Round1✔
Round2✔
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This is based on/inspired by a true story.
On a very beautiful and warm day, Tara found herself hitting rock bottom. Five monsters shattered her life, stole her dreams, and tainted her inside out.
Alone in her despai...
Once the rush of vengeance faded, Tara found herself grappling with an overwhelming, unanticipated sense of remorse.
She had taken a life.
Her body convulsed painfully as she leaned over the toilet in her apartment, trembling violently. Every retch seemed to tear at her insides, her stomach heaving in a futile attempt to expel the turmoil within. Her sides ached, and every breath felt like a struggle.
Each wave of nausea seemed to worsen, aggravated by the haunting images of Ethan's bloodied form.
The weight of her actions pressed down on her, and Tara sank to the floor, struggling to steady herself. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the bitter taste of regret mingle with the bile.
She killed someone, and no one knew about it.
As she turned to lean against the wall, her gaze fell on the pile of clothes discarded by the door, a silent reminder of what happened to her. They glared at her, accusing her of weakness and betrayal, daring her to keep wallowing in useless guilt.
How could you even think that? How could you feel bad about what you've done after what you've been through?
Defiance flickered within her, slowly growing into a bigger flame. She did nothing wrong. She had simply rid the world of one monster among many.
A surge of satisfaction coursed through her, fueled by the ugly memories of her own vulnerability and the helplessness she had felt. Her actions, though horrific, had given her a sense of power, a twisted form of justice.
A fire of anger and determination roared behind her hardened gaze.
"One down," she rasped, her throat raw from retching. "Four more to go." Her shoulder shook with silent laughter. "Oh," she sighed, feeling silly for her unseemly meltdown. "Now, who do we have next?"
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Tara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her joints aching from the prolonged sitting in the stiff chair. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on the muscular guy seated in the outdoor area of the café opposite hers. He leaned with his elbow on the armrest, the wind ruffling his sunlight strands.
Every day at four in the evening, Alex Everett frequented this shop, claiming a corner table where he sat alone for two hours. Sipping his doppio and engrossed in his phone, he seemed impervious to the hustle and bustle around him.
Having committed his every move to memory from stalking him for three consecutive days, she could easily foresee what he was going to do next. She smirked when her prediction came true as he lit another cigarette and signaled the waitress for a refill. He usually had two cups before ordering a latte to go.
She grimaced at the unhealthy amount he was consuming. However, as an avid smoker, it most definitely didn't bother him. She still vividly remembered the awful smell and disgusting taste of his mouth as he forced himself on her.
