Justice

by Beaverhunt

©Copyright 2020 by Beaverhunt

Introduction by ahorsewithnoname: Beaverhunt was a member of my writing website for a number of years. My understanding is that he encountered serious health problems. He hasn't been seen in over three years. As per the site rules, we're publishing some of his work here. We hope for the best for him.

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.

The familiar, white building came into view and was more than a little tempted to let the woman rot inside. If she had chosen that course, she would never have had justice. Her words would forever rattle away inside her head and would continue to believe everything she heard growing up in her mother’s house.

She parked the car and stepped out into the rising sun, which sent waves of warmth across her body. The chill wasn’t from the temperature, and there was nothing she could do about the source. She had never come close to doing anything like what she was planning, but knew it was the only way.

From the moment of her breakdown, she had played the role of dutiful daughter. At first, it was for nothing more than the pleasure she got of seeing her mother institutionalized, but the side effects gave her more interesting plans. The vile woman had been hallucinating from the drugs that were supposed to calm her mind. It wasn’t just the weird shit she was seeing, but the loss of memory she would use to bring about her long awaited justice.

Monica was going to use both to her advantage, since she already knew which pill she would use to increase the effects. It may have started as nothing more than a pleasant idea to gain some control, but the idea wasn’t enough to silence the voices that continued to torment her for as long as she could remember. As long as her mother’s voice continued to dominate her mind, she would never be free of the evil woman who had the audacity to call herself a mother.

She stepped into the sterile environment and felt the familiar chill cross her body. Her heart beat a little heavily as she controlled her breathing. Each step echoed back at her as she made her way to the receptionist and didn’t see the face of the cute brunette she had been tempted to hit on in the past. It was the older one with the permanent scowl waiting, which reminded her a little too much of her mother.

Monica signed her full name, but learned from her first visit that patients and visitors alike were on a first name basis for everything, and waited as she had so many times before. The seats were never comfortable, which she could use to blame for anything that might appear out of the ordinary. She wished for nerves of steel, but settled for the trembling beneath the surface.

Time had a funny way of slowing when she desired it to move faster. What felt like hours of waiting had only been minutes, and she was left to questions herself. Could she really go through with what she had planned? She may have been an evil woman, but she was still her mother.

Her doubts dove deep into her subconscious as she was forced to question every illicit thought that had so consumed her. Between the ticking and the tocking of the slow-moving clock behind her, were the questions of who she would become if she did a single thing to her mother. Would the evil so prevalent in her mother be cast upon her, or would she be free of her grip with justice in hand?

She could get away with all of it and no one would be the wiser. If this were about some perverted sense of retaliation, she wouldn’t have any doubts. This wasn’t about vengeance, but the justice she had been denied. Her mother had never paid for all the things she had done to her and J, which cast a net upon her neck and dragged her down.

Monica’s doubts subsided and knew this was the only way justice would ever become a reality. She knew the difference between vengeance and justice, which was the reason she would keep her soul intact. The evil of her mother would remain with her mother and not be passed on to her.

The room started to fill, and the clock silenced from the soft murmur. Her eyes scanned the faces on the off chance she recognized someone, but they were strangers, as always. They avoided eye contact in a place like this, but a few eyes caught hers for a few brief moments.

The door opened next to the reception desk and the perky blonde spoke with the perky voice that made her skin crawl a little. “Monica.” A brief nod of acknowledgment as she stood. “Dr. Carlyle’s ready for you.”

She walked through and followed behind the blonde without either saying anything. Monica preferred her silence over speech any day with this one. Her eyes glanced down the purple for just a moment and didn’t need to wonder about her panties, since the lines made clear what they were. It was a shame she wasn’t wearing something a little more becoming to her body.

They stopped at room 4. She had been to them all during her mother’s stay and all looked the same. Clinical in grays and whites, with a few reds and browns mixed in. The examination table was the same as any other, complete with white paper over the gray surface. Dr. Carlyle wasn’t in the room. He never was, since being told he was ready had nothing to do with being ready for her.

The perky blonde turned her head towards Monica and spoke with a voice fit for strangling. “It’ll be just a few moments.”

Chapter 2

She closed the door without waiting for a response and left her alone in the cold room. The gray chair with wooden legs looked more inviting than it actually was and chose to pace rather than sit on a cushion that was little more than show. Each step echoed back in a room designed by the mad for the mad.

A tap on the door after countless echoes followed by the smiling face of Dr. Carlyle. He was an older man with gray hair kept short against the fading lines. Despite his age, or perhaps because of it, he was an attractive man whose smile was almost as comforting as his deep voice. His dark flesh played well against his dark eyes, that seemed to glow under the lights. Bedside manner alone proved he was doing something he still loved, unlike the receptionist with the scowl.

The door closed behind him and chose to stand rather than sit on his rounded chair of gray. “How are you doing, Monica.”

She guessed he never stopped playing the role of Psychiatrist and gave an answer he must have heard thousands of times a year. “I’m doing fine, Dr. Carlyle.”

He touched her shoulders with a gentle firmness and nodded the way she’d seen every time they’d met in one of the little rooms. “Good. It’s not going to be easy for your mother to recover, but it’s important for her to have family around.”

Monica gave a false smile as she did her best to match his nod. “I understand. I’ve made arrangements to take some time off work to spend with her.”

His voice changed a little as his grip firmed against her shoulders. “Do you have restraints for the bed she’ll be sleeping in?”

There was a little sincerity in her voice, but hid most of her thoughts from him. “I do.”

His nod showed the importance of what he was about to say. “Good. Your mother still has hallucinations. They aren’t as bad during the day, but you have to restrain her at night. It may seem wrong to do, but it’s important for her safety.”

Monica took in his words to give the appearance of time passing. “I understand, Dr. Carlyle.”

He released her shoulders as he continued on in his wonderful tone. “Her memory loss is getting better. There’s been a few episodes, but not like they were. You understand the need to balance out her medication?”

There was no need to delay her response. “I do. She won’t get better without it.”

His eyes searched hers, probing to find something hidden as he would a patient, but she wasn’t his patient and held firm to her hidden plans. “If you need anything, call the office. We have staff who can help adjust to the difficult times you’re going to be facing.

“Wait here, Monica. I’ll get your mother and be right back.”

She returned to pacing as the door closed with a silent click, since it was better than standing. The chair wouldn’t trap her as it had in the past. Sitting on the hard surface was never a pleasant experience and only served to send unpleasant signals throughout.

She couldn’t tell if there was more or less echoes before the tap came again, but thought it was more. Her mind had been lost in his words of less memory loss, but she’d take care of that. Monica was the dutiful daughter in the place of madness and none, not even Dr. Carlyle suspected anything.

The door opened and her eyes fell to her mother’s dark eyes. There was nothing pleasant about the look; there never was and this time was no different. Brown roots showed below the bleach line of her unkept hair and was a little taken back Her mother had always been so diligent about hiding her real color, just as she had covered her face to hide behind heavy makeup.

In some ways, this wasn’t her mother staring back at her. Had it been the same woman dressed the same way, she wouldn’t have had this easy a time controlling herself. Part of her wanted to lash out, but managed to hide the anger threatening to consume her. There was no shame hidden within to show a hint of feeling sorry about what she had done, but she would learn in time. Justice was coming for her.

Her dark blouse looked wrong without a bra to keep her large tits hidden away. It wasn’t an obvious glance, since she had learned to use her peripheral vision from living under her roof all those years. She wondered if her mother was every bit as pantiless as she was braless, but pressed the idea to the back of her mind.

His arm was around her shoulder as Dr. Carlyle guided her further into the room. The door behind him remained open as she fought a little against his grip. Her mother’s body tightened a little at being seen in such a state. She had always been in control, which led to her breakdown. Here she was, dependent on her daughter to get her out of this place of misery, which she hated almost as much as being institutionalized.

His voice sounded a little different, more professional. “See, Liz. I told you your daughter was here to take you home.”

A scowl reached her lips as her eyes burned into Monica’s, which made it more difficult to control what she really thought about the vile woman. “I’m surprised you made it. You’re dumb enough to get lost in your own house.”

With each word spoken she smiled sheepishly as she had as a child, but this time was going to be different as she bore the words with dignity. “Here to take me home with you? Better off taking me to my house. I’d be better off alone. You can’t take care of me. You’re too useless to take care of me. You can’t even take care of yourself.”

Dr. Carlyle looked apologetic as Monica gave a false smile, and hid the thoughts of coming justice away from both of them. “The medications don’t always have pleasant reactions.”

Monica forced her voice to sound comforting. “I understand, Dr. Carlyle.” She shifted her eyes from his pleasant face to the scowl. “Despite what you believe from the medication, I am here to take you home, mom.”

She shook her head and a few strands of hair fell across her eyes. “I know what you want to do. You want to leave me here. You’re just here to rub it in. You’ve always hated me. I was a good mother and this is the thanks I get for raising you.”

The response she almost gave would’ve been less than flattering, but held back. “I’m here to take you home. You can either go with me, or stay.”

Her head tilted back and glared down. “Fine. Let’s go.”

She tried to turn, but Dr. Carlyle’s grip was too tight. “You’ll need to sign her out and get her things from the receptionist, Monica.”

She looked at him, since she didn’t want to look at her mother’s face. “Alright, Dr. Carlyle.” Monica started to walk towards them and shifted her gaze. “Come on, mom. Let’s get you signed out and get you home.”

She stepped past them as they followed behind and released her mother at the door to the reception area. He was speaking to her mother the entire time in hushed tones, which were too muffled to understand. Monica didn’t need to hear what he was saying to her mother, since she didn’t care. All that mattered was she was getting closer to justice with every step.

Monica stopped at the reception desk to see the scowl stare back at her. “I need to sign my mother out and get her things.”

Paper slipped beneath her hands as she let out a sigh of having to do her job, and croaked out, “Wait here.”

Her mother hovered over her with only breath leaving her body. She could feel her just inches away and wanted to challenge her, but had to have patience. Monica was too close to her goal to let her mother spoil her plans. Using the pen to sign alone was difficult, since it was putting a weapon in her hand. She chose to forgo vengeance in the name of justice and signed her mother out of the place of misery.

A purse and clear bag were placed before them with a soft thud, but otherwise ignored by the old bag before her. Her mother reached over her to snatch the bag as Monica reached for the other. There were a lot of pills and she would be diligent and purposeful.

She tried to shove the clear bag into her purse, but it wouldn’t fit and had to settle for carrying it by hand for all to see. They weren’t for her and didn’t care if others thought her mother was nuts. She pressed past and saw her purse being used to cover what she could without the bra, but all it did was attract the attention of those waiting. Most turned away as quickly as their eyes had been pulled, but a few remained to ogle her mother’s tits, which almost made her smile.

Her voice was quiet to give the appearance of being the dutiful daughter. “Maybe I should lead the way, mom. You don’t know where I parked and know you won’t take the bus.”

She snapped back and used the same tone she had for years. “Fine.”

The temptation to slap her cheek was suppressed as they stepped out into the pleasing rays of the sun. Her mother mumbled every step of the way, but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of turning back. Sweat was starting to build as she continued to lead the way and was glad her mother was downwind.

Monica reached into her purse with her freehand and pulled out the keys to unlock her car, but didn’t bother with opening the door for her. She turned on the ignition and felt a cool breeze hit her knuckles as she continued to wait. The temptation to throw the car into reverse and leave her stranded was there, but she would be denied justice if she gave in.

The passenger side door opened with more force than needed and her mother threw herself in like a child. “You could’ve opened my door.”

Monica wasn’t about to give her any victories, no matter how small. “You have two hands.”

The door slammed shut and the belt clicked into place. “You’re my daughter, or have you forgotten that.”

Instead of giving in, she remained silent as she drove away. Every comment caused her grip to tighten, but wouldn’t say anything in response. Justice was coming and she wouldn’t be denied.

With white knuckles, she made her way to her mother’s house, the same house that filled her nightmares. Every mile closer was another closer to justice, but it wouldn’t be in that house. Her mother’s house would be vengeance; her house would be justice.

She pulled into the driveway and spoke as the tirade about her being a worthless whore came to an end. “Do you need some help to pack, mom?”

Her mother glared at her as the car came to a stop. “No. Unlike you, I’m not useless. I can pack my own things.”

Just as her mother reached to undo her belt. Monica put her car in reverse and started to pull away. “What are you doing?”

It wasn’t easy not to smile as the first part of her plan fell into place. “Taking you home, mom.”

She stamped her feet and raised her voice. “I need to pack. You really are a worthless fucking cunt. I need to pack before we leave.”

Chapter 3

Monica let the words wash over her, since it wasn’t the right time. “What are you talking about, mom? You already packed.”

There was a flurry of words as she stopped the car before reaching the black of the street. Each one brought greater temptation to drag her inside for vengeance, but wouldn’t be stopped. The only thing keeping her focused was the plan.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before putting the car into gear and said, “Your bags are in the trunk, mom.”

The plan was what mattered. Not the screaming like a child in the next seat swearing away. There were temptations, like tearing off her clothes and tying her ass to the roof so she didn’t have to listen to the tirade. Her knuckles remained white as the cool air caressed her hands.

Her mother’s screaming started to become little more than background noise as she started to leave much of civilization behind. She enjoyed the privacy her house gave her, since she was free there like nowhere else. This had become her place of refuge, her safe harbor, her time to spend with J free from prying eyes.

She could do whatever she wished to her mother and no one would hear anything. Justice wasn’t something to be had with prying ears, since ears led to eyes and eyes led to evidence. There would be nothing to stop her from doing what she had to do, and no one would ever tell Dr. Carlyle anything other than her version of events.

Every word, every insult, every vulgarity washed over her as she stopped in front of her house. The only thing that would deny her justice now was herself. She had to remain calm and not give in to the anger boiling away just beneath the surface. Anger was the path of vengeance, which would deny her justice.

She stepped out of the car and opened the trunk with purse and pills in hand. Her mother was continuing to throw a fit, but it didn’t matter. Let her rant away all she wants. No one could hear a thing and nothing was going to stop her now.

The door closed to the sound of insects singing away their songs and a pleasant breeze crossed her face to bring scents of nature. Her fingers gripped her mother’s suitcase and pulled it out without any effort. There wasn’t much to weigh it down, since she hadn’t put much in there the previous day.

She set the bag on the driveway and closed the trunk with a pleasant echo. In her mind, she went over the plan to bring focus to her actions and voice. Her mother had nowhere to go and nothing she could do to prevent what was about to happen.

That was a preview of Justice. To read the rest purchase the book.

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