Be Their Hell

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It turned out I did not have the makings to torture a man, even one as foul as Fred. I lasted less than ten minutes before making an excuse to go upstairs. I needed some fresh air.

Alastor met me outside on his front porch, his shirtsleeves rolled up to avoid any blood, "I thought you wanted to make him pay."

"I do," I sighed, leaning against the rail, "I'm just not the torturing type. I can't inflict pain like that on someone, no matter what they've done to me or mine."

Alastor leaned against the rail next to me so close our shoulders were almost touching, "Yet you want to make sure he pays the debt he is due." 

I nodded, "What men like Fred do is despicable. They trick innocent girls into prostitution and then destroy their lives. They deserve everything Hell has to offer."

Alastor's voice was soft as he replied, "Then be their Hell."

I thought about it. I had watched my family grieve over the mental torture Fred had put them through. When we tried to fight back, we had been drug into court over stupid lawsuits and threatened with violence. 

When I thought about Fred threatening my grandfather, my anger flared. Seeing a change in demeanor, Alastor said, "Use what he did to you and make him pay for it."

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