Hey folks-To all of the people who wrote to me about killing off piety and Mason in the conclusion of Burning the witches, I have to say that I'm sorry you're unhappy about it. I'm not however sorry that I did it. To put this plainly Mason and Piety were written and their entire storyline was created in an earlier story with the full intent tht they would die in Burning the witches. To me the entire Sisters of fate universe is Jason, Prudence, Penance and Patience. I couldn't kill off one of them, so I created other charaters that I could. Again, I'm sorry to the people who are sad that they're gone, but it wasn't done capriciously. Moving on-his week's story is back to the normal cheating wives story. I want to thank SirCharles5150 for going above the call of duty and editing this while he has the flu. Actually I want to thank all of the vounteer editors out there period. These guys and ladies do a truly thankless job and usually when they're done with it, their only reward is yet another story to edit. Here we go-SS06
This isn't a nice story. I really wish that it was, but sometimes real life just sucks. The only thing we can do when life throws shit at us I'd try to avoid as much of the shit as possible.
My name is Darren Montgomery Carlisle. For most of my life I've been called "Ren." My older brother's name is Darryl, so he was "Dare."
I'm thirty five years old and facing my greatest fear. My greatest fear isn't jumping off of a building or staring down the barrel of a gun. My greatest fear right now is the beautiful woman who just told me that she loves me.
I'm sure that everyone reading this is wondering exactly what is wrong with me. So let me tell you my story and you decide whether or not my fear is justified.
I'm not going to bore you with the details of my early life and how I met my wife. Let's just suffice it to say that by last year we'd been married for fourteen years and were still very much in love. My business had finally taken off and we were financially stable enough that we were looking into moving out of our condo and into a very large house. Our apartment was relatively expensive and had a beautiful view of the river, but we were also thinking that it was time to start a family. Anyway our decision to make babies and move out to the country isn't critical here, but the apartment is.
It was a Tuesday afternoon in June although I don't remember the exact date, when it happened. I had just left work. Actually I'd driven home early because my wife Kerrie had called to offer me some afternoon delight. So hell yeah, I dropped everything and went home.
I think that all of us have seen those videos and articles on how to avoid being mugged. You're supposed to look around you and be aware of your surroundings. You're supposed to look at the people you meet and make eye contact so they know that you've seen them and are aware of them.
I know all of that shit, but I seriously never thought it would happen to me. I mean seriously, I live in a luxury, high rise condo. We have a fucking doorman and a security squad twenty four hours a fucking day, eight days a fucking week. I never expected it.
When I got on the elevator a guy was already on it. He had several large boxes in his arms so I couldn't really see his face. I did notice the tattoo on his arm though because I was seriously thinking about getting one.
"Wow, that's a lot of boxes. Better you than me," I said trying to make small talk.
"Yeah, but they're not really heavy," he said. I remembered his voice afterwards because he had that Bostonian accent which I find hilarious. The way they pronounce "R's" always makes me think of Elmer Fudd.
When I got off of the elevator, he did too. I guess I thought that he was visiting someone on my floor or possibly moving in. That sounds good. But the actual truth was that I didn't give him a thought. My mind was on the treasure between my wife's legs.
I pulled my keys out and unlocked my door. That was the exact moment that he clubbed me over the head and pushed me into the apartment.
I guess I was dizzy after being hit over the head. He pulled out two pairs of handcuffs and cuffed my hands around one of the support beams in the apartment.
He started yelling at me and asking me where the safe was. My head was still spinning and I was half expecting Bugs Bunny to come and rescue me. In every God damned Looney Toons cartoon I've ever seen Bugs always came in to handle Elmer Fudd.
I think I half blacked out for a while and when I awoke I heard the springs in my bedroom squeaking. It was then that I thought about Kerrie. I started trying to pull my hands out of the cuffs so I could help her. I screamed loudly. He must've been afraid of my yells drawing a neighbor or the security team. So he ran out of my bedroom while pulling his pants on. He had his shirt in one hand along with his shoes. He didn't even look at me he just ripped the door open and ran out into the hall.
I yelled for Kerrie. There was no response to my yell. That was when I began to worry. I yelled again and again until finally she staggered into the living room.
She was crying and she looked like hell. Her clothes were torn. Her makeup was smeared all over her face.
"Kerrie, call the police," I yelled.
"Ren, we can't," she whined. "I don't want anyone to know what he..."
"Kerrie, you didn't do anything wrong, Honey," I told her. "If it takes me the rest of my God damned life I'll find that guy and make sure he pays for what he did. He's gonna..."
That was all I got out. I noticed that Kerrie's eyes got huge. "Ren, why are you bleeding? What did he... ?"
I have no idea how much time passed. When I woke again, I was in the hospital and Kerrie was next to me holding my hand and crying.
"Ren, are you alright?" she asked when saw my eyes open.
"What did the police say?" I asked.
"I didn't call them," she said.
"Why the hell not?" I screamed loudly. The screaming set my head off and waves of pain shot through me. All kinds of alarms on the machines that were monitoring me went off and a fat old nurse waddled into the room.
"My husband was on the floor bleeding from his head," she screamed back. "So excuse me but if I have to make a choice between getting an ambulance to save the life of the man I love and calling a cop who probably won't catch the guy anyway, I chose you Ren."
"Ma'am, he has a concussion and possibly swelling on the brain. If you excite him, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We need to keep him calm until we determine the extent of the injuries," said the nurse.
Kerrie didn't say anything. She just nodded and glared at the woman.
"Can I get you anything sir?" Asked the nurse as she listened to my breathing and checked the bandage on my head.
"Could you call the police for me or get me my phone so I can?" I asked.
"I can do better than that Mr. Carlisle," she smiled. "Betty is downstairs in the emergency room. She's a detective. She's down there taking a statement from a drunk driver they brought in. He ram through a stop sign and T-boned a car with two old ladies in it. He claims his brakes failed. But his blood alcohol levels were three times the legal limit. I'll send her right up."
"Thanks," I said.
As soon as the nurse left the room, Kerrie started in on me.
"Ren we don't need the embarrassment of reporting this," she said. "I want that bastard caught for what he did to you as much as you do. But think about your business and our neighbors and our family. Do you really need people wondering if you're the right person to hire? Do we really need our parents and friends talking about us behind our backs? Let's just let this go. Sooner or later everyone who lives in a city gets hit. It was just our turn. It won't happen again. At least we have each other and..."
"Please forgive me, but that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." The woman who said it walked into the room then. She was nothing like the typical detective. She was a couple of years older than us. I pegged her at just under forty. And like everything that Goldilocks chose, she was just right. No she wasn't slim and svelte like Kerrie. She also didn't have one of those smart fashionable haircuts that all of the urban upwardly mobile women wore these days.
Her hair was curly and a rich chestnut brown that draped down her back like a curtain. She was a little on the short side. And while she wasn't as thin as Kerrie, she was nowhere near fat. She was very curvy though. She had a big butt and some honest to goodness boobs. I could them jiggle with every step she took. Her blue eyes glowed with intelligence and intensity. She wore a navy blue suit jacket over a white shirt and jeans. I was sure that the jacket was worn just as camouflage.
Without that jacket, every man she ran into would be trying to catch glimpses of her boobs and her ass.
"If everyone thought like you do, it would be open season for the criminals. They'd know that no matter what they did they'd get away with it because no one would ever report them," she continued. Kerrie looked at the floor.
"Don't you care about your husband?" asked the detective.
"I love him," said Kerrie. "That's why I got him to the hospital."
"Then why do you want to let the person that did this to him get away with it?" asked the detective. She pulled out a notebook and I laughed.
She smiled at me and asked me what was funny.
"I guess I was expecting something more modern," I said. "I'm a note taker too, but I do it on my iPad."
"So what do you do when the power goes out or your iPad's battery runs out?" She asked.
"It's rechargeable," I said.
.... There is more of this story ...