Page 197 - The Houseguest

derive the most satisfaction. Shrugging my shoulders, I conceded that scenario would just have to suffice.
At this point, my mind drifted to the various jail cells where I’d visited clients. None of them particularly appealed to me and the thought of sharing a toilet was simply unacceptable. I just couldn’t imagine myself in prison. Of course, there was always the “death by cop” option, which would require no effort at all with the trigger-happy studs I viewed peering through the window from my stance behind the wall.
I began to pace, knowing not to show myself in front of the window, for I was certain they had a sniper in place by now. If I did decide to force law enforcement to execute me, it would be at a time of my choosing.
To get the most satisfaction from the finale of my Ravenge plan, I struck up a conversation with my nemesis. Maybe some desperate pleas from her would be like icing on the cake. “How are you feeling, now, Ms. Spence?” I asked, my words slathered with sarcasm.
“How do you think I feel, you crazy son of a bitch?” Her answer took me completely by surprise. Defiance? At this stage of the game? This could prove relatively interesting, as I had expected her to be completely compliant in order to save her unborn. I continued to walk back and forth in front of her brandishing the now loaded pistol. I knew we had a little bit of time because the authorities outside were aware I had a “hostage.” I felt an immense gratification knowing the one fact they didn’t...that she wasn’t making it out of here alive, and their efforts, though valiant, were completely moot.
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life