Tamara （Tammy） Wilson
T hey burnt my home down.
Staring at the remnants of my home as Richard talks with a police officer– my anger simmers to a boiling point.
How dare they take my home away? This is my home. My town. Mine.
A hand lands on my back and I spin around with a snarl, but immediately calm when I find it’s just my husband. “I’m so sorry, Tam.” He murmurs softly to me.
“This was our home.” I rasp, refusing to even think about crying. They don’t get my tears. Those low life pieces of shit get nothing except my fury. “They will regret this.”
“They will.” Richard tips his head in agreement. “We have a plan though and need to stick to it.”
Yanking away from him, I point back at our home that is now mostly ashes, “This says fuck the plan. I want them to pay now. Who knows what else they are thinking about doing. We need to act now.”
“Tam–” He starts, taking a step forward.
“Do you not care, Rich?” My heels clink against the pavement as I step towards him again, placing my manicured hand on his chest. “The home we raised our children in. The home we made love in. Do you not want revenge for that? Do you not want them to pay for taking that away from us? This hurts, Richard. They hurt me, us, please don’t let them think they won by waiting any longer.” I force tears to form in the corner of my eyes and watch as my husband caves the second a tear rolls down my cheek.
“Of course I do. We can move things up. I’ll make this right for you baby. They will pay now.” He caresses my cheek and I smile softly at him.
Soon, so very soon, they will pay. The Sons of Silence will be nothing but a speck under my heel when I am done with them.