Daddy’s Little Pet

Envy is the cowardly side of Hate, and all her ways are bleak and desolate. ~ Henry Abbey.

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AMANDA

I was listening to a crime podcast about a woman who committed suicide in her toilet with an acid bath. The only thing that kept her from dying on impact was a tiny piece of metal that had embedded itself into her skin, preventing the chemical from spreading – it sounded absurd that something as insignificant as a metallic piece could delay her death for a few seconds. But this was a crime story. That tidbit was probably fabricated to make the story more twisted and dramatic.

The show was a popular one called Serial. I’d become accustomed to hearing the voices of detectives and crime fans debating unsolved murders. It was the type of show where one might listen to everything from common facts to conspiracy theories and deep evil secrets, ranging from drug overdoses to random acts of violence, such as serial killer cases and accidents. Each one appealed to my dark side and entertained me. The unsettling phrases also comforted my inner soul and made me feel less alone in my agony and self-loathing.

Still listening to the podcast, I discovered that the poor anonymous woman who’d been the subject of today’s argument had ten minutes left before the acid began to dissolve through her body. The caustic chemical gradually took its toll, eating away at her flesh and muscle tissue until only her withered bones remained. What a gruesome picture!

And it got me thinking.

I did not pity the stranger, but that was beside the point. I couldn’t dispute the fact that the woman and I shared so many similarities. The only difference was that I didn’t envisage myself in that acid bath. Instead, I imagined someone else. Someone young, bright, and lively. A strawberry blonde girl with freckles. With a face that was considered beautiful-not to me-but to the man I loved with all my heart.

I’d stand by and watch as she cried for help while being immersed in a bath of the brutal chemical.

As I imagined her pain, a sinister smile tugged at my lips, and my mind raced with countless scenarios of how the acid would affect her. Would her skin initially scorch like flames or turn pale and cold? Would she have time to cry before her brain melted? Or would it be instantaneous, taking over immediately? Would her skin turn white as the acid got into her blood? Or would it move slowly down her flesh, causing no damage until it reached her internal organs and turned them to burnt ash?

I imagined her pain- her screams muffled as the acid burned away at her flesh and bones, leaving only her skeletal remnants in ash. Her once-bright eyes would be dull and lifeless, and her hair would be singed by the chemical, curling into unrecognizable gray wisps. She’d look like the monster and gold-digging wicked bitch she was. Gosh! I’d never disliked somebody as much as I did her. And I wanted to see her in pain. That was my life’s goal right now.

I needed to eliminate her so my family could return to normalcy. Robert would forgive me, and together with Dylan, we could start over.

‘You’re insane and sick. You’re so delusional’ Mysubconscious hissed, but I didn’t care. Revenge was the only thing that mattered right now to me, and I had to concentrate on it.

As the podcast ended, my gaze was drawn to the clock on my bedside table. Eleven p. m. Almost midnight. I needed to sleep, but not before I spoke with the private investigator I’d hired to track down the lovebirds constantly plaguing my mind.

As if on cue, my phone’s screen flashed with an incoming call, displaying his name. I took a long breath and answered the phone on the third ring.

“Yes. Any news?” I inquired, rubbing my tired eyes as I waited for an answer.

He softly cleared his throat. “Um, good evening to you too, ma’am.”

“Enough of your greetings, Kent. What do you have in store for me?” I demanded, trying to sound less irritated. I failed miserably.

Anything concerning Robert and that bitch, enraged me to no end.

“Um, you know of Mr. Clarke’s trip to Aspen with his side chick.” He said monotonously, and my lips curled in disgust.

Oh, yes. How could I have forgotten about their rash trip? It’d happened a few days before, and despite knowing how much it would cost me, I instructed Kent to follow them covertly and keep a watchful eye. I needed to know what they were up to so I could arrange my next steps accordingly.

Kent interrupted my thoughts once more. “They lodged in Mr. Clarke’s cabin and…”

I listened intently as he recounted their shady, amorous rendezvous. He didn’t leave anything out, including their sexcapades. Ugh. I attempted to mask my disdain with false curiosity, but I was dying inside.

My mind raced, and rage consumed my entire being.

When he was through, I asked stiffly, “You said they went somewhere this evening. Do you have any photos from the event?”

He responded quickly, clearly pleased with the question. “Yes. I have lots of images and videos. I’ll pull up the camera files and email them to you as soon as possible.”

“Good. Now, if you could just…” I began to ramble as something came to mind.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Kent spoke at the same time, his tone quickly changing. “Ma’am, is everything alright?”

“Um, yeah. I was just thinking of the next step and-”

“How about carrying out the blackmail scheme you talked about? Instead of waiting for them to return to Orlando, we could do it while they’re there and-”

“No! I’ve already carried out that plan. They must return to Orlando. I want to deal with them here. I need to teach Robert a fucking lesson before I can concentrate on that bitch!” I spat, my rage oozing out with every word.

“All right.”

“Hope no one saw you tonight?” I casually asked as my heart skipped a beat. I knew Kent would blend in well with the crowd at the event because he was an expert at what he did, but I couldn’t risk it.

I couldn’t risk any questionable activity on my part.

“No.” His response was prompt. “I managed to remain hidden. You should know by now that I always keep my tracks clean.”

“I know I can always count on you.”

“Always.”

We talked for a few more minutes before I hung up, letting out another sigh as the line went dead. A second later, my phone’s screen lit up, revealing a new message notification.

The photographs. Kent had sent me five photos and a video. They were easy to figure out, each one showcasing Robert and the pathetic bitch by his side.

In the first snap, they smiled at the camera while Robert whispered something in her left ear. His hand was around her waist, clutching a handful of her ass. I recoiled in disgust. In the second photo, they were seated in the hall, their mouths locked together. Bile came to the surface of my throat, but I forced it back down.

I looked through the last few photographs and watched the videos with trembling fingers. Though blurred, I could make out their features.

They seemed so happy-so in love-and I despised it. When Robert smiled at her, the look in his eyes filled me with anger, jealousy, and rage. It was excruciatingly painful.

Even though the hall was busy and people were mixing, Robert’s gaze was fixed on her, never leaving her side or looking elsewhere. If he did look elsewhere, well, I didn’t notice.

Every time she moved, his gaze was drawn to her, as if he were mesmerized and she was the only person in the room. Like she was the only thing that mattered to him, and it irritated me. Why? She was nothing more than a greedy whore after his money-nothing else. So what the hell did he see in her?

And what makes you any different from her? Aren’t you after his money as well?’ The voice in my head taunted. I ignored it.

I pressed my lips together and forced my eyes shut. I swallowed hard and breathed in and out, desperate to settle down before the madness got to me.

I unlocked my phone again shakily and went through the videos and images. I was tired of seeing them, of watching them hold hands, kiss, and act all lovey-dovey, but I couldn’t take my gaze away.

My blood burned as he paraded her about like a trophy, exposing her ugliness. She was nothing more than a fucking piece of trash with no name. She had no worth and no class.

“Arghhhh!” I screamed angrily, hurling the phone across the room and ignoring the dent it had made against the wall. It bounced twice before landing with a bang on the tiled floor.

It shattered on impact, and I stared at the floor, heaving furiously, as hot, angry tears burned my eyes and dripped down my cheeks.

My ragged and irregular breathing became worse, and I rolled over to my bedside, desperately searching for my Fentanyl pack. When I found it, I ripped the packaging open and took three pills, popping them into my mouth.

I’d overdosed, but it didn’t matter to me. Nothing else mattered except Robert and how to win him back.

A few minutes later, the tablets’ effects kicked in, and as my discomfort reduced, I also began to feel drowsy.

As I closed my eyes, my vision gradually became blurry. A sinister smile appeared on my lips, and just before the darkness devoured me whole, my eyes twitched devilishly, and a wicked sneer crept across my face.

Oh, I had plans for Robert. Well-crafted plans for both of us and no matter what obstacles were thrown my way, I would not stop until he was mine.

This, I swore with my life.