With These Hands

Chapter One

I struggled against my restraints, the ropes around my arms rubbed against raw skin, escape was made to look so much easier in movies! I heard my basement door open and shut, the light from upstairs temporarily blinded me. I heard him slowly walk down each step individually. He was probably trying to instill fear in me.

"You're so dramatic" I whispered

I knew I could run my mouth, he hadn't hurt me, and I was guessing he needed me intact.

"I was unaware defense Hardin had such a pretty sister" he said stopping in front of me.

I scoffed. "Once I get out of here-"

"You'll what? Kill me? I wouldn't even blink before shooting you between the eyes" he said measuredly

I tried to throw myself forward but to no avail. He sighed like he was deeply disappointed in me and a rag was thrust into my face. Funny thing about chloroform is that it doesn't knock you out as quickly as you think... they found a lot of diazepam in my blood, I thought that porridge tasted weird. My eyes stung as I did my best to not breath in, but it was futile.

I don't really remember sleeping, it was like when you have an operation anesthetic. There was probably a long wake-up time, but I don't remember much. The hours and the days all blended together in the soup that was my brain. I learnt it was about a week altogether.

As much as I loved my brother, he wasn't the best defense. Meaning eventually I was no longer needed intact, my brother failed, and it was time to for someone to pay.

"it's not personal, Stephanie" he said as he handcuffed me to my dining room chair.

My mind was swimming. The handcuffs weren't as tight as the rope and everyone in my family had double jointed thumbs, so I folded my thumbs into my palms and as he bended down to tie my feet I sprang up and made a break for the mantle where my father's old shotgun sat.

I cocked the shot gun and aimed at his forehead.

"Don't be silly, there's no way that old thing still works" he took a step towards me

"You want to find out?!" I yelled thrusting the gun at him. He stopped walking and put his hands up

He still hadn't put his gun down and I gestured for him to do so. He didn't move.

I took a breath and I fired.

He fell to the floor, I should have stayed and checked he was dead but instead I ran out the front door.

15 years later

I speed through the streets, I'm anxious to get home and go to bed. A lot could change in fifteen years. I no longer lived in a house, I was too wary of something or someone around every corner. Shelly de Killer was never caught, the police found a huge pool of blood, more than any normal human could lose but then he started popping up again, killing people and leaving calling cards.

I had gotten a large open plan penthouse apartment, not bad for Senator Stephanie Hardin. I lived alone. When I was 30 quite a few men showed interest in me, but I out my head down to focus on my career and myself and when I looked back again, I was 40 and most men were gone but I liked holding the remote and opening jars myself.

I tear into the underground parking lot and swing into my parking spot.

I wait till I see the garage door close before getting out of my car.

I pour myself a glass a wine and congratulate myself on completing another day of work. Every time the leader of the opposition spoke, I wanted to launch myself across the room and strangle him. Justin Priviledge would be the death of me. I look at my diary and remember that tomorrow I have to watch a speech by a foreign minister. Why it the speech was taking part in a park I had no clue, but it seemed like a good idea to turn up and shake hands.