Monster (BWWM) complete

Her

It was because of that boy her son was sent to jail. It was because of that boy her son was shanked in prison and left to bleed out on some foul, filthy gritted shower stall tile.. It was because of that wet behind the ears sissy, the woman no longer had a son. Her son, who had suffered so much in that Mexican prison he was sent to. Her son who was a great and wonderful person. He was starved, beaten, raped, and she couldn't even do anything about it, with all her money, she was helpless to save her one and only child.

Why was this 'teenager' able to arrest her son? Accuse her son of selling narcotics at his high school and be believed? Why was the American Government allowing 'children' to hand out justice and play detective? The very thought made her blood boil and bubble beneath her flesh. Thinking about that child who got the better of her son, she never hated anyone as much as she hated that good for nothing boy.

But vengeance was on her mind and it would be hers. She would show the Americans why you shouldn't allow children to play with what's dangerous. She would show this boy that his actions have consequences, serious ones.

He would suffer, like her beloved son had – only worse. He wanted to be a hero? She would make him into a villain.

She would get her revenge.

(B)(B)

It was simple, it was easy to kidnap that boy. He was a strong-willed one and had a strong urge to render justice. He liked to be a hero. He volunteered at the local police station and stayed after school late as a member of his school's 'Safety Patrol'. He was such a little wanna-be cop.

So all it truly took was a ploy to draw such an helpful boy in. The woman named her plan A 'The Lost Child and The Helpful Boy. Oh, how her maid's sniveling little flesh ball of filth played her role. It was superb, so she heard.

He had such a strong-will and just-heart, a shame the woman will crush it. Her hands twitched, long fingers, with nails painted a deep crimson jerked at the thought of breaking such a useless boy. His screams will feed her soul and his pleas for forgiveness will give her air she could once again breathe after so long.

She would live again.

She waited at one of her homes. One of her smaller ones, stationed in northern California mountains. It was a ranch which sat 100 acres, it's one of her most favorite homes. It's far from the closest neighbor and she had spent months making it into perfection for her new 'tool's' arrival.

She leaned against the wooden post of her porch and watched the narrow road which leads to the home with lazy brown eyes. The woman resisted the urge to glance at her watch. Why was that idiot taking so long?

A few seconds wiggled by before the top of a black van peeked out from the hill, winding its way along the old road which lead up to her property and villa. Her body straightened as she watched the van move towards her home. Her hands began to shake with excitement, a smile tugged at her very thin, dark maroon painted lips.

As the vehicle stopped, she quickly moved down the wooden stairs, hiking up her hem and dusting imaginary dust from the light yellow sun-dress. Her nephew, Marcus, stepped out of the van's driver side, his face a crimson red, his balding head slick with sweat.

He looked nervous as he fiddled with his cowboy hat in his hands. His white button-up stuck like a glue to his body, being held on by sweat. His green jeans were filthy and caked with mud.

A growl tumbled from the woman's lips, he had obviously had messed up. She would have none of that. "What have you done?" The woman hissed stopping a few feet from the van. "You got him... you better have gotten him."