Since becoming a fan of the show ‘Scandal’, I have been almost unhealthily fascinated with having a Black female lead in my stories even more so than prior to my knowledge of the talents of the amazing Shonda Rhimes. This, combined with my disgust at the crimes against women that has been a feature of international news and those that have been suffered through silently has culminated in this. It’s not my usual writing style or subject matter but who am I to argue with Creativity 🙂
The room number emblazoned itself in her mind before ‘Tony’ flung himself at the door. He fiddled at the keyhole with a crudely designed copper key procured not a minute ago by the young boy at the cramped front desk. He pushed it open after a minute and awkwardly shuffled through the door. ‘C’mere bitch!’ he slurred to the dark skinned woman with the fantastic tits he’d picked up at The Lounge. He usually went for blue-eyed blondes but this little slut could do things to a pole that he’d never seen before and he had seen a lot in his day-too damn much he sometimes admitted to himself the few occasions he was stone cold sober. He was in the process of hurriedly removing his nerdy XXL Hawaiian print shirt-the type he loved wearing because it pissed off his Stepford wife, when he heard a ‘click’. That familiar sound stopped him in his tracks and he went cold all over. The bulge at the front of his pants reduced significantly while the blood drained from his acne scarred face as well. He turned towards the fantastic prozzie with the amazing legs from ‘The Lounge’ and saw a gun aimed at his skull. He recognized the gun as his own and a frantic search around his waist confirmed it. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ he thought but he was too afraid to speak the words as his gaze shifted from the barrel to the eyes of the woman who held it. Eyes colder and more calculating than the grey steel metal met his and held them. He was not used to such cruelty in the eyes of a woman. Women, young girls, even men met him with looks of fear, meekness and hate if they met his eyes at all, never…’ He didn’t get the luxury of finishing his thought as a searing hot pain pierced through his pelvic region. He collapsed to the ground and the woman walked over to him and kicked him in his side. ‘Sonnuffabitch’ he breathed heavily as he writhed around the floor in pain. Red blood flowed through the spaces between his fingers as he clutched at his now non-existent penis.
The woman eyed the blood with a smile. ‘So you are human after all Mr, Kaiser Delfuentes.’ She knew his real name…which meant…
‘I know who or rather what you are’ she confirmed, disgust now contorting her beautiful face. He continued writhing and murmurs of a pathetic nature escaped his lips. The beautiful black woman strode across the room to a scratched up chair which matched the scruffy setting of the small motel room. She sat down and not the battered chair or even her loud make-up and scantily clad body removed from the aura of power that surrounded her. A leather duffel bag and a black brief case sat by the chair.
Delfuentes had stopped writhing but his mumbling continued. ‘Shut up,’ she calmly instructed him. He did.
‘First I’m going to read you your list of crimes which as you well know is quite long.’ She reached over to the briefcase. ‘Then, I’m going to make you scream but not in a good way,’ she smirked at that. ‘And finally I’m going to kill you.’
Delfuentes might have been dead for his lack of movement but his heavy breathing confirmed his status as one of the living.
‘Did you hear me?’ the woman asked almost as if she was speaking to a child. A barely imperceptible shift of his head confirmed he had.
‘Good. Let’s start from the beginning shall we? 30 years ago, you were accused of raping Catalina Delfuentes, your sister….’
Three hours later a ghastly chorus of screams echoed from a dingy motel on the outskirts of the city. Those within the building were already equipped with their earplugs and paid it no mind.