"Misdemeanours " by Jessica Knight

[ShortStoryContest]

The following story has been selected as a featured runner-up in our 2015 short story contest (Contest Theme - "The Self-Destructiveness of Vengeance and Hate")

"Misdemeanours " by Jessica Knight

Sitting in an unhygienic, rotting jail cell isn’t how someone would usually spend their time now is it? Well, not that it was exactly my fault. I mean sure, everyone goes to jail for some type of twisted reason: homicide, assault, kidnapping. But me? I’m here because I fulfilled my itching need for vengeance.

I know it sounds silly, but it is the only way I can seem to explain it. I had this burning inside of me which only grew and grew as the days progressed, the more I thought of him and his betrayal the more it expanded, until one day I couldn’t take it any longer and the fire ignited in my chest. The flame was now alight and there was nothing I could seem to do about it, except get my revenge.

So I did, and where did I end up? Left in a mouldy, old, underground cell to rot, that’s where. Nothing fancy right? Although I guess I have to face the consequences of the great satisfaction of making my twisted and demented thoughts become reality.

Everything has a price, I just guess mine is having to spend an eternity behind these rusty old bars.

But I guess it was all worth it, considering I got to watch the life drain out of her fearful eyes, observe her skin slowly fade from a flushed pink to a ghastly white, getting to experience the sensation of swinging the axe down on to her pathetic body, and to watch her fall limp onto the hard concrete floor.

I promise you, I‘m not some type of psychopathic freak as some might think, I have a perfectly justified reason as to why I did what I did.

I suppose people may think that you cannot rationalize homicide, but honestly I couldn’t care less. I don’t regret what I did, not in the slightest, even when I committed my crime I wasn’t naive to the fact that there would be consequences.

I take a seat on the lumpy mattress of my pathetic excuse of a bed and rest my head against the wall, remembering exactly how my hunger for vengeance had begun.

“No!” I hear my mother scream, as a loud thump echoes around the house making the window panes rattle.

I feel my body jump in fright as another scream bounces off the walls, I gently peel back the covers of my bed and gingerly walk towards the door, being careful to keep my presence unknown.

I watch as I see my father leaning against the door frame leading into my parents’ bedroom, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, shielding another person behind him.

My mother releases a scream of anguish and runs at my father trying to get to the silhouetted figure behind him.

“You!” Mother screams at the shadow, “You did this! You forced him into it didn’t you. Didn’t you!”

Father holds his ground and extends his arms out and rests them on Mother’s shoulders so my mum didn’t have any access to the person behind him.

“Tristyn! You promised me! You said you would never leave me, you promised you’d never cheat!” Mum shouts.

“Stop it Lidia,” my father quietly speaks as Mother drops to the floor in a sobbing heap.

I gently adjust the door so it is only slightly, ajar. I peek out from the shadows and look at Mother who is rocking on the floor mumbling incoherent words.

I hear a feminine cough sound from behind Father as she gently moves his arm off the frame, giving her access to the hall.

I internally gasp as I get a good look at her features, she has wavy strawberry blonde hair flowing just past her shoulders, a petite yet curvy frame and high cheek bones which highlight her icy blue eyes, emotionless blue eyes.

“I for one, think we should leave.” She says turning towards Father, her voice matching her cold eyes.

“That makes two of us,” he mutters, just loud enough for me to hear.

“Right,” The unidentified lady responds, “better start packing then Tristyn.”

My father nods his head in recognition before retreating back into the bedroom.

The lady walks over to my mother once Father was out of sight, she sighs heavily as she looks down on Mum who was sobbing uncontrollably and still uttering words under her breath.

“Get off the floor Lidia.” She sighs.

Mother seems to collect herself for a moment then manages to spit out, “make me.”

The lady grabs my mother and hauls her up suspending her in mid-air,

“Stop blubbering Lidia, he’s mine now. Start facing reality and get used to it.” She spits before proceeding to forcefully shove my mother back down and retreats back into the room.

Minutes later my father reappears, fully dressed and dragging two suitcases behind him, attached at the hip with the mystery lady.

“Goodbye for the last time Lidia,” Father growls at my mother.

Mother lunges forward and grabs my father’s leg, “don’t leave me!” She sobs, “we can work through this.’

Father battles for a moment before successfully shaking my mother off.

“You don’t care about her the way you do me! You don’t, you don’t!” Hiccups Mother, who is now glaring accusingly at him.

“Don’t I?” he challenges whipping his head towards Mum.

“You don’t!” She hisses, staring menacingly.

Father instantaneously drops the suitcases and grabs the woman and presses his lips to hers and continues to kiss her right in front of my mother.

They pull apart and my father meaningfully whispers, “I love you Ivy.” Before picking up the suitcases and proceeding to walk down the stairs.

If my mother wasn’t a mess before, she definitely is now. She is curled up, hiccupping and sobbing a consistent waterfall of tears streaming down her face.

My father and the so-called Ivy have now disappeared from my view.

I run out my bedroom and sprint down the stairs as I hear a car engine roar to life, I burst through the front door just to be greeted with the tail-lights of my father’s car as he speeds away out of sight for good... Or so he thought.

That night was where it had all started, my hatred, anger and hunger.

It could quite possibly be the worst night I have ever lived through believe it or not. I remember my father’s expression, cold and hard not a trace of emotion or love towards my mother, his eyes looked empty and soulless.

I deeply sigh and re-position myself due to my aching neck, luckily I managed to get a cell by myself instead of having to share with someone else, I internally shudder at the thought of more human contact than necessary.

I lean further back, trying to find some sort of comfort in this godforsaken place, I do realise violence is not going to solve all of my problems, in fact it gave me more issues than I would’ve liked to gain, although my crime did give me some sense of closure and it did make me feel like I was helping my mother in some sort of sick, twisted way.

Now, my mother after the incident was absolutely devastated. You see, my mother and father were high school sweethearts as some may say, so the weight of my father’s betrayal was too much for my mother to bare. This burden she carried resulted in her sitting on a cane rocking chair all day and all night, just staring out of the window waiting for the inevitable oblivion that was bound to come, without uttering a single word.

Therefore I was left alone, alone with an insane mother and nobody to watch over me. I am in no way stating that I cannot care for myself, because I am one hundred percent certain I am well and truly capable of that, but it is nice to know that there is somebody there for you, that you can go to when you need help, or for a simple conversation.

But no, all I had to talk to was the stuffed animals lining the shelves in my bedroom.

I know it seems silly, but although I was eighteen at the time, I still went out and bought teddy bears for some sort of company. I liked talking to them because it seemed like they were always listening, something my parents could never achieve.

I gently push myself from the mattress and begin to pace around the room, in the distance I can hear quiet muttering and muffled laughter, I could only assume it was my imagination as I am the only one on this floor, because according to the officers I had to be isolated and taken away from human contact due to my malevolent ways. But I’m not complaining, in fact I prefer to give myself company, I’ve been doing it for the past two years, what makes any difference now?

I sit with my back against the bars, the cool feeling of the metal relaxing me completely, I stare at the concrete wall in front of me which contained my only light source with was nothing more than an incredibly small barred window, due to it’s size all hopes of escaping this prison had been foiled.

Although I’m sure even if I did manage to leave I would surely be hunted down instantly because of my ‘horrendous’ felony. In my eyes I honestly don’t think it was that big of a deal, but each for their own right?

I still remember first coming to this place, the officers pushing me along the halls of yelling criminals reaching their arms out through the metal bars trying to grab at us.

They were yelling all sorts of profanities and other inappropriate statements, even though I thought I was indestructible at the time I was shaking in my boots at the sight of these crazed prisoners.

I got led down endless supplies of stairs until we reached the bottom and I was shoved in this dusty, greasy cell. Instantly I could tell this place hadn’t been occupied in years.

I vaguely recall one man yelling out, “welcome home, criminal!”

I was mortified at the thought of being referred to as a criminal, but after spending several months here I’ve gotten used to it. It isn’t really that big of a deal, just a pathetic title people like to call us to make them sound superior, like they were totally perfect and innocent, as if hadn’t had their own little misdemeanours.

Except the majority of us locked in here had taken misdemeanour to the next level.

It wasn’t too long ago when I committed my felony. In fact, it was just one year after my father proved his disloyalty and ran off with Ivy.

When I was nineteen I was proven guilty for the cold blooded murder of Ivy Paytas. Yes I murdered my father’s mistress, and I also made sure my father was well informed, in fact, he was chained to a chair watching the whole thing!

In case you’re wondering, no, I did not murder my father, I wanted to make him feel the pain I felt when I lost my father and my mother, I refused to put him out of his misery and save him the pain, I wanted him to hurt, and I wanted him to hurt bad!

I crept into his house late at night and drugged them, so I could transfer them to the basement without the risk of them waking up, I chained my father to a chair and waited for them to awaken. Once they both awoke I didn’t hesitate to lecture my father and inform him of what his unfaithfulness had caused as I murdered his mistress, finally making him feel all the pain I had bottled up all these years.

I had ended up breaking down in tears in that room, screaming profanities at my father and not hesitating to express my absolute hatred for him, during my tantrum I didn’t once stop and think about the fact the police were probably already on the way as Ivy didn’t mind making a hell of a racket as the homicide progressed.

Next thing I knew I was being dragged to the police station, being judged by people who didn’t even know why I did what I did, all of them jumping to conclusions.

I was sent to court, and as I couldn’t afford a lawyer I didn’t even have someone to fight for me and explain my side of the story, I was proven guilty and sent straight to jail, and here I am now, nothing has changed, I am just as useless as I was yesterday, and the day before that, and so on.

There is no reason why I should continue living in the hell hole people like to call earth, I have no parents, Mother is well and truly insane and Father most definitely hates me, nobody cares about me, nobody ever will, especially now I have been labelled as a psychopath, people automatically assume I would be tempted to murder again, not caring that my felony was due to revenge and that I don’t have a reason to kill anyone else.

I suppose I’m living like my mother, waiting for the inevitable. I grimace hating to compare myself to the useless excuse of a mother I had, and who could blame me? I decide I’m not going to sit around and wait for death to find me, I’m going to find death.

I shakily stand and determinedly march towards my bed and begin to aggressively tear up my cheap bed sheets, tightly tying the strips of fabric together, one after the other making an average sized rope. I grabbed the end of it and tied it a little further up the rope, successfully creating a noose.

No point in writing a suicide note, nobody would care anyway.

I glance around the roof, looking and the small barred window in the corner of the room, I grab a grimy chair and position it underneath it.

Due to my rather tall height, I could stand on my tippy-toes on the chair and tie it around one of the metal bars relatively easily, knotting it firmly in place, I determinedly put my head though the loop and immediately feel pressure on my throat.

I step backward onto the arm of the chair and forcefully kick it out from under me, as the chair fell away I felt all of the air knocked out of my lungs as I feel my throat close up, the fabric of the sheets cutting off my circulation, I try and shakily gasp, just to make sure this was going to be successful.

The attempt at inhaling air just caused me more pain as the oxygen tried to squeeze itself through my closed windpipes.

I can feel myself slowly falling in and out of consciousness as I wonder how long it’s going to take anybody to find me down here, it doesn’t matter really, the police will probably be happy to have another unoccupied cell.

My body would probably end up in a garbage can, as I couldn’t have a funeral because nobody would show up. I may’ve had a chance of my father coming but I surely ruined that didn’t I?

Maybe if I hadn't have killed Ivy I wouldn’t be hanging here right now and waiting for the arms of death to take me in, I could’ve been starting a family, but I threw away my chances of ever being happy again the minute I committed homicide.

Black spots begin to cloud my vision as death approaches me, my lungs scream for air as I feel my body growing limp.

I welcome death with open arms, my life has already been foiled, and it has been ever since I wielded that axe.

I feel my body shake as my lungs cave in and my body hangs limply from the noose, all traces of life drained from my body, never to return.

I don’t care if I have to face eternal darkness, this feeling has caused me to lose the will to survive, maybe now I can be finally at peace, all of my mistakes and regrets now put to rest, anything was better than staying on this hell-hole people like to call earth.