cheryl only really spoke to me in regards to our scheme. i regret to say that my begging and pleading for her forgiveness was not limited to this blog....and neither were my references to her as "cordelia".
despite the difficulties of working with me, our trap was forged. it required much skulduggery on our part. it also required us to look several things up on the internet. it is a wonder surpassing that of queen mab's court what one can find online these days.
it was decided that i would be the bait. it was never really a question. i am the preferential target. they knew the depths of my hatred, and felt it in kind.
i was to stand, alone, with a makeshift torch and a molotov. this was the simpler of tasks.
the more difficult, we found, was finding a suitable construction site, one with both the crux of our trap, and the means to deliver it. sneaking in and operating the machinery in stealth--once the night watchman was carefully subdued--was much easier by comparison.
i stood alone, vulcan's lash in one hand and a vial of his wrath in the other. mine was to wait. to observe.
i waited for what felt to be hours before they finally arrived, came suddenly out of the night, the smell of ozone crackling the air, and there they were. a mother and a child. they looked so innocent, and i remembered the ice cream. feeding and laughing and loving.
i wanted to burn them. i wanted to burn them right then, but they weren't in the right spot. it was not the plan. i did not want to be like king ferdinand, all of my labours of hate drowned away. not when i was so close. not when i could claim my pound of flesh and any drops of blood i desired.
"so, the base creature and the witch have found me at last, have they?" i called to them. "it hast taken thou long enough. is the murder and its birdhouses so easily avoided?"
"you see this, sweetie?" sycorax said to her child. "this is the coward from the diner. you remember her, right?"
caliban nodded. "yes, mommy. i remember. she left all those people behind."
"oh, she left more than just those people behind."
"still thy tongue!" i called to them. my torch approached the makeshift wick of the makeshift bomb. "or else i shall have to still it myself."
"see how she blusters? that's how you know she's a coward." sycorax continued. "she wasn't nearly this brave when she and her friend killed your aunt and uncle. remember that, sweetie?"
the
"very good, sweetie! just like she was crying when her terrible, terrible murderer friend killed all our lovely masters." sycorax locked eyes with me. "if only you hadn't been so slow, maybe jessica would be alive today, wouldn't she, anya?"
"do not speak of cordelia to me, vermin!" i growled, and nearly put the flame to wick. i almost ruined our plan then and there, for surely they were prepared for this. they would not have come here so brazenly, my weapons of choice in my hands, if they had not been prepared.
cheryl saved me. she stopped me from ruining everything.
the clamshell excavator above the mother and child opened, and from it, a mass of still warm tar dropped. they were not in the perfect position, but the shock of the attack, i think, prevented them from avoiding it as they were going to my fire.
when they did not move, under the thickening fluid, and cheryl hopped down from the controls of the machine and ran to me. i was apologizing for almost ruining everything, and she was just relived i was fine...
...and the next moments are a blur.
sycorax moved from the tar. she moaned and reached out and tried to stand, and i think cheryl turned, and she was startled and knocked the torch from my hands.
it rolled into the tar.
and they began to burn.
and they screamed, and as we watched, sycorax curled around caliban. as though trying to protect him.
and cheryl could merely watch. she watched in horror, and i began to laugh, laugh and laugh and i realized at some point that i wasn't laughing, that i was on my knees sobbing, sobbing until cheryl pulled me away, and sirens grew in the distance.
...there is more. more, but i do not want to tell it....i think, i think cheryl wishes to, and i shall allow her to do such. i think it would be best if she told it.
i feel...lost. i do not....they are dead, and now i do not...
what does one live for, when revenge has been all? when the lion's share has been taken...what is there left for such a person?
I asked myself that question once. After his screams had stopped, his blood pooling at my feet. I found my answer, seeking vengeance for the rest. For the ones whose friends and families never knew why they died or who their killers truly were. And on a good day ensuring there are fewer who NEED avenging. I know not if that is a path for you but it was the path I took.
ReplyDeleteStay Alert, Stay Alive.