her face. Humiliation, degradation; yet, all I can feel is pity. Pity and sorrow. For her or for myself? I cannot tell. I cry.
She stops whining. I’m grateful that she has shut up now. Her voice is so annoying. I look to her. She stares at me, unmoving. But I know she wants to get up, tackle me down, and wrestle with me for the gun.
I won’t let her win. No, I won’t. She’s already beaten me once. I won’t let it happen again. Like they say, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’
I will not be fooled.
My new Justice loves me. Justice now loves me as much as Anger does.
I feel the world halt for a millisecond when I fired. I’ve seen the color red many a times before but never like this. It looks beautiful.
Her croaking irritates me. She sounded like those disgusting toads you would find at local pet stores. The next shot shuts her up. But she doesn’t stop moving. She looked like an earthworm dug out of its home by some mischievous children. She is trying to escape!
Anger got the best of me. But Anger did it for Justice. My Justice accepts my Anger.
I don’t know how many sharp blasts went off. I didn’t want to count them. It is unimportant. I look at her. She is unmoving. She’s drenched in red. That color is so beautiful now…
A love turned into hatred. Both love the color red. Thus, both deserve the color red.
It is just a coincidence that she is wearing a red dress. Probably was going out to steal another soon-to-be husband. The bitch.
She looks to be asleep in a bed of scarlet paint. Her brown hair is sprinkled with what looked like red rose petals. She doesn’t deserve to look beautiful when her time came. Yet, I cannot help but be astounded by the sight.
I’ve painted a masterpiece. And Justice had helped me.
I love Justice.
Suddenly, as if the moment of a near-death experience awoke me, panic fills me. What am I to do now? Oh yes, my simple plan consisted of three steps. Enter, kill, and leave. I must leave now. Justice has been served– and by my hands nonetheless. It feels exhilarating.
Now, if only music would play along with my art… I see an old record player near the window. I look through her collection. There it is; the CD I had given her for Christmas. Those times look bleak in my mind now. I place the disk into the machine and put the needle at its edge.
The rhythmic sounds impregnate the room. The melody is beautiful. I look back to the corpse lying at the center of the room. Now, my masterpiece is grand. Life feels peaceful. I want to smile but my face is numb. Did I lose control of my face muscles? I don’t care. I leave.
A smug smile pulls at my lips. Oh, the sweet taste of revenge! Yes, it was beautiful. I will never deny that. I can’t fathom the doubt I had before. What was there for me to worry about? Justice was served to its fullest. I walk home, humming a happy tune.
-------------------------
Please, you must understand.
My belligerence is not unethical. I have justifiable cause for my actions.
I know what is right and what is wrong.
The American system’s Justice is wrong. They failed to grasp the notion of her true intentions. Her true self. She is evil. She is a liar. But I’ve taken care of that all. She can no longer harm others. I’ve stopped her dead in her tracks. She can no longer take away another’s happiness or love. Yes, the American justice system is wrong. The fools!
On the contrary, my Justice is right. I’ve put everyone else out of her misery. She will no longer walk this earth or time. I smile. I am glad that I’ve done something good in my life.
I hope you understand now. Do you understand why I had to kill her? She deserved it. She really did. If only you had been there.
If you were I… you’d do the same.
Please understand. Understand.
Signed,
Jennifer Hatter
Jenny Hatter
“Ms. Hatter had only her older brother left. He, at the age of 12 then, had to care for his younger sister. The two children were sent to the adoption agencies by social worker Mrs. Carrie Underway. The Hatter children were orphaned for the two years until an old, kind couple– Mr. and Mrs. Harry Evergreen– took Ms. Hatter under their care.
“Her brother, Jake Hatter, had been separated from his younger sister when he turned fourteen. He had been adopted by another couple but had soon been reported as a runaway five weeks later. Since his disappearance, nothing else had been recorded of his whereabouts.
“This tragic news of Jenny Hatter opens our eyes to just how a child with a tormented early life could grow to be a seemingly stable, normal young woman. But what made her private life terrible what that Ms. Hatter suffered from psychological diagnoses known as Jealous and Grandiose Delusional Disorders. Things took a turn for the worse when Ms. Hatter, blinded by her sadness and rage, had murdered her best friend, Nicole Wilson.
“Nicole Wilson, reported by coroner David McCain, had been shot multiple times. We do not know the exact details but we do know that Nicole Smith had been Jenny Hatter’s closest female companion– Jenny’s best friend– since 1964. But when news got to Ms. Hatter about her fiancé running off with Nicole, she went mad.
“We now know that Jennifer Hatter had been tried unjustly. She did not deserve the death penalty. She only needed help. We must now ask ourselves this: When will we learn to open our eyes to other people’s pain? When will we learn to understand how they truly feel? Will we ever learn to not judge them?
“… This is Hilda Redfield, Channel 5 News. And now, back to you, Harold.”
He had tried his best to defend her. Jenny Hatter was a good woman but she just suffered through a lot of hard times. She was only a young girl back then. Young and naïve. And beautiful.
She gave her heart to someone so foolishly and he had broken it. That fiancé of hers didn’t care about her. That was why he ran off with Nicole. Nicole Smith, the best friend of Jenny Hatter.
Why did Jenny think Smith killed her fiancé?
He couldn’t fathom it then, but now, he could. He understands now. Jenny was driven into a deep depression; just like her father. Losing someone you loved so much could devastate anyone. Hugh knows what it feels like to lose a loved one.
He hates the feeling.
Anger is so familiar to him. He fears yet embraces it. He doesn’t want to feel angry with her. No, he wasn’t angry with Jenny Hatter. She did what she thought was right. She did what she thought brought justice to her loss. He had no one to blame but himself for that.
It was his fault she turned out the way she did.
He wasn’t there for her.
Hugh stomps around inside his home, angry and sad. He cries tears of agony. He wishes that he could rewind time and fix everything. He wants to be there for her when she grew up. He wants to be there, nurturing her, putting her into bed, reading a book to her. He misses the old times.
But they seemed bleak now. He could hardly remember the last time he told he loved her.
There was no point now. She was gone. Hugh cries more.
“Jenny… I love you.” No one is around to hear his broken confession. His cries turn into sobs. How unmanly, he thinks to himself. But he doesn’t care. No one was around to see this.
He loves her, even now. But she is gone. She’ll never hear his affectionate words. The kind words of a brother who promised to protect her. And never leave her.
He broke his promises. There was no going back. There was nothing left but memories of a past that seemed to fade with every passing minute.
A past where love did not save, did not nurture, did not protect.
A past where anger ruled and conquered all.
Jenny lived no more. What was he to do?
