Revenge
by Amber Averay
Take a look at Amber’s Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheEnchantmentSeries
She lifted the slow cooker’s lid and inhaled deeply. The casserole was cooking beautifully, fragrant and tender and simply mouth-watering. The pot on the stove was beginning to boil, and she added a dash of salt to the water before stabbing a potato with an experimental fork. Not soft enough yet.
Then she took up the stereo remote from the counter and pressed the volume button. Trent’s favourite music pulsed through the speakers, and she tried to enjoy it as if it were her style, busting out some crazy dance moves in the middle of the small kitchen. The clutter made for some interesting steps, and Michelle hopped and skipped around bags of unpacked shopping, containers of rice and pasta that wouldn’t fit in the minuscule pantry, and various pieces of cookware that lived wherever she set them down. She hated how tiny this vile little place was, there was barely room for two people in the kitchen – which showed how determined she was to have fun, dancing when there was hardly space to stand still! Yet her efforts were rewarded by her feet tangling in a woven bag of onions, and she nearly fell face-first into the edge of the narrow counter.
That put an end to her awkward grooving, and she huffed an irritated sigh, puffing sweaty hair from her forehead. It wasn’t a hot day, but the cramped space was overheated and she felt she’d spent an hour in the sauna. But it was no matter. This was for Trent.
Not for him dinner by candlelight, rose petals, scented candles, and soft love songs. She would like that, but this night wasn’t for her. So she played his favourite music, had his preferred meal cooking for dinner – beef casserole and mashed potato, curried sausages, steamed cauliflower and broccoli cooked in a cheese sauce, and dessert was layered jelly trifle with custard, fresh whipped cream, and sugared cherries – his favourite movie was in the DVD player ready to go, and the coffee table was set that they could eat in front of the television.
Oh, and she’d stocked the fridge with the only beer he would drink. This had to be perfect.
This would be perfect.
The cheese-sauce dish was on a low-light in the oven, the potatoes should be ready for mashing in about ten minutes, and she would put the sausages on just before hopping in the shower. She had ready the sheer lace negligee she knew he loved her to wear, and had changed the bed sheets earlier that day – his preference was Egyptian cotton, so that’s what she’d used.
Michelle quickly put the sausages on the heat, stabbed the potatoes again, and then, feeling brighter and lighter, bounced down the tiny hallway – if you could in good conscience call something that was traversed in two steps a hallway – and slipped into the bathroom. The space was too compact for a bathtub, so the room comprised a shower stall, tiny basin, shelf for shampoo and conditioner and soap, and squeezed behind the door, the toilet.
She flung the towel over the closed lid of said toilet and ran the water. When the temperature was right she stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing and washing and soaping, knocking her elbows against the tiled wall each time she lathered up her hair. She would likely end up with bruises, which would be such a good look with her negligee, but she couldn’t spend too long in here – not with food on the stove. Last thing she wanted was to burn the place down – or have the fire department come storming through just as she was expecting Trent! That would put an end to their night quite effectively.
She wrapped a towel about her short black hair, turban-style, and enveloped herself in Trent’s huge green bathrobe. She had bought him a new one recently – wrapped it for tonight, perhaps not the most romantic gift but she knew he’d love it. And she wanted him in the right mood for the moment she asked him The Question.
She quickly checked the kitchen, then in the bedroom dried off, slathered herself with moisturiser, dabbed some perfume, expertly applied subtle makeup, then slipped into her negligee. It felt so marvellous, made her feel sensual and irresistible – much as Trent himself always had.
She pulled one of his old T-shirts on to protect herself from food splashes, and returned to the kitchen. Checking the clock, she saw she had little time before Trent was due, and set about draining the potatoes, adding a dash of milk and knob of butter, and mashing until they were silky smooth. The sausages were soon ready, as were the other dishes. She’d timed it perfectly.
Humming to herself, a love song at odds with the heavy metal thumping through the speakers, she served the food and set the plates on the coffee table. Got some cold beers from the fridge, turned the television on (muted for now, of course), and then removed the T-shirt she wore over her negligee.
It was time!
Hurrying to the closed door, she quickly pulled it open and smiled brightly at her boyfriend. ‘Hello, darling!’ She wrapped him in her arms, pressing a kiss upon his cheek, and then ducked behind him. Manoeuvring the computer chair through the narrow doorway was difficult, but she got him through well enough and wheeled him from the tiny storage room to the lounge. ‘As you can see, all your favourites – food, music, movie, beverage. Only the best for you, my love.’ She leaned down, nuzzling his earlobe, nipping the skin with her teeth. He flinched, snorting breath through his nose.
Michelle laughed, a hard sound. ‘Oh, my sweet, you must be so uncomfortable. Here, let me get that for you,’ and she ripped the tape from his lips then ran her finger over the raw, red skin, a mockery of tenderness from which he tried to recoil. ‘How’s that? At least you’ll be able to eat now – if I let you, that is.’ She gave his cheek a firm slap, sashaying away with swinging hips and a flash of long, pale leg. ‘We’ve been together a long time, you and I.’ She popped the top off a beer, inhaling the fumes before yanking his head back and pouring the contents down his throat. ‘Only the best for you, dear,’ she crooned as he choked and spluttered. She poked at his swollen eye, the black and purple bruise vivid in his wan face. ‘Do you want something for that, darling? Steak? Ice? The other one to match?’ She giggled, revelling in his keening horror. ‘Oh, don’t be silly. Why would I want to hurt you? I loveyou, remember? Just like you love me.’ She slithered to her feet and sank onto his lap, arms about his neck, and pressed a kiss to his discoloured jaw. ‘Remember how you told me that this morning, and last night? And the day before that? Remember, my darling?’
He nodded frantically when she lightly nipped his bottom lip with her sharp teeth. ‘It’s not easy to forget hearing something like that, is it? You know what else it isn’t easy to forget?’ She pulled back and stared into his eyes, her own hard and wild and coldly furious. ‘When you walk in on your boyfriend having sex with another woman, and hear him gasping that he loves her, that his every breath is for her, that his future is with her. That kind of stays with a person, don’t you think?’
Tears had sprung to his eyes, but he held still, watching her with wary intensity.
‘But I want you to know that I love you. I. Love. You. I do. You hurt me, and I’ve hurt you in return. We’re even, aren’t we?’
He nodded, some of his tension bleeding off as she slipped from his lap. Wordlessly she sliced through the tape binding him to the chair at wrists and ankles, and helped him on to the couch where she made him comfortable. She figured, after this, he would simply humour her until he could run to her, or even call the police, but that was an issue for later.
They ate their meal together, all the while feigning affection through a tension so thick it was choking, Michelle lovingly dabbing at his lips and fussing over him and Trent weakly thanking her for her attentiveness and care.
When their plates were clean and bellies full, they sat together on the couch, Michelle’s body angled to face Trent’s, and she ran a caressing finger down his cheek. ‘I wanted tonight to be special for you, darling,’ she whispered, enjoying how his face flushed at her touch. Pretended it was from happiness. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I…I did. Thank you.’
‘Oh, you’re so welcome. You see, I have something special I want to ask you.’ She reached behind her, pulling something from between the couch cushions and holding it to his face. It glittered in the flickering light from the television screen, and his eyes latched on to it, unblinking, fearful.
‘I figured that we’ve been together long time, haven’t we? So there is something I want to ask you.’
‘I bought that for you.’ Trent’s voice was surprisingly steady, only the slightest tremble revealing his nerves. ‘I thought it was perfect for you.’
Michelle ran the diamond across his lips, her touch feather-light. ‘And it would have been,’ she agreed, ‘if it wasn’t engraved with My Holly!’ She screamed in his face, spittle spraying, and she clenched her fist around the ring, fighting the urge to strike him. With considerable effort she calmed herself, before bestowing upon him another beautiful smile. ‘My question,’ she began, calm and gentle, ‘is – did you enjoy your dinner?’
He blinked, nonplussed, and said hesitantly, ‘I did?’
She beamed. ‘Wonderful! I’m so glad, I put so much effort into it. You know, I honestly didn’t realise how hard it is to carve meat from a fresh carcass.’
‘You…what?’
She giggled. ‘Well, my darling, I wanted this to be special for you. And since you seemed to enjoy eating Holly the other night – and God knows when else! – I thought I’d let you do so again.’
With mounting horror he looked from Michelle’s face to the empty plates. The blood drained from his cheeks, replaced by a green tinge, and she spun his head the other way seconds before he vomited. ‘That won’t do you any good,’ she said disgustedly, as he retched and gagged. ‘The poison is already taking effect…’
His face was swelling, burning red now, and he clutched at his throat as his body began jerking and twitching, spasms tearing through him. ‘I swore I would get you back,’ she said softly, watching impassively as he dropped to the floor, ‘and you know me, Trent – I always keep my promises.’
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