A Winding Road to Revenge

An Average Monday

The man tied to the chair was nearly unconscious and Rowan was bored. She'd gotten the information she needed an hour ago and had just continued to mess with him for fun, but he didn't need to know that.

He wasn't nearly as strong as he looked and had given in far earlier than she had predicted, and hoped - it was always more fun when they put up more of a fight. His arms were limp at his side and if it wasn't for the rope around his middle he would probably be on the floor in a heap.

It was rather pathetic.

Rowan shuffled the chair closer to him, smirking at his somewhat limp body struggling to hold itself up.

"Now, have you had enough fun?" she asked, patting him not so lightly on the cheek and then grabbing his chin with her thumb and index finger. Her voice was falsely sweet. "Because I need to decide what to do to make sure you don't breathe a word of any of this to anyone."

"What?" he breathed, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he spoke. Rowan turned up her nose as the saliva and blood mixture dribbled down her fingers.

"Obviously the first thing you're going to do is blab to the police and I'd rather not have the hassle."

He breathed heavily as he studied her, his eyes a mix of fear and exhaustion. Then, Rowan felt a warm weight on her leg and looked down to see his hand resting there as if it had been invited.

"Don't you think we can reach an agreement sweetheart?" he said with a suggestive grin. His chubby hand slid further up her thigh, her flesh shivering and flinching away from the unwanted contact. She tilted her head and watched him with cold eyes, her free hand gliding across the handle of the gun tucked down the back of her trousers.

Rowan sighed and pouted, "Pity, you were doing so well."

She stood up, dropping his chin, drawing the weapon, and wiping his hand from her leg with the barrel of her gun, in one smooth movement. She relished the brief confusion on his face which swiftly turned to fear as she cocked the pistol and it met with the beads of sweat on his forehead.

His eyes stared at her, full of panic.

It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" More blood dribbled from his mouth as he spoke. "I'm a nice guy, really."

She turned her nose up again and rolled her eyes.

Almost enough.

"Shame," she sighed, tilting her head to one side. "It's always the nice ones."

The gunshot echoed off the stone walls of the basement.

The man went limp once more.

Rowan stared at the lifeless body and then down at the bloodstains on her pale blue shirt and sighed.

She was going to need to get some more hydrogen peroxide.