Angelic Sins (Part 1)

Chapter 3: Target

HEADLINE: Pastor Craven of Newberry Lane has been released on bail, after being charged with the sexual assault of a teenage victim, 13-year-old Lora Flemming.

I cut out his picture and add it to the wall with a red nail. Pastor Craven. It's a good thing I don't go to church. Opening my laptop, I pull up my tracking software. I have so many programs that I've hacked from the FBI that I could be charged with treason five times over.

Hmm...A meeting with your lawyer at 6:00 PM this evening in Fellow's Hall? Well, I sure don't want to cause a scene. Let's change that.

I plug in a non-traceable port to my phone. 843-312-8865. I begin to text:

Pastor Craven, Good Evening. Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to make our meeting at Fellow's Hall. Instead can we meet now behind Warehouse 13? It's a necessary precaution just in case the cops are snooping around. Please let me know ASAP.

Send.

Within thirty seconds I get a response.

No problem. On my way there now.

I grab my car keys and my long jacket with many pockets. Whistling a random tune, I walk out the door after resetting my extra security devices. A gal' has got to be safe, right?

Upon my arrival to the warehouse I see Craven standing in a dirty button-down shirt, ripped jeans, and gym shoes that are clearly too small. He is fat, sloppy, and unattractive in every way imaginable. I like to think of his face as having the appearance of a badger with rabies. I get out the car, walking towards him. A look of confusion sweeps over his face.

"Pastor Craven, it's such an honor to meet you," I say offering a handshake.

He smiles but brushes off my greeting, "Where is my lawyer?"

I smile right back

"Well, your lawyer didn't send that text. I did. A little trick I like to use... in fact, I have many tricks. One of my tricks happens to be having a crap-ton of money, which is why you stand before me now. You really didn't think all ten of your church members were able to raise $30,000 for your bond did you? It was all me."

His face brightens, and he hugs me.

"Oh, thank you sister! You will be repaid. Is there any way I can show you my appreciation?"

I bite my lip, smiling seductively.

"There sure is a way you can show me your appreciation."

His eyebrows raise, clearly intrigued by my "idea," and then I see it. A belt buckle. Not just an ordinary belt buckle. Rhinestoned. Possibly even real diamonds. Flashy...so noticeable. I have never been more disgusted.

"You want them to watch?" I ask.

"Who?" he responds.

"Your belt buckle. When you take it off. You like for your victims to watch it the entire time. Why else would someone have such a large and flattering belt piece, while the remainder of their outfit is from the local dumpster?"

"Don't be harsh. This belt is coming off right now" he says getting even more turned on by my sassiness.

He begins to undo it. He looks down for what has to be no more than five seconds to undo the final latch. By that point, I am airborne. Light on my feet and brisk as a shadow, my elbow hits his left temple like a bullet, bringing him to his knees. He stares at me in shock and pain.

"Did you rape Lora?" I ask with a blank expression.

He looks at me and shakes his head.

"Wrong answer."

I deliver one punch, directly in his front tooth, splitting it from the gums and bending it backward. He lets out a painful groan.

"Did you rape Lora?"

Tears begin to form in his eyes as he nods, holding his bloody mouth.

"Good boy. Lora...is thirteen years old, you know? She was a virgin. You took away something so special...for your own selfish needs."

This is the part where the pleas begin. As I stated before, I'm not a person of mercy, nor am I actually his lawyer.

"You know what...Lora didn't have the pleasure of choosing who she had sex with for her first time, but I'll be lenient with you. Choose a pocket. Any pocket on my jacket. Point one out."

His eyes dart frantically and his hand shakes as he points to the lower right pocket.

"LETS SEE WHAT YOU HAVE CHOOSEN!" I say in a game-show-host voice.

I remove the contents of the pocket, containing a single needle. He stares at it, following its sharp point. I begin to whistle as I tie his hands and legs up with barbed wire to the warehouse trash bin, occasionally letting my knee meet his jaw to help remove more teeth.

"I like this choice. It's one of my favorites."

His jaw is most likely broken, and with the majority of his teeth gone, his eyes run endlessly. I disconnect the belt buckle from his jeans, and remove his garments and underwear, exposing his genitals. I take the needle, injecting the liquid into his penis, as he worms and hollers.

"Calm down, calm down, now. You only need to die once. Don't want to be bleeding out of multiple places now do we?"

I point to his wrist, being torn open by the barbed wire as he struggles to free himself. I walk away, uninterested in the remainder of the show. What's to see? Acid does what acid does. Doesn't matter what part of the body you put it on, or inject it in. Several minutes later? Silence. Death is music to my ears.