Chapter 1

Monica stared at her reflection and saw what she always saw. The ugliness J always refused to see stared back at her as words from her youth called out so strongly in her mind. Her mother’s words mocked her from the depths of her mind and had to look away from the reflection she despised.

She glanced down her body and saw not the woman she had become, but the child she used to be. J must have been delusional to look at her and see anything other than what she was doing. His words were from an act of kindness, rather than truth. Being her brother and her lover meant he would never tell her the truth, not the way their mother had.

Her eyes were drawn past her trimmed bush to the red rose tattooed on her right thigh and was the only thing to make her smile about her body. What would her mother have said if she knew? Something about only worthless whores gets tattoos. Perhaps something a little stronger, as she considered just how much her mother hated tattoos on women.

Monica smiled at the thought of telling her mother just how much J liked it when she saw it. She was going to be telling her mother many things when she was in her drug addled state. It was an important part of what she had planned. In order to take her life back, she had to have justice.

Her mother hadn’t spoken those words to her in many years, but they were still there. They were always there to remind her she would never amount to anything. She shook a disgusted head as her eyes looked over tits that would never become those of a woman, and hated them more than any other part of her body. When she heard the same comments so many times, there must be some truth to what her mother had said.

Monica firmed herself from withing and returned to her reflection. Where was the beauty J saw? She wished she could see herself through his eyes; not the eyes of her mother. If all went well, she’d be free of the torment soon enough.

She stepped away from the mirror and dressed as she would for work, with casual playing in the back of her mind. There would be no need to return to her reflection, since she wasn’t putting any makeup on. That would come later, since she didn’t want to hear it on the drive back to her house. Monica pressed her light brown hair back and tied it in place before she went through the house one last time.

All of her toys were hidden away, and the straps were in place. She was going to get a lot of use out of everything in time, except for the straps. Monica made sure they were secured to the posts of the guest bed, since she didn’t want to lose time having to readjust everything later.

She went to the kitchen and opened her refrigerator to the powerful scent of piss. There was nothing she could do about the smell emanating from the glass pitcher, but was going to lie and claim she smelled nothing. It looked close enough to lemonade to be convincing, which was the effect she was going for. Her mother already complained about food not smelling and tasting right, and would remind her when she protested.

Monica closed the door and wished her bladder wasn’t empty. There wasn’t much time left and had to forgo one last check through her house. She reminded herself that she could do what she needed, but wished her heart weren’t beating so strongly in her chest. Justice was coming, and her house was in order.

She left the house and checked the trunk of her car as the chill of the morning caused her breath to catch before her face. Her nipples hardened beneath her bra and knew if she had any neighbors, it would be impossible to hide the hardening from anyone. The suitcase was still there and knew there were no panties or bras inside. Everything had been carefully chosen for what would follow later and not a single article had reached the interior unscathed; not a single button remained and nothing would be left to the imagination.

The chill of her fingers caused some aching, but managed to ignore the discomfort as the trunk closed with a firm echo. Breath caught before her as she walked and felt the chill growing throughout her body from more than the air. There was a slight tremble from her nerves she needed to control, but her body wasn’t cooperating at the moment.

Her fingers fumbled with the keys and almost dropped them to the cold ground below, but managed to grip them at the last moment. She lowered herself into the driver’s seat and started the ignition with only minor difficulty. Cold air hit her fingers to add to the chilling effect, which was needed to shock her system into calming down.

She drove down the deserted street as the sun was coming up, and the heat started to press through the vents. Monica made her way down the familiar route and saw the city coming to life as she drove. The hospital was on the other side of town and wished she lived a little closer, but that wouldn’t give her the solitude she enjoyed. Fighting traffic wasn’t something she enjoyed during the best of time, and her knuckles whitened on the wheel as the morning congestion intensified.