Sara

14

The following morning dawned harsh and sunny. Sara reviewed her plan in her mind, running over every detail she had mapped out. She only had one chance, one opportunity to kill Darius. She had to make it count. She had to get this right the first time.

Sara pulled her coat on after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. Glancing around her apartment, she picked up the pen she had selected last night, tapping the end with her finger. She had found it in her junk drawer as the pen no longer wrote, but it was stronger than the average plastic pen. Now, she was glad she had kept it.

She picked up The Bourne Identity DVD case from her table and tossed it onto the couch. It was thanks to that movie that she had come up with her plan to kill Darius. Fingering the pen, she knew she would only have one shot, one chance. One opportunity to get this right.

One moment in which to get both justice and revenge.

Why kid yourself? This isn't about justice anymore, just revenge. When did this simply become about revenge?

Sara ignored the little voice in her head as she took a sip from her glass of water. She had mapped out her plan driving home last night, finalizing it once she reached her apartment, making sure her plan was foolproof. Then she had consulting the first Bourne movie, using scene selection to find one particular scene in the movie, the one that had inspired her choice of weapon.

She wouldn't be able to bring her gun into the prison; she didn't want to risk bringing a pocketknife. So she had chosen the pen, a harmless object that became deadly when used with intention.

The pen is mightier than the sword, after all, she thought grimly.

Placing the pen on her kitchen table, Sara headed into her room to lock up her pistol in the gun safe. After making sure it was secured, she grabbed her keys, smiled softly at the blue jay keychain sitting in the basket, and grabbed her purse off the coffee table, setting everything down on the kitchen table before hurrying into the bathroom for her first-aid kit.

She took a box of Band-Aids from the kit and opened them, pulling out several of the bandages. Taking the pen up, she hitched up her blouse slight and proceeded to tape the pen to her skin, using the Band-Aids to make sure it stayed there until she needed it. Once that was accomplished, she pulled her blouse over the pen and grabbed her keys and purse.

I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare.

Time to go.

I'm going down swinging.

Sara left her apartment, locking the door behind her with a sense of finality. Darius would be dead before tonight and she would be in prison for murder, having gotten her revenge. Darius had stolen her sister from her, from her mother, from her patients and friends. He would pay, no matter how much Sara had to pay for justice, or revenge.

Eye for an eye, a life for a life.

No memories of Leah rose to mind as Sara swung into her car, turning on the radio still playing Fall Out Boy's first album. She turned up the volume, the songs becoming the anthem begging for Darius' death.

"You might hold your breath, until your breathing stops forever, forever."

All the songs seemed to express Sara's rising anger and hatred. I will ensure Darius never sees the light of day again. If the price is losing the sunlight myself, I am willing to pay it.

This is for you, Leah.

"I want to hate you half as much as I hate myself."

Oh, I do. I hate him more than that, no doubt.

The entire ride to the prison was absent of any memories of Leah, although Sara had spent hours listening to this very album with her; every word, line, chord, and scream of Take This To Your Grave was impressed with some memory of Leah. But none of them were triggered, although the entire album had played and was beginning to play again by the time Sara reached the prison.

This is it.

Turning her car off, Sara got out and locked the doors, making sure her pen was safe, the Band-Aids still securing it to her side, hidden beneath her blouse. Then she took a deep breath, glanced up at the bright blue sky overhead, and began her walk through the snow toward the entrance.

Goodbye, freedom.

Hello, vengeance.