Page 132 - The Houseguest
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cried. Was she calling my bluff? Did she know this gun wasn’t loaded? Was she trying to end our journey quickly to avoid the torment that awaited her?
She couldn’t win this game and take from me again what was rightfully mine. As if the gun were loaded anyway, I vowed to never relinquish my Ravenge plan by killing her quickly. I gained composure and softly whispered in her ear: “I’m not ready yet, Rachel. You have a few things to do for me, first.” I didn’t add that April 25th, the ten-year anniversary of the day my loved ones died, would be the same date she will die too. I gagged her with a sock and wrapped it with tape tightly around her head, before I chained her free hand again.
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life
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