Ugly Girl
Copyright© 2026 by Han Jansz. van Meegeren
15. Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned
“Why?” Ciaran wailed. “Why would you do all that for me?”
“Everyone makes mistakes when they are young. Some continue to make them as they get older. And everybody should have a second chance. A clean slate to start again. We are offering you that, but it also means commitment from you. We need you to grow up, and fast. You will be treated as a man, with the responsibilities of a man. We want you to protect us and take care of us. It’s our job to help you grow. Not the spitting image of your father, but towards being a good man. One that draws self-assurance from his own actions, his own money, and his own achievements.”
Sylvia added: “We know we’re asking a lot of you right now. Think before you commit. And now I’m going to push those beds together, and Zuz and I are going to catch up on some sleep. If you stay up, it might be better to leave the room, because we’re going to make it as dark as we can.”
It didn’t take long for us to fall asleep. I have no idea whether he stayed or not while we slept. I don’t care either. We needed it. My phone beeped at 15:30. We took a quick shower. Ciaran looked up from his phone.
“I have booked an appointment for you at the hospital tomorrow morning to have an antibiotic shot, and for Zuzanna to have her eyes checked.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but neither is necessary. My eyes are much better now.”
A stubborn look in Ciaran’s eyes. “I don’t care. You are both going to the hospital tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Lots of questions in the hospital. None of them were we particularly eager to answer. Sylvia got her antibiotic pills. I received eye drops to soothe my still stinging, red eyes. Ciaran accompanied us to the hospital, carrying €120,000 in cash in his backpack. It was heavier than you might think, but he carried it without complaint. I don’t think he still could believe he carried this money.
After our hospital visit, we returned to our hotel room.
“Call your friends and tell them we’re coming to bring you money,” I said.
“I don’t have those guys’ numbers.”
“Then call your bookie and have him make an appointment.”
“I don’t know if he has their number.”
I was getting a little impatient. “Of course he has their number, Ciaran. How else could he have contacted them to lend you that money?”
Ciaran contacted his bookie, requesting a call back after the bookie had reached out to them.
“What is a busy public place in Edinburgh that attracts many people?” Sylvia asked Ciaran.
“The mall. St James’ Quarter.”
“Okay. So, the food court of St James’ Quarter tomorrow 15:00 hours. Tell them you have the money. Don’t agree with other more shady places to make the exchange. Tell them it’s now or never.” Sylvia was good at instructions.
“Let’s go now. It will take us some ten hours to get back to Edinburgh. Staying here would mean a long trip tomorrow; therefore, it’s better to check into a hotel there. I aim to get enough rest so I’m alert for the meeting tomorrow.” I suggested.
“You are not going in there with me. I will go alone. It’s my fault; you have been through enough.” Ciaran said.
“We have something to settle with those boys as well, tough guy.” Sylvia said.
We took turns driving back to Edinburgh. Ciaran had got a call in the car and arranged to meet those guys. He’d surprisingly resisted the pressure they put on him to meet somewhere in an industrial estate parking lot. There was still hope.
“How about we just drive home instead of a hotel?” he asked us mid-trip.
“I’m not even thinking about going back home with the chance of those guys waiting for us there. An anonymous hotel is the best option right now, believe me,” I said. The beautiful scenery wasn’t for us this time; we spent the time while not driving sleeping. A concrete plan of attack was something we had yet to devise. Our close relationship meant Sylvia and I had enough trust to take on this task confidently. Sylvia called Ciaran’s boss and lied to him, saying he was sick and hoped to be back at work tomorrow. Maybe it wasn’t a lie after all, because Ciaran looked ill.
We searched for and found a reasonably priced, mid-range hotel near the shopping centre. Even though we’d rested, the need for lots of sleep remained. After a refreshing shower, we went to bed early. Poor Ciaran, who went to bed early as well. The next day at breakfast, he looked even more pathetic when we announced that since we were close to the mall, we could go shopping. We declined his generous offer to do something else. Keeping a close eye on him and his backpack was our priority all day.
We chose two matching skirts, both floor-length and fashioned from a delightfully cosy material. It was only to be expected that Sylvia wore it much better than I did, a reality I had long since accepted. Our “poor blind girl” performance was once again a great success. Sandor called us with the good news that my house had been sold. The property was snapped up for a staggering €6,000 over my asking price, even before it officially hit the market. The housing market was so fiercely competitive then that buyers escalated their offers simply to get noticed for the scarce homes on the market. I hadn’t expected feeling such a pang of longing for my small house, but with the sale now completed, letting go proved surprisingly tough. That surprised me; I’d never been much for houses; they were just a collection of bricks and mortar and nothing much else. The house contained so many memories and Johan’s presence, which made me feel sad about leaving it. Sylvia sensed my melancholy and put her arm around me. We soon discussed all sorts of practical matters that needed to be arranged remotely before the house could be vacated. Sandor and his wives were a tremendous help. I invited him to stay with us as soon as he could make time.
Then came the time for the rapists to join us at our table. We were sitting in an Indian restaurant in the back, which was quiet at that hour. Too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Even though I was calm on the outside, I was seething inside. I had no idea how I would react if I saw them again. Would all that fear return? Would I be able to stand up to them? There’s only one way to find out. The only way was straight through the fire.
I will not lie; when the three of them walked up, I had chills running down my spine. Sylvia beside me was as imperturbable as ever, looking them straight in the eye, no trace of fear or intimidation. That gave me strength.
“Well, well, well. Couldn’t you do it alone, boy? Did you have to bring your mothers?” The leader of the gang sneered.
“We came to give you a choice. Think well before you say something.” I said to him. “Either we go to the police with a full hospital report and show them the camera footage from the bedroom, or you take your money and get out of our lives. I promise that if I ever see you again, you’ll wish you’d walked the other way.” The unwavering power of my voice surprised me. Most people said I always spoke so softly and gently. I didn’t get angry easily, but once I did, Sylvia always said I was not to be trifled with.
“We have the money with us. 120.000 in small bills.” Ciaran said. I glared at him with dismay. He was there to keep his mouth shut, nothing more.
“120k won’t be enough. With interest, it’s 130.000 now.” The main villain looked triumphant; the debt-increasing profit model was the essence of crime.
“Okay, Let’s go. I hope you find your time in jail as amusing.” I said and stood up. Sylvia followed.
“Easy now. Have I mentioned this one squirted when I came in her ass?” he bragged to Ciaran, pointing at Sylvia. Ciaran looked even paler than before. “We might settle for 120k if there is real money in that bag. Come to our car so we can properly count it.”
“Hell no. If you want to count it, you can count it here. You!” I said in a raised voice to the boy who had been standing outside when the rape took place. “Come with us.” I grabbed the bag from Ciaran’s hands and followed Syl to the accessible toilet. It’s bigger than a regular toilet and attracts less attention. Syl and I had already checked it out before those idiots showed up. Without waiting to see if he’d follow us, we were already on our way. I looked back and saw the leader of the group following us. We’d expected that. There was enough anger in us that the two of us could handle that bastard.
“Sit,” I said, pointing at the toilet. I threw the backpack at him. “Count.” Counting took him 25 minutes. Halfway through, someone rattled the door.
“Get lost!” he shouted.
Behind the closed door, a woman also got angry. Imagine being in a wheelchair and the only restroom you can use being occupied by a money-hungry asshole. Finally, he put the money back in the bag.
“It’s there, but it’s not enough. I’m missing 10000.”
“Stop this nonsense. I’d say we’ve already more than paid our interest in kind. It’s this or jail. And be glad you’re getting this, because you know as well as I do you hadn’t factored that in. And everything inside us still hurts enough to convince any police doctor to arrest you, along with the footage.”
“I want the footage and to delete it from your phone.” He said.
“Forget it. The phone footage has long been secured abroad. Ever heard of the cloud? You stay away from us and Ciaran. If not, you’ll be in jail the next day.” Unexpectedly, I was standing on his left, and Sylvia was simultaneously on his right, the Dyneema chain that could lift tons without breaking, against his throat.
“Do we have a deal, asshole?” I growled.
“Yes, yes, we have settled the debt.”
“Good. Take your goons with you and get out of our lives, for now and always.”
We backed away, and without looking back, he opened the door. The one in dire need had apparently found another solution, because no one was waiting outside. When we walked outside, we saw him signalling to the other two idiots. They had Ciaran hemmed in on both sides, preventing him from moving. He’d been the hostage to protect the big man. The hero in his socks.
Within 20 seconds, they were out the door, bag and all. We waited until we were with Ciaran before the release hit. So much pent-up tension came out at once. Sylvia and I hugged tightly and pulled poor Ciaran in. We exchanged high fives, kissed each other and Ciaran on the mouth, and did a ridiculous dance in the Indian restaurant.
Sylvia looked at Ciaran. “We want to get ridiculously drunk tonight. Are you in? You’ll regret it terribly tomorrow, but tonight we have something to celebrate.”
Ciaran looked at us as if we were crazy. “You’ve just lost €120,000. What’s there to celebrate?” he wondered, flabbergasted.
“Perhaps we can buy some more clothes first? A party dress?” I asked Sylvia.
“Buying clothes is always good,” Sylvia smiled.
“No way, I am going with you to another shop.” Ciaran said.
We held him between us, our arms around his, the chain dangling on his back. Sylvia looked at him with twinkling eyes. What a difference from the worn-out woman of a few months ago. “Then off to the liquor store. Is there anything you don’t like?”
Not since high school have I been this drunk. I remember little about that evening. I remember little about the night either. I do remember waking up in a hotel room that smelled of sex and had sticky semen on my thighs. Sylvia wasn’t in much better shape and was also lying in a wet spot. My luck. I’d had sex with a handsome young boy, and I couldn’t remember a thing about it. Spooned between us was young Ciaran. He looked more handsome than ever. He had a more than decent-sized cock. Nice and thick. Thicker than Johan, God bless his soul. Crusted semen in his pubic hair, he looked like a regular faun. Except for the horns.
Some people wake up drunk with a splitting headache. Luckily, I didn’t have that problem. I was very thirsty, though, and I really needed to pee. Really badly. And if I got up, Sylvia had to get up too. This was our way, with an unbreakable chain between us. A chain on which Ciaran was lying. So he had to wake up as well when I sat up.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.