Hannah Avenged

Adrenaline pumped through Jason's veins. Rage filled his heart, producing the vilest animal known to man; man itself. His daughter lay in a hospital bed. The nurse had told him she was in critical condition and that the bullet had hit the brachial artery. His fists were clenched tightly on the rails that lined the bed.

Revenge. A bittersweet thing. Consequences of such a thing are deadly. But the rewards are miniscule. But ever so satisfying. He leaned over her nearly dead body and kissed her forehead, whispering, “I'll get him for what he's done to you, Hannah... I promise...” Tears welled up in his eyes. He was literally blinded by fury. With a sharp twist, he turned and stormed out of the hospital. The doctors had told him there was nothing to save her. She'd lost too much blood and the ambulance had shown up too late. Hannah would either have brain damage or just die. Jason and his daughter had spoken of this sort of thing a couple years ago when his wife had died. Jason was to give the order to pull the plug and not make Hannah live the life of a carrot and she was to do the same.

Even with these orders, Jason paused at the nurses desk. Emotions that he never should have felt ran through him. “I need to speak to a doctor...”

“Of course, Mr. Nielson” replied the large nurse. Her nose scrunched under her glasses as she read his visitor's sticker. She paged the doctor and they waited.

The doctor showed up almost immediately and went to shake Jason's hand. Jason only stared down at it and spoke shakily, “Pull the plug on Hannah. Give me the form.”

The piece of paper slid across the counter and Jason's hand scribbled a signature and date. Then he slid it back to the aged man in the white coat. Jason's feet propelled him down the hall, bumping him into several people. He never stopped and soon he was at his car. He climbed inside and slammed his hands on the steering wheel, crying. Crying for the loss of his teenage daughter. Crying for the sake of crying. Crying so that when the time came he would be calm enough to steady his aim and pull the trigger. The repercussions wouldn't matter. He would deal with them when the time came. How could he know that the seemingly nice man he had met just months ago would do this.

Gregory and Jason had met at the local hardware store. They were both looking for aluminum sheds. Gregory obviously wanted one for a very different reason. Jason had decided this would be the year he finally packed up his dead wife's things and put them in a shed in the backyard. Gregory claimed he wanted to have a place for his tools. They had joked around, Gregory laughed and asked where else he would keep his dead bodies and Jason chuckled and said he just threw his into the nearby river. Jason invited Greg out for a beer and they continued to hang out every weekend after. Then came yesterday. The day Jason discovered it was no laughing matter.

The moment Gregory met Hannah, he knew he wanted to add her to his collection. Her skirt went down to just the middle of her thighs and her shirt hugged her body tightly. He smiled, his warm brown eyes latching onto her as his hand caressed hers in a gentle handshake.

“You've got one beautiful daughter, Jason” Gregory complimented.

“Yeah, she takes after her mom” Jason smirked toward Hannah.

“Oh, Dad, shut up” she spoke bashfully and walked upstairs to her room. A detail Gregory noted as he asked her to show him the restroom. She obliged him and pointed at it, the door across from her room. That was two weeks ago.

Yesterday, Jason had brought Greg over to help fix Hannah's car. Greg claimed to be a decent mechanic. So he offered to fix the oil leak and rotated the tires. Shortly after they arrived, he said he needed to use the bathroom.

“Those beers are just runnin' through me, mind if I go take a piss?” Greg asked, already heading toward the front door.

“Make it quick, I wanna get this done before it gets too late. The earlier we get it done the more we can drink, right?” Jason jested.

“Right right!” confirmed Greg as he moved beyond the doorway inside.

As soon as the door closed, Greg ran stealthily up the stairs and turned left, to Hannah's room, not right, to the bathroom. He flung the door wide and she screamed at the sight of the .38 caliber snub-nosed revolver pointing at her. Jason's feet pushed him harder than they ever had before. The front door opened wide at his touch and he bounded up the stairs three at a time. His left foot landed atop the staircase and his ears rang from the gunshot that echoed about the house. He turned into her room just in time to see Greg attempting to drag Hannah's limp body out of her window. Jason's hand gripped his pocketknife and he lunged at Gregory's hand, slicing it deep and forcing it to release the girl. Jason pulled his daughter into his lap, cradling her as his trembling hands dialed 911.

Now his car sped through the streets, heading for Greg's house. He knew he wouldn't be there but hoped there would be clues as to where he went. He passed a creek and a memory flashed in his mind, causing him to change his route. He knew where Greg would go. He owned a cabin by a lake fifty miles from town. He struggled to keep his body from shaking. All he could think of was what Greg planned to do to his daughter. Luckily, Hannah was strong. She screamed and moved in time to avoid being shot in the head. Sadly, not quick enough. Not quick enough to avoid Death. Not quick enough. The thought ran through his mind over and over. He was nearly there. He reached the hard, packed dirt road that led to the confine where he would find Hannah's murderer. He parked his car midway there. He slid his hand over the center console, resting his finger on the latch to open it. He pulled and it clicked. Reaching in, his hands found his gun. So cold. He retrieved it and started down the road. He observed the white car parked in front as he came to the porch.

Jason's booted foot smashed on the cabin door and it flew open. He readied his gun and stepped in. Gregory's gun waited, looking at the entry way, waiting for Jason. The first shot smashed behind Jason. The .38 caliber revolver fired a second time. Jason hid around the corner, counting in his head. Hoping there would be five shots fired while he still had cover. They weren't fired. Just the two and then there was a dreadful silence. He took his chance to speak now.

“Greg, why? Why did you kill her?” Jason's voice shook and faltered.

The smile was detectible in Greg's voice. “A pretty little thing like Hannah? Oh, the things I would have done to her...”

“You sick son of a bitch!” the shout was louder than Jason had thought it would be; a gunshot in itself.

“Oh, shut the fuck up already. Any plans for the body? I'd still like a go at it, ha ha.” Gregory's laugh was coated with a demented sort of desire.

Jason rounded the corner angrily and fired two rounds into Greg's chest. Greg's laugh fell short and he gasped and wheezed. Jason stalked his dying prey, standing over the soft recliner as Greg's body went into shock, convulsing. Jason's gun hand raised and fired one last shot into the man's forehead.

Finally. It's over. He walked to the leather couch across the room and collapsed into it. He heard sirens in the distance. They're getting closer. They won't understand Greg deserved this. If I don't get the death penalty, I'll get life in prison. He stared down at the 9mm handgun in his lap. It was warm now. No longer was it the cold piece of steel it had once been. No longer a hostile weapon used to kill. A vision of him in handcuffs came to mind. His wife would disapprove of what he had just done. Sadness, not regret, flushed him of strength. He would live only physically. His emotions died with Hannah. His mental capacity died with the hatred of Greg. He knew life was now pointless. The gun was warm now. Inviting, even. He raised it, pointing it to his temple. The sirens were now coming from just outside. Slow motion. A click. An explosion. A splatter of blood on the wall. Death claimed one more.