Miss Toulouse Home for Unwanted Girls

Chapter 35

Until our paths cross again ......

Hidden under the bush, Dexter silently watches in rage at what unfolds before him. He angrily hisses in utter disgust, his fur standing on end as he watches his chosen master betray him and the Devil for these snivelling, pathetic bitches.

"What a weak woman you are Evelyn," he silently curses, "to turn your back on immortality and power."

He quietly slinks unseen out of the garden to retreat to the dark alley for shelter, the place he has spent many nights watching over this house and its occupants. Hidden safety away in the darkness amongst the trash and decay.

Disheartened but not prepared to give up, he would watch and wait until further instructions. He would wait patiently until the dark lord rose again, to seek his revenge on those retched whores.

This isn't done, this is not over.

When he does come back, the Devil will see Dexter's unwavering loyalty and he will be repaid by getting his pound of flesh from Phoenix, she will rue the day she crossed him and ended his life.

Dexter knew in his blacken, shrunken dark heart that Evelyn was not the only one to work for the Devil - she was but only one of many put on this earth to do his biddings. He trusted that a new master would soon be sent his way for him to follow. He knew the Devil always had something up his sleeve.

Until then he will patiently wait and watch amongst the shadows, hidden away with all the other monsters and beasts of the night.

                      The end......for now

...............................................

1995 - The Devils delinquent Delilah, her early days of  training and Dexters future master.........

A whoosh of euphoria crashes through my veins, for the first time in months, I can breathe.

My thoughts are clear and the mist that usually clouds my mind is gone- there is nothing but beautiful clarity.

The beautiful silence surrounds me like a gentle hug as I watch a tear of blood trickle down his face, from the perfectly sharpened pencil I'd just jammed into his once piercing blue eye, which is now bright crimson as the blood fills up in the eye socket, I think to myself how that pencil has probably penetrated his brain and relish how excruciating that must have been.

His large droopy mouth is hung low, where he attempted to scream before he slipped into the darkness of death. His head unceremoniously tilted backwards. I hold in a naughty little chuckle to myself as I consider how much he looks like a Muppet, that's about to burst into song.

I know the cleaners have already done their rounds, the school is empty as he knew it would be, after all, that is why he invited me back; so no one would witness his deplorable behaviour to a minor.

I'm not the first girl to be cornered by this rank coffee breathed, balding, pot-bellied sad pathetic excuse for a human but I will certainly be the last.

They do say bad habits will be the death of you and this is very true in his case- murdered by a 15yr old girl, he shouldn't have been addicted to abusing minors.

As long as I can remember there had always been whispers in the girl's toilets about the fear of detention with him, these hushed discussions were commonplace, some girls had turned to adults to express their concerns or purge what he'd did to them but it always fell on deaf ears.

It is Friday so here he will stay all weekend until he's discovered early Monday morning; slumped dead in his chair, trousers around his ankles with his lifeless shrivelled (very underwhelming) penis, on display for all to see.