Hillary_Tail of the Dog (30 page)

“
Awww
...your balls are bleeding,” she said impishly. “I’d better cauterize that wound.”

She reached down and grabbed the straightening iron from the floor. It was one of those models that automatically shut off after a prolonged period without use.

“Shit,” she cried, “now I have to wait for it to heat up again.”

Dr. Bentley was greatly relieved, for a few seconds anyway, before anxiety flooded his senses. Bathed in sweat and shaking with fear, he begged Hillary not to hurt him. He tried reasoning with her as he cried, all the while knowing that it would do no good. He knew he was merely feeding Hillary’s sadistic hunger, but he could not help himself. Instinctively, he begged for mercy and compassion, traits that Hillary simply did not possess and was therefore incapable of giving. With abandoned hope, he sobbed like a child.

“
Poor Jakey
,” she teased maliciously, “I’d like to tell you that it won’t hurt much...I’d like to tell you that it’s going to be okay for you...that you’re going to live to see your family....”

She picked up the straightening iron and gave him a chillingly eerie glare as she held his penis in her other hand. His stomach churned, wrenched with unparalleled fear and anxiety. He knew what was coming next. His heart pounded within his tightening chest.

“...but I don’t want to lie to you,” she finished, as she placed his penis within the plates of the straightening iron and pressed the handles together, engulfing his flattened penis within the scorching instrument of torture. Dr. Bentley felt a white-hot explosion of unimaginable pain and screamed in agony as Hillary laughed hysterically at the sight, sound and smell of his smoldering manhood. He had thought that pain had a limit but he was discovering intricate and horrendous levels of pain that he didn’t know was possible.

Hillary removed the iron ten excruciatingly insufferable seconds later and inspected her handiwork. Dr. Bentley’s penis was a blackened burgundy color, swollen and glistening with painful blisters. Hillary dug her nails along the shiny, raw shaft of his badly burned penis, drawing blood. A whole new level of pain introduced itself to Dr. Bentley as he gasped for air. He was breathing rapidly, his heart racing. He knew he could no longer withstand the pain. He let out a distressing moan, threw his head back, closed his eyes and awaited the blissful, numbing darkness.

“
No!
” Hillary shouted. “
You can’t die yet!
”

She was seething with rage. She had only just begun having fun with him. She still had so much in store for the handsome doctor. She reached out to strike him and stopped short when she heard the familiar ringtone chiming. His phone was ringing again.

Angrily, Hillary walked over to the table to retrieve it. She stared at the name displayed on the screen: Patty. It was Dr. Bentley’s wife again.

“Yes, Patty?” Hillary answered tersely.

“Put my husband on the phone,” Patty demanded.

“What? Are you kidding me? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Tell me...just who am I speaking with?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Hillary said excitedly, “I’ll go over there and show you.”

“Well come on over,” Patty insisted, having no clue whatsoever that she was inviting a crazed psychopath into her home. She was curious to meet this person who claimed to be her husband’s girlfriend. She didn’t believe it for a second. She thought, more likely, that Jake had misplaced his phone and this horrible woman had found it and was playing games with her. Even if this person was his mistress, she was more than willing to meet with her and get to the bottom of this. She’d give her a piece of her mind, and maybe a good slap across the face as well.

“You’re just saying that...you won’t let me in. You’ll be too afraid to face me, to learn the truth,” Hillary said tauntingly, defying Patty to welcome her into her home.

“I don’t think you have the nerve to show up here,” Patty retorted.

“I can be there in a couple of hours,” she replied confidently.

“Uh-huh,” Patty said skeptically, “so you know where I live?”

“Of course I know where you live…I’ve been in your bed.”

The thought of Jake bringing another woman into their home made Patty sick to her stomach. She didn’t really believe this woman. Surely it was just a sick joke or misunderstanding.

“So where do I live then?”

“Juniper Lane,” Hillary replied without hesitation. She heard Patty let out a gasp.

Patty was speechless. This was no random person who had happened upon her husband’s lost cell phone.

“Where’s Jake?” she asked impatiently. She wanted answers. “Put him on the phone.”

“Nope. I’m going to wash up and then visit you. Then we can talk all about it...if you have the guts.”

“Oh I have the guts,” Patty answered angrily. She heard a click. Hillary had ended the call.

“Oh yes, I’m sure you have lovely, lovely guts. I’m going to rip them out of you and strangle you with them,” Hillary said aloud, venting her anger over Dr. Bentley’s untimely demise. At least her fun wasn’t going to end just yet. She would have two more people to play with. She could hardly wait to meet sweet little Amber Skye. Children were especially fun to play with. She would tie her up and make her watch as she tortured her mother. Even before putting a hand on her, Hillary would terrorize her. Then the real fun would begin.

Jake stayed perfectly still, feigning his death. He couldn’t believe his luck. The overwhelming pain had caused him to hyperventilate and nearly pass out. He held his breath and pretended to die, hoping it would spare him from the prolonged agony. He was striving for a short break from the pain and had gotten so much more than he bargained for. It was perfect timing that his wife had called. Hillary never checked to make sure that he was in fact dead. The irritating phone call from his wife provided the perfect distraction.

On one hand, he knew that Hillary had every intention of going to his home and torturing his family, and the mere thought distressed him more than anything. Yet, he knew that once Hillary left Dr. Morrison’s house, he could call Patty and warn her—tell her to take Amber Skye and get out of there. He’d have more than enough time...if...
IF
he could somehow break free from the duct tape that tightly bound his upper body to the seat. At least Hillary had freed his legs. His mind raced with thoughts of escape as he made a conscious effort to breathe slowly and shallowly. The last thing he needed was for Hillary to realize that he was alive. He could hear her gathering up the items from the floor not too far away from him. He surmised that she was packing up her tools of torture for use on his wife and daughter. Though his heart raced and his mind screamed and shouted, he held his breath and stayed perfectly still.

With the shopping bag in hand, Hillary approached him. He could sense that she was nearby. His heart thundered within his chest. He wondered if Hillary could hear it pounding. Terrified, he struggled to keep from visibly shaking. He held his breath for as long as he could bear, taking slow, shallow breaths in between.

Hillary crouched down and picked up Dr. Bentley’s wallet, driver’s license and credit cards. She threw them into the bag then walked over to the table. She placed both cell phones into the bag and walked out of the room. Hillary went straight to Monica’s room to find something to wear.

She’d have to wear a dress since she was much thinner than Monica. There was no chance that her jeans or shorts would fit her. The white dress she had put on earlier would have been perfect, but now it was ruined. None of the other dresses Monica owned appealed to her. Either they were too formal or too unstylish. Not that Hillary cared about fashion but she just didn’t want to draw attention to herself in a big, drab dress. She wondered if the floral dress had any blood on it.

She padded back to the room where she once spent her long days tied to a bed, bored and lonely, while her hatred festered. Now she had taken vengeance on those responsible, or at least most of those responsible. She knew she needed to work quickly. It would only be a matter of time before the bodies were discovered. She walked over to the dress that had been discarded on the floor. There was no way she could wear it. Not only did it have blood on it, but urine and possibly vomit as well. The room was a disgusting mess. She sighed heavily as she stormed out of the room.

Dr. Bentley sighed quietly in relief. He had his eyes open when she entered the room. He hadn’t heard her coming. He’d thought for sure he had been caught. Thankfully, she must not have glanced his way. He couldn’t tell what she was doing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Hillary was rummaging through Monica’s dresser drawers hoping to find a pair of leggings and a tee shirt. She found a decent-enough shirt but no leggings. Leave it to Monica to have a difficult wardrobe. She pulled out a stack of jeans. With any luck, there would be a pair of stretch jeans, or skinny jeans that wouldn’t look too terribly on her. She checked the tags inside. All of the jeans were labeled size five. They would swim on her skin-and-bones body. She used to be a size two. Now, thanks to Dr. Morrison’s liquid IV diet, she doubted that a size one would fit.

Growing aggravated, Hillary raced back to the closet. She couldn’t waste time worrying about what to wear. She pulled a plain cotton dress off one of the hangers and slipped it on. It was baggy and unflattering but she didn’t care. She wasn’t trying to win a beauty contest. Besides, in a couple of hours, it would look just as bad as the white, or rather,
formerly white
dress. Hillary tried on some of the shoes and settled on pair of canvas sneakers. Even with the thickest pair of socks Hillary could find, they were still about two sizes too big on her. She then walked to the bathroom, washed her hands and face and ran Monica’s hairbrush through her tangled hair. She looked like a mess, but it was the least of her concerns. She needed to find out where she was and how to get a cab to pick her up.

Hillary jogged to Dr. Morrison’s office and began searching his desk for mail. She needed to know the address of the house she was in. Dr. Morrison’s laptop was on and she noticed the report he had mentioned working on. It was dated August 25, 2012. She scrolled up to the top of the document. Though Dr. Morrison had referred to her as “the subject,” it was readily apparent that the report was about her. She wanted to rush out of the house and be on her way to Dr. Bentley’s house, but curiosity got the best of her and she started reading the report.

The report was being prepared for Lieutenant Alan Langford, the same military man who had recruited Dr. Morrison for his research. Dr. Morrison had written some horrible things about Hillary, though, to be fair, Hillary acknowledged that most of the things he mentioned had been true.
He didn’t mention that he raped me
, Hillary thought resentfully.

Although it was difficult for Hillary to understand some of Dr. Morrison’s technical and medical terminology, one thing was clear. He was recommending her termination. He stated that her “...disturbingly deep psychosis prevented her from being a viable candidate” for his Neuronentin research. Apparently, she was an incurable psychopath and needed to be disposed of.
Look who ended up terminated!
Hillary joked to herself. Dr. Morrison had gotten what he deserved. Monica and Dr. Bentley as well. Now it was time to finish up...starting with Dr. Bentley’s picture-perfect family.

After writing down Lieutenant Langford’s contact information, Hillary deleted the report. Supposedly, no one except Lieutenant Langford knew she was there, and she wanted to keep it that way. She was dead to the world. That suited her perfectly fine. Then she wouldn’t be accountable for the atrocities she left behind. No one would search for her. To be safe, she would destroy the laptop before she left.

She opened drawers and files and searched under heaps of papers. Finally, Hillary found what she needed—an envelope addressed to Dr. Morrison with his home address. Now she knew exactly where she was. She turned her attention back to the laptop and searched online for a cab company within Bellefluer, the town where Dr. Morrison’s house was located. There was just one listing in another town called Sea Cove. She hoped it was nearby. Hillary grabbed the cordless phone on the desk and dialed the number. The dispatcher, a woman with a deep, hoarse voice informed her that she could have a cab in front of the house in ten minutes. It would cost forty-five dollars to drive to Juniper Lane in Summerville. Hillary arranged for her pickup. She would be ready to go by then.

Without sparing another minute, she picked up a heavy brass-toned stapler and slammed it violently against the screen of the laptop. It shattered, leaving behind an intricate cobweb-like design. She closed the cover, picked up the laptop and slammed it numerous times into the corner of Dr. Morrison’s desk. Then she threw the mangled laptop to the floor.

What the hell is she doing?
Dr. Bentley wondered, hearing the ruckus. He desperately wanted her to leave and was growing impatient. After she had walked into the room and nearly saw him with his eyes opened and head up, he wasn’t taking chances. His eyes had remained closed and his head tilted far back. He intended to stay that way until he heard the front door close. He could hear Hilary shuffling about the house. He had heard her carrying on a muffled conversation, to whom, he had no idea. He had wondered if she had called his wife. He knew that’s exactly where she was headed next. Patty would have no idea what who she was. She’d invite her in. She wouldn’t stand a chance against Hillary.

Adrenaline pumped within his veins as he thought about what that meant: It was entirely up to him to save his family. Failure was not an option. He had to break free and warn his wife to grab Amber Skye and get out of there fast.

The minutes dragged on until at last, he heard the honking of a horn. He could hear Hillary’s footsteps trudging down the hall.

Hillary ran into Monica’s room and grabbed the shopping bag. Many of the items therein were blood-stained but she didn’t think it would be noticeable. Just as long as the bag didn’t break open, she would be fine. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror before leaving the room and shrugged. As she approached the front door, she quickly ran through a mental list in her head, making sure she had everything that she needed. Then she exited Dr. Morrison’s house, slamming the door shut behind her.