The sweat stained her dress and dripped from her furrowed brow. She stood, blood running down her arms, soaking her cream shoes as she watched the life leave his mangled body. He choked on the air as his lungs failed him, his eyes wide with fear staring up at her. He couldn’t move, only glare at her. Marie said nothing, her happy panting said everything in the silence of the countryside. She had enjoyed the slaughter, she had enjoyed murdering Jefferson, enjoyed beating his body until his knees buckled and his heart weakened. And now, Marie was enjoying the last few breath escape him as she savoured her sweet revenge. To add to the pleasure of his dying, she swung one last kick to Jefferson’s stomach making him cough blood that splattered all over the wet grass next to him.
“Bitch” he spat.
“Shut up, freak. I’ve had enough of you and your bile.” Jefferson started to shake, and she picked him up by the jacket. “No, no, no don’t you go dying on me. I’m not done with you yet.” Her strength was unmatched by any man, she lifted him with ease until their faces were equal. “Tell me where she is.”
“I don’t know who you’re-”
“Tell me!” Marie screeched, saliva hitting his blood-drenched face. “Where is she?” She tightened her grip on his jacket, and head-butted him. Her brain vibrated in her skull. “Where is my daughter?”
“You won’t find her-”
“You won’t find her in one piece.” he cackled.
Marie dropped him, kicking him in the head. Repeatedly. It bled and bled as she kicked him, the blood spreading over the pair of them. The final blow killed him and her foot broke as she cracked his blood covered skull.
“No… No.” she whined, collapsing to the ground beside the dead body. “She- she can’t be…”