Hell Hath No Fury

I open my eyes slowly and let everything come into focus. All I see is white. My first thought is this: Am I dead? But, no. I realize that the room I am in is white. I look around a little closer and notice there is a certain softness to the walls. It takes me a moment longer to realize my hands are bound around me. And then another moment to realize that it’s a straightjacket.

And then it all rushes back to me.

Images flow behind my eyes as I squeeze them shut, trying to block out what I don’t want to remember. But I see it all. I feel sick as I am reminded of what I have done.

                                                 ***

Part one.

Gone, and hopefully forgotten

One week ago

Only darkness helps.

It’s the only thing that kept the eyes away from me. Those eyes that judge and criticize and stab me all over when I turn my back. It’s the only thing that keeps me from driving myself insane.

My phone buzzes on my bed-side table. I reach for it to turn it off, but the name I see on the screen startles me.

James.

My heart leaps as I almost drop my phone trying to answer his call.

“James! I’ve been calling you for days!”

“I know, Melody. I’m not calling to chat. Or to forgive you. Or tell you that I am going to forget what you did. So don’t count on it.”

“James—,”

“You’re sorry. Yeah, you mentioned that. That isn’t going to do anything for you. I only called you to see if I left my head phones at your house.” My lip trembles and I feel like breaking down to cry, but I can't let him know I’m hurt. It takes me a minute to compose myself.

“Melody? Are you still there?” he asks. He sounds annoyed.

“You used to call me Mel,” I say before I can stop myself. Realizing what I said, I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a sob.

“Yes, well that was before you were a tramp and—,”

“Stop! Just stop!” I end the call and throw my phone against the wall. It shatters. I can almost hear James on the other end calling me a crazy bitch, the way he did when he broke up with me.

I feel dizzy. It takes me a moment to realize that I am not breathing. But once I take a breath, almost automatically, the tears start to fall. I pull the covers over my head and cry myself to sleep for the fifth night in a row.

                                                 ***

I sleep, but my mind filled with nightmares.

I wake after the first two, but I cannot wake up during the third. In each dream, I am the fault of James’s death. Each is more frightening, more horrifying, and more realistic than the last.

The third dream seeped into my bones and every crevice of my brain, sure to stay there for the rest of my life. But for only one reason: I relived every moment of what had happened…only, I ended up killing James.

I wake up without covers and drenched in sweat. I shiver. I feel a warm hand on my back, so I turn around. My mother.

“What are you doing in here?” I grumble, my throat raw.

“You were screaming in the night, again. When I came in here you were thrashing around your bed. You must have had some terrifying dreams. Were they worse than last time?”

“You would never even believe.” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force the memories away. Mom mutters something about James and stalks out of the room. I sit up in my bed and bring my knees up so that I sit in a ball. Without meaning to, I am suddenly carried away by memories I wish I could just forget.

Another week before:

“Why won't you love me?” he asked. “James will never know. He’s completely blind. I can assure you, he will never know.”

“I would know. I would be the one having to live with it. I love James. I’m not going to cheat on him with you. You shouldn’t even be asking me this. You’re supposed to be his best man. Right?” I raised an eyebrow at him as I put a book back on its shelf. The library was starting to clear out; it was closing in five minutes.

“You’re right. But don’t you think you should be able to have one last guy in your life before you get married? I mean, you’re nineteen years old. You aren’t going to stay young forever.” He nudged me, trying to make me give in.

“No, I don’t think that. I think that marriage is a commitment, and I am committing to James. I’m not going to cheat on him, no matter how many other people think I should.”

“Melody, you need a little fun in your life. I mean, come on. You’re a student librarian. You need to do something risky once in a while.” He walked down a random isle, further into the library.

“I live a calm life and I intend to keep it like that.” I chased him down the aisle. He stopped. He grabbed for me and kissed me. I tried to back up, but he moved with me. He ended up pushing me into a book shelf, forcing his tongue into my mouth. At first I was too startled to do anything, but after another second, I pushed him away as hard as I could, knocking him into another book shelf.

“What the fuck, Jordyn? What the hell did I just say?” I yelled. He smiled at me and backed out of the aisle, giving me a look that told me he still wasn’t going to give up.

“I don’t think she can hear me, Mom.”

“She’s been doing that a lot, lately. She’ll snap out of it eventually.”

I become aware of my surroundings, and then I see my sister and my mother standing over me. I groan, not wanting to talk to them. I find the covers on the floor, from where I kicked them in the night, and pull them over my head. My mother pulls them back and grabs my hand. She pulls me to my feet.

“Damn, Mel, when did you shower last?” my sixteen year old sister, Kristen, comments.

“Five days ago,” I answer, half-heartedly.

“Well, we have plans for you today, and one of them just became showering. Go on.” My mother leads me to my bathroom.

After I shower, I feel slightly better. When I dry off and come into my room, I see my bed stripped of its blankets and sheets, with an outfit laying across it. Just a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off shorts. I put them on and trudge downstairs.

The first thing I see is my mother and Kristen sitting on the couch, and Camille, Kristen’s twin, sitting on the love seat in front of them. And then I see my father standing over another person in the recliner.

James.

I almost throw up when I see him, but there is no food in my system. Once my mother turns to look at me, everyone else does, too. Even James. The looks on Mom’s, Dad’s Camille’s, and Kristen’s faces are full of worry and sadness. The look on James’s face is full of disgust and pure hate.

“What the hell—,” I start. Mom explains that everyone is worried about me, so they brought James here so we can “work things out.” She says that she and the twins will leave to give us privacy, but Dad is going to stay to make sure that James doesn’t get out of hand. Before I can object, she and the twins go out the door, leaving Dad, James and I.

“Dad, why was this necessary?”

“No kidding. I just want to get out of here so I can leave this entire psychotic family behind me.” James hissed. I feel a little pang in my chest.

“Actually, I am glad they did this, now that I think about it. You never gave me a chance to explain.” I retort.

“Explain what? How you cheated on me? How do you explain that?”

“James, you don’t understand—,”

“Oh, I understand, alright. I understand that you’re a lying, cheating bitch.”

“Hey, now—,” my dad interjects. I cut him off.

“I can handle this, dad. James, you’re not listening to me. I need to explain.”

“There is nothing to explain! You cheated on me with my best friend!” He is yelling now.

“James, listen to me! You’re wrong!” I try to keep my voice lower than his.

“Why should I? You have done nothing in the past two weeks but lie to me! Why should I listen to a word you say?” he yells. I lose my temper, and my secret pours out of my mouth before I realize it has.

“Because I was raped, you bastard!”

Part two.

With great power comes revenge.

When I realize what I said, I sink to my knees.

James, or my dad, don’t seem to know how to respond. James’s face had gone white the moment the words left my lips. I assume my father’s did the same. The look on James’s face says “panic”, but that doesn’t match the words that come out of his mouth.

“You’re a liar. You’re a liar,” he backs away from me and pretty much runs out of the house. Dad doesn’t make any move to stop him. I turn around and head for the back door.

“I’m going for a walk.” I yell as I grab my jacket. I leave and slam the door behind me.

***

I walked out James’s front door and head home. I was almost halfway there when I saw a pickup roll up beside me. I saw Jordyn inside, no one else.

“Can I talk to you, Mel? It’s kind of important.”

“No,” I said, still walking. I don’t look at him.

“Come on. I know I was wrong for kissing you at the library last night. I really shouldn’t have done that. At least let me make it up to you,” he insisted.

“Jordyn. I am not talking to you about this. The kiss never happened, okay? It’s forgotten. Happy?”

“Not if you're mad at me. At least let me drive you home. Please?” He stopped the truck. I stopped walking and looked at him. He had a look on his face that begged to be forgiven, so I climbed into the passenger side.

He started driving again, once I got in and put my seatbelt on, like usual. When we got to my neighborhood, he sped the truck up. I told him we had passed my house. He told me he needed a map out of the glove box. He opened it up and pulled out a gun. I froze.

“If you do anything except what I tell you, I will shoot you.” He said, pointing the gun to my temple.

At some point, I end up at a park, three miles from my house. I have thirty bucks in the back pocket of my jeans from the last time I wore them, a lighter, and a gold watch locket that James gave me for my eighteenth birthday. It was also our three year anniversary.

I sit on the swing for over an hour. Just thinking. I remember how he told me he thought I was lying. How he stormed out of the house. Every second I spend remembering, I get angrier. I feel like punching something. I clench my teeth together. I no longer feel sad or vulnerable the way I have for the past week. All the hurt from then, transforms into anger in seconds. Now, I only know one thing.

Jordyn needs to pay.

***

I remember Jordyn’s cell number off the top of my head.

I ask a random woman if I can use her cell phone. I text the number and tell him to meet me at the address to an old motel. I know of it because I pass it on the way to work at the library. When I am finished with the text, I look for the woman whose phone I borrowed. She is talking to her friend a few feet away. Instead of giving it back to her, I run. It takes her a minute to notice me missing, and by then, I am too far away for her to catch. I look back and see her stop running after a block. I run two more blocks just to be safe, then I stop and take my jacket off, and flip it inside out to show the pattern on the inside; it’s a reversible coat. My luck.

I take the American Flag case off of the phone and throw it in the bushes as I walk away. I don’t even feel bad. I need a new phone anyway. I broke mine last night.

I shuffle through the phone and delete everything on it; all the contacts, pictures, everything. I look for the service plan and see that it is a prepaid phone. I sigh with relief. I can still call and text off of it. But I am going to have to change the number.

I am nearing my location when I receive a text from Jordyn.

Who is this?

I decide not to lie. I respond telling him it’s Melody. He responds quickly.

Prove it.

I take a picture and send it to him with my middle finger in the air. Again, he responds within seconds.

Be right there.

I am in the ally next to the building, waiting for him when I see a man in his twenties leaning against the back of his truck. On the tailgate is a big, shiny butcher knife about a foot long. He stops me as I walk by, seeing me looking at it.

“Hey, lady. Wanna buy this? It’s only twenty,” he says, his cigarette bopping up and down in his mouth as he talked. It takes me a fraction of a second to decide.

“I’ll give you thirty.”

***

I put my hands in up immediately, not wanting to defy him.

He drives with one hand and presses the gun to my head with the other. I took slow, shallow breaths.

“Jordyn, why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Shut the fuck up!” he ordered. He pressed the gun harder into my head. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I could feel my hands shaking with fear.

He drove for ten minutes in silence. By the time we stopped, my arms were aching from holding them up, and I just wanted to cry. Jordyn drove with one hand on the gun at all times, even though it wasn’t pointed at me every single minute. Those minutes, I considered pulling the lock up on the door and jumping out, but I knew that he would eventually get his way, except next time, I would be dead.

When he ordered me out of the pickup, pointing the gun at me again, I followed his orders. He told me to put my hands above my head. He duct-taped them together. He pushed me to the ground. I couldn’t use my hands to brace myself, so the impact hurt. I cried out.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to find a different place…any place in my mind to take me far away from here.

***

He drove me back to my house.

He grabbed a bag from the back seat and took out a hair brush and baby wipes. He handed them both to me and told me I wasn’t going to leave the pickup without “freshening up”. He made me brush my hair and wipe my running makeup off my face. When I was done, he told me that if I told anyone, he would find out, and he would come back and kill me. After all, he knew where I lived. He said if I forgot about it, he would leave me alone. I didn’t want to argue with him. I told him it was forgotten, even though I was trembling ferociously.

Which was why, a week later, I was surprised when James broke off our engagement. I asked why and all he said was not to act stupid. He said he had Jordyn waiting for me with his pickup to take me home, because he couldn’t even look at me. I walked cautiously towards the pickup outside when James kicked me out of his house. Jordyn was in the front seat.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he offered, as if nothing happened between us.

“I’d rather walk.”

“You and I are going to talk. I won't drive you home, but we’re going to talk before you leave. Get in.” He shut his pickup off, removed the key, and threw it on the dashboard. I got in.

“I told James you cheated on him. With me,” he said. I had no response. My mouth just fell open. “You and James would have been getting married. You tell him everything. I couldn’t risk you telling him what happened.”

“I wouldn’t have—,”

“Yes you would have. Eventually. And, Melody, You will go along with this. Consider it part of a deal. You follow my orders, I won't kill you,” he said. “So, you will go along with this. Got that?”

I nodded.

All I did was nod.

It is an hour before I hear a pickup stop by the ally way. I am hiding in the shadows, puffing on the last of three bummed cigarettes. I hear footsteps walking towards me.

“Melody. Stop with your games. Get out here.” Jordyn yells. I step out from where I’m standing and reveal myself. While I was waiting I tore the t-shirt I was wearing around my waist to show my belly ring.

“Jordyn,” I say.

“What do you want?”

“Well, I’ve been getting lonely since James broke off our engagement. And you were right. You’re only young for a little while.” I take a single step towards him.

“Are you high?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Maybe a little,” I lie. I wave him towards me. He comes until he’s right in front of me. It takes a little strength, but when he gets close enough, I wrap my arms around him and kiss him. I kiss him for what feels like hours, but really it’s only been minutes. He gets too involved in it; paying too much attention to my tongue in his mouth to see or feel me reach behind my back, grab the knife from the back of my shorts, and plunge it into his stomach.

His eyes widen as he steps away from me. I yank the knife back out and watch as he falls. I lean down next to him and whisper in his ear.

“You were right about another thing, Jordyn. I ‘need to something risky once in while’. Is this risky enough?” I wrap his shirt in my fist.

“Crazy bitch,” he sputters. I just smile and let him go. I wipe the knife clean of blood on his t-shirt.

“You can say that. But let me say this,” I pause. “You ruined my life. So now I’m ruining yours.” I search him for his phone. When I find it, I shove it in my back pocket. I get up and step over his body, careful to avoid blood. I walk to the end of the ally, shoving the knife into my jacket. When I get back into direct sunlight, I look around. No one sees me. I act normal for two blocks and then I put my hood up and run. I stop and look at Jordyn’s phone. There’s an unread text.

A text from James.

I open it.

Melody broke down and told her dad you attacked her. I was there. Damn bad I didn’t get my turn. Lay low for a while.

I frown at the phone. I re-read the message over and over until tears spring to my eyes. I immediately wipe them away. I text James back an address and said we’d meet there to talk, but I don’t say that it’s not Jordyn who’s responding.

I walk down the path that would sure lead me to hell as I realize one thing:

It was James’s turn

Part three.

Attempt at his life

The address I send James isn’t a significant one. It’s just an abandoned factory building. No one has used it for two years. A group of my friends used to come here to hang out in high school. Some other people from my school used it as a place to get high, thinking it was a safe-haven from the cops. They stopped using it for that when they got busted for smoking pot there on several occasions. So it’s rarely used anymore. It’s perfect.

I, again, have to wait about an hour before my victim shows up. I get annoyed at having to wait so long. I almost walk out into plain sight, but I think better of it and hide behind the pallets that are stacked next to the door. I watch as James walks by me, only feet away. He looks around for a moment and then pulls out his phone and begins to text to Jordyn’s phone. Only a few seconds go by before I realize that I forgot to turn the sound off of Jordyn’s phone, but by the time I reach for it in my pocket, James sends it, and it’s too late. The phone goes off, and even though it’s a short ringtone, it’s enough for James to hear. I cringe as I see him stepping towards me, unsure of what was going on.

It’s time to act. It’s now or never.

As soon as he’s close enough, I fling out my arm as fast as I can and hit him in the ear with my fist. He is startled by the sudden attack, which sends him stumbling backwards, and eventually he loses balance and falls. I take advantage of the moment and kick him hard in the groin. He gasps for air and doubles over on his side. I roll him over onto his back and I crawl on top of him, my knees pinning down his arms. My hair falls over my shoulder into his face. I have the knife to his throat. He blinks a few times at me, not sure if he’s seeing things right.

“What the hell, Melody?” he groans. “What the hell are you doing?

“You tell me, James,” I say through my teeth.

“You really are crazy,” is all he says. He struggles against me, trying to unpin his arms from me, but it’s hopeless. I have him down hard. I take the knife away from his throat and put it against his forehead. I make a cut. He groans.

“Oh, I'm sorry, James. Am I hurting you? I didn’t know you felt pain. I didn’t know you felt anything. I definitely don’t think you feel emotional pain. Especially because you knew your fiancée was raped by your best friend! You see, a normal person would be angry if their best friend sexually assaulted their fiancée of eight months, and girlfriend for four years. But I guess you don’t like to do things the normal way. And what the hell did you mean by ‘it’s too bad I didn’t get my turn’? I mean, we were going to be married next summer. It’s not like you had to force me to have sex. We’ve been together for four years!” I say. By now the knife is back in its original spot, at his throat. I smile.

“Why do you have Jordyn’s phone? What happened? What did you do?” he says in a whisper, obviously scared of my answer.

“Oh, James. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. You have plenty of other things to worry about, don’t you?” I slightly cut the skin by his jaw. I watch with a smile as he grimaces in pain.

“You’re crazy. You’ve gone nuts,” he points out. His eyes are wide, staring into mine.

“You know, that’s what Jordyn said too, just before the light left his pathetic eyes.” I press harder with the knife when I say the word “pathetic”, as if it illustrates a point.

“You killed him?”

“Oh, we’re finally catching on? I’ve said a little bit much. But I suppose it won't matter, soon.” I laugh a little and cut him, hard, with the knife on his arm. He screams through his teeth, fighting to get away from me, but I dig in with the knife, and he must suddenly feel too weak, because he stops struggling. He just screams until I take the knife away. I look at my work. It’s about a six inch cut, already gushing blood.

“It’s a shame, James. I loved you. And now I just want one more thing before you die,” I say. Still holding the knife to his throat, I bend down and kiss him. I kiss him like I used to, before any of this. Before any problems with Jordyn. I kiss him like I did when he proposed. Like I did every time he told me he loved me. When I pull away, I kiss his cheek, I kiss the spots where there were tears, born from the cut I made on his arm. Then, I raise my arm up, ready for a blow to his chest. Out of nowhere, he jerks to the left throwing me off balance. I fall off him, and he gets up and runs as fast as he can towards his pickup. I know that if he gets in it, he will get away. I won't be able to catch him because I walked here. I sprint as fast as I can, but he’s too fast, and he gets to his pickup. I get there seconds later, though. He knows he won't make it if he doesn’t do something to get rid of me, so he grabs me, hard and wrenches me to the side. I fall to the ground, and I forget, for a second, which hand my knife is in. I suddenly remember when I fall onto the blade with my arm. It slices open the skin about a foot wide. I waste seconds focusing on the wound, forgetting about my fleeing victim, and sadly, he leaves, and I can no longer chase him because there’s no hope in catching him again. So I just sit in the dirt and watch his pickup speed away.

Part four.

Woken

Present.

Now, I sit here in my padded cell, bound only by a strait jacket. In a way, I am thankful. If not for the jacket around me, I would have fallen apart already, I would be feeling sorry for myself. But this contraption has held me together. It is a reminder of what I have done, and instead of feeling sorrow, feeling grief, I feel anger. Anger as I am reminded of what I did to them. Anger as I realize what could have been done better. But it’s all over now. It’s no good to think this way.

As I sit there, I don’t know how much time has passed. I don’t know how long ago I was put here. But I do remember these facts:

1. James          went right to the police after he got away from me. That’s a          given. If he hadn’t have, I wouldn’t be going to fact          number two.

            

2. The          police show up at my door three, maybe four, hours later.          

            

3. I          go away in handcuffs, kicking and screaming and throwing punches. I          somehow got the handcuffs from behind me to in front of me; I don’t          remember how. But because of that, the cops were unable to control          me and therefor called for backup. Said I was crazy.

            

4. I          become enraged. I scream and I kick at them. My heart rate goes up          and up and up…

            

5. An          ambulance and another cop car show up. I'm still yelling and          screaming, my heart rate still climbing.          

            

6. I          start to seize. It all gets fuzzy after that…

And that’s all I remember. Except maybe…I remember a little bit of when I woke up from what might have been a medical induced coma. I remember seeing my family around my bed and then me throwing another fit, but it may have all been a dream. I recall the memory with a haze in my eyes. It’s not clear, like there’s plastic over the lens of a camera. I don’t know if it really happened. But if it had, then I know how I ended up here, in a padded room meant for psychopaths. But, then again, I might just be a psychopath, too.