Chapter Two
Brynne
I stare at the flowers and congratulatory card in my hand. I didn’t think the office would care much that I graduated with my PhD last week. The thought of people caring about my success gives me this weird feeling in my chest. I’ve been alone for most of my life, even when I wasn’t physically alone, I felt alone. I never had one constant in my life and I don’t think I would know what to do if I did. Just like I don’t know how to react to this.
I’m a therapist and still don’t know how to handle my feelings. How can you be a good therapist when you’re just as fucked up as your patients? I use this occupation for far more than helping my patients sort through their feelings. Originally I wanted to become a therapist to help myself, but shortly realized that there was no helping me. Now I just seek revenge and I’m pretty damn good at getting that.
“So do we have to start calling you Dr. Brynne Thornton now?” Dr. Adam Epson asks from my doorway. I hold up the card and nod toward him. “We all got them for you. Getting your PhD is a big deal,” he smiles. If I were any normal woman, he would be gorgeous, like settle down and make a family with gorgeous. Except I’m not a normal woman. I don’t think I will ever find someone who could wrap their little brain around what I do. I don’t know if I could juggle my plans on top of a relationship as well.
“We should go out to dinner to celebrate,” Adam offers.
“I’m sorry, I’m busy.”
“I didn’t name a date yet,” he smirks. He’s got me there. I am busy though. I have a date with a man who is going to die. A man that I’m going to kill.
“What day?”
“How about tomorrow?” he asks.
I pretend to ponder the idea. “I’m sorry, my friends
have planned to celebrate with me then.” Complete lie. Adam seems to take the lie. I’ve made up so many lies to seem like a normal person that I’ve had to take up writing them down and studying them. Who my friends are. Where they’re from. Why no one can meet them? How my made-up parents died because I don’t want them to know my past life.
“How about I give you my number and you call me when you're free?” he offers.
I smile and hand him a pen and the card. He flips it
over and writes his number. I pretend to be smitten, but it's all fake. Men are all the same. They pretend to be what you want and slowly start to show their true colors throughout your relationship. I avoid relationships altogether. I know it's not healthy to be alone, but that’s how I prefer it. I’m safe with myself. The only other person who truly knows who I am is Clara.
Adam leaves and I instantly throw the card in the
garbage can under my desk. Sorry Adam. While finishing my granola bar I pull up my schedule for the day. My first meeting isn’t until nine so I have a few minutes to spare. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to watch my camera at my house. The delivery driver walks up to my door and places my package next to it.
If anyone knew who I was then the contents wouldn’t surprise them. Thankfully my hobby of painting can be easily stretched when it comes to supplies. I needed more supplies and toys for my date with Jordan later tonight. I mix that with brushes and canvas, and it’s the perfect art project. I do use the art supplies, but that’s the only thing in the package being used legally.
I didn’t mean to turn out the way I did, but your past has a way of defining your future. I chose to take my past and do something good with it. Looking in from the outside, it seems anything but good, but these people don’t deserve their lives. In my opinion, they should all be erased from this earth.
???
After stepping out of my shower, I wrap a towel around my naked body. I run my hand across the fogged mirror and see how tired I look. This won’t work, I have to play the part perfectly. Tonight will prove that I’m right about Jordan. I pull on my sundress and grab my makeup bag. I only have twenty minutes before he is going to be here.
We’re supposed to go out for dinner, but I know for a fact we won’t be leaving my house. I’ve planned the whole night out, but the only problem is the fact that Jordan insisted on driving his own car. Disposing of that afterward will be tricky when it comes to the traffic cameras. I may need Clara’s help on this one .
I met Clara when I was fifteen and we both shared similar experiences in the foster system. We didn’t need to explain our plans to each other, we could both tell what we wanted. The people who had hurt us deserved to die and we wanted to be the ones to kill them. We got smarter with each killing and were able to pin it on the other foster parent or a relative most of the time. The children were never the first suspect and we used that to our advantage.
We don’t meet up as much as we used to. I don’t want people to know that we’re still close. I have a burner phone specifically to talk to her. Come to think of it, I probably have more phones than someone who cheats on their partner.
There’s a ping on my phone after I finish blow-drying my hair. My cameras pick up his car as soon as he turns into my long driveway. When I bought a house, a long driveway away from the street and neighbors was a must. After I bought it I renovated the house on my own. I needed all of the amenities here so I wouldn’t have to travel to do this work. Thankfully I lucked out and this house was part of the underground railroad, and the tunnels go pretty far. I’ve added to them and now have my own little maze for these mice to try to run away in.
I watch my camera from my phone and Jordan steps out of the car. He has flowers in one hand and slides his keys into his pocket after locking his fancy car. I watch his movements and study him. Then he is at my door and my doorbell chimes. Clara is very tech-savvy and helped me with all of my security systems. I needed to be prepared for anything and I have every square footage of this place under surveillance.
Jordan eyes me up and down when I open my door. I chose this dress because it makes me look younger than I am. I’m in my thirties, but I’ve always looked younger. If I want to prove my theory, then I need him to view me as younger. He has admitted in sessions that he fantasizes about younger girls. We didn’t get so far as to admit that he had acted on his desires before. Clara pulled his records from when he was younger. No matter how much someone's record is sealed, there is still a record. Unless it's completely erased like mine.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to erase my past like I did, but it was necessary. I wasn’t Sarah anymore, I needed to become someone else to continue my plans.
“You look ravishing,” Jordan says. I give him a fake
smile and force myself to blush as I open the door to let him in. He steps inside and I close the door behind him. If he only knew that he just stepped into his death chamber.
“Care for some wine?” I ask.
“I figured we would wait for dinner.”
I wave my hand in dismissal. “We can’t have some fun before dinner?” I say seductively. My shoulder dips and my spaghetti strap falls down my shoulder. “Oh,” I giggle.
“Let me,” Jordan offers. He sets the flowers on the
table and slides his index finger under the strap. He fixes it and his eyes roll back when he inhales my scent. I fucking hate cotton candy, but this perfume does it every time. Cotton candy is so adolescent and innocent. I need them to look at me that way to show me their true desires.
“So, what do you say?” I coax. Jordan opens his eyes and looks at me. I bat my lashes and give him doe eyes. He falls for it like every man does.
“Sure, why not,” he shrugs.
“Make yourself comfortable and I’ll grab our drinks. ”
Jordan turns for my living room and I head to the kitchen. I grab the bowl of berries that I picked when I got
home. Before I got into the shower I smashed them into a jelly- like consistency. Wine hides the deadly nightshade beautifully. It gives me the upper hand when asking them questions. It’s been a trial and error with the amount to put in each drink, but I’ve finally perfected it.
If you give someone too much then they will die, but you can slowly give them more within a drink. The berries are the perfect part of the plant to add. Jordan may get a bit sick, but he will still be lucid.
“Here you go,” I hand him his glass. He smiles and clinks his glass to mine.
“To a fun night,” he toasts.
You have no idea. “To a fun night,” I tilt my head and watch him drink the wine. Now the fun begins.