I raised my head, and saw his house in the distance; I knew it was his, even though I had never been there. During my final few months in Belmarsh I had been given special privileges for good behaviour. I used the Internet to find where he lived and useful things I’d need to know about the bastard who ruined my life. He had a wife Suzanne; a son, also called John aged 12; and a daughter, Ruby aged 8.
There it was, his house. It was larger than what I had previously thought; I could see he had a large garden stretching quite a way back, about 200 yards or so. His wife’s small red girly ford was parked in the driveway, along with his big black Jaguar. They were all at home, no doubt settling down to dinner, or watching some horrendously cheesy family evening programme.
I looked up at his house. Good, he didn’t have any CCTV. I began to stalk round to side of his house. “Oi”, someone, presumably Banks, shouted from an upstairs window, “what the hell are you doing?” I stopped. Had he seen me? No he couldn’t have it was too dark. Deciding to not take any chances I slowly crouched and very slowly crawled behind a bush. Confident that he couldn’t see me, I looked upwards. There he was! The target of all my anger for the past 12 years, the person I had killed millions of times in my dreams, the arsehole who had ruined my life, whom I had sworn to take revenge upon was there, his head out of the window. I couldn’t see what he was looking at, but I didn’t care; this was my chance. I slowly pulled out my pistol and took aim, my finger wrapped around the trigger, I was just about to squeeze when, no I realised what I had come here to do. I lowered the gun and put it back inside my pocket. I had come here to make Banks suffer. Shooting him now would have been too easy. Sure, he would have been dead, but he wouldn’t have suffered. He would have been dead instantly. I wanted to see him suffer; I wanted him to know why he was going to die.
The window shut, Banks had retreated inside moments before. My initial chance had gone, but I knew another was soon to come.
I sneaked up to the side gate, more careful now, my initial cockiness brought down to earth by my recent close encounter, climbed up and over it, ripping my trousers, and cutting my arm on the top which had jagged glass embedded into it. I was in his garden. I was close now, but I could feel the warm blood in my arm escaping its natural passage, trickling down my left arm. I tried to hold the gun with my left hand, but it slipped and fell. “Bugger!” I whispered, aware that the sound of metal colliding with a concrete patio may have already alerted the Banks’ to my presence. I peered through the large, transparent patio doors. I sharply drew in breath. I was about 2 yards away from my victims. The lounge backed straight on to the patio and garden, their couch parallel to, but facing away from, the patio doors which I was currently standing outside. They were watching TV, I was right; it was a cheesy Saturday evening program. I thought about raising my pistol again but decided against it, I didn’t know if their glass was bullet proof. If it were, I would be going back to Belmarsh, with nothing completed.
I knew I couldn’t hang around here for long. If I stood here any longer, just gaping at them, I was sure to be discovered. I scurried across to the other side of the garden, where the garage and back door were. I took my time at the door, preparing myself for what was to come. I slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. Thank God it didn’t squeak. I stepped into the garage, and slowly crept up to the door, I turned the handle of the door that led into the kitchen. Suzanne was there, washing up. My heart was pounding, I was two feet away from my first victim. I inched up to her, wrapped my fingers around her throat and squeezed. She didn’t put up much of a fight, just collapsed to the floor. The feeling was exhilarating, I hadn’t been on this kind of high since my first killing spree, 13 years ago. I laid her prone body on the floor, and grabbed some rope that was lying on the kitchen counter. Slowly, I opened the kitchen door, with the gun in my hand. My left hand was now useable, but a trail of blood showed my every move around the house, I would be spending some more time in prison.
I heard the kids run upstairs, inches away from me. I waited for a few seconds, then entered the lounge. Banks was sitting there smiling, but his expression quickly turned to horror when he saw my face and the gun. I motioned for him to keep quiet. “One peep out of you and you’re dead.” I pulled out one of the dining chairs at sat him on it. “You ruined my life you worthless jumped up piece of shit. Tonight I’ll get my revenge. Your wife’s already dead.” He was crying now, begging for me to stop. I ignored his pathetic attempt and tied him up on the chair. Checking that the knots were secure I kicked him and it over, his head crashing onto the floor. I left him and grabbed his children, who were brushing their teeth in the bathroom. They were both weedy, and let out yelps of terror and pain as I threw them first down the stairs and then onto the lounge floor. I attached the silencer to my gun and shot them both, they were dead instantly. I lifted Banks up along with the chair. He was crying helplessly, saying he was sorry, trying to stop me, it wouldn’t work. The last twelve years of my life had been devoted to this moment; a few words weren’t going to stop me now.
I walked over to the opposite end of the room kicking the prone bodies of the children out of my way in the process I took aim, everything was happening in slow motion now. “No,” Banks screamed, “You don’t have to do this”. I shot. I thought I could see the bullet whistle through the air, I certainly heard fizz and then splat as it embedded itself in Banks’ head, his brains splatting against the wall. I had done it I’d killed the bastard who put me away! I was on such a high that I danced around the room.
I came back to my senses, and left through his front door, glanced at my watch; 10:23, the last bus wouldn’t have gone, I sprinted across the road to where I could see a bus. I jumped on, “Single to Hockley please, mate”.
