Rebirth

A car drove by the brownstone, its radial tires shooting water feet into the air and onto the front lawn. Rains poured down once again, and strong gusts of wind smacked raindrops against the windows of Jessa’s apartment.

After nearly eighteen days of constant rain and dark, gloomy skies, she was used to the dingy feeling of being wet and musty when she got home. Jessa couldn’t hear the storm or the smacking drops of water against the awning over her windows as she stood beneath the hot shower surrounded by steam. She was less focused on the moment than the immediate future.

Letting the water run through her long, slightly blonde hair, she ran her soapy hands over herself. In a few hours, Jessa would be among friends. She knew everything must go perfectly. She played out all the possible outcomes in her head. Jessa was a planner. She had a penchant for seeing problems others missed, and Jessa left nothing to chance.

Jessa was a tactician. She was twelve when, out of nowhere, she entered and won the U.S. Open Chess Championship. It was a feat of brilliance for a wayward teenager who spent most of her years in foster care. That brilliance earned her a free ride to any university she wanted, but she’d settled on Illinois State University.

As gifted, intelligent, and likable as Jessa was, there was always a bright future ahead of her. That is, until Michael. Once Michael walked into her life, she went down a darker path. The intense power of attraction that pulled them together was outmatched only by the pure, unadulterated will of someone capable of taking them apart.

Jessa got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her waist. There was no need for modesty, not at home. Sitting in front of a mirror, looking at herself, she rubbed the scarred area on the side of her neck.

She wasn’t a “girly-girl” by any means of the words. Jessa wore the scars on her neck as badges of honor. Jessa was a survivor, and they proved she was strong enough to get through anything the world threw her way. But they also served as a reminder. A reminder that the world wasn’t what most people think it is.

After Jessa combed out the knots in her hair and did her makeup, she started getting dressed. Everything she needed was ready. When Jessa picked up her jacket and put it on, Jessa looked at her tool supply. A girl couldn’t leave home without her tools, she thought.

She picked up the baby Glock. It came with a Bushnell suppressor. It slid into a custom compartment in her jacket. The specialized rounds in the clip were perfect for a night on the town. Then came her favorite two blades. They tucked into small clips on her belt, and together, they looked like any designer buckle a person would see.

Finally, she picked up the masterpiece of her collection, a bracelet she always wore on nights like this. Once she adjusted it, she looked in the mirror, feeling unstoppable. After six months, Jessa was finally ready to face the world, the world she now knew existed. She was visiting where she got her scars and some of those responsible for giving them to her.

Jessa was hunting for all those responsible for her attack, but most importantly, their leader. After six months of following them, learning their habits, and studying them for weaknesses, she knew what to do. She was going to take back her life since the authorities were too inept to do anything about the monsters.

She knew whether the police believed her or not. She knew where they were, who they were, and most importantly, what they were. The low rent-district club she visited with Shelly was more than a nightclub. It was their home. They didn’t stray far from home, and their leader visited once a month. This was going to be the day she got all of them.

With a final look, standing in her upscale apartment, Jessa knew she was risking everything. She knew the rest of the world would think she went insane if caught. But Jessa had the confidence that she would get them and get out of there before any of the locals who helped their little cabal of shadowy figures had a clue she was there.

“Time to kill,” she told herself as she tapped the mirrored reflection.

The mirrored version of Jessa smiled and then replied, “Go get em’, and get our revenge.”

Her alter ego was her only friend since the attack. It was also her biggest cheerleader. The mirrored version of herself rooted her on as she recovered. Understood the changes she underwent after the attack. It even supported her when she succumbed to the thirst inside her. Her alter ego explained it to her and helped her understand that Jessa was different.

After the attack, when Jessa awoke, she was a predator. She was what they made her, and she could either join them or destroy them.

Tomorrow, Jessa would either be home, or the news would read, “Mentally Ill killed by police after nightclub attack.” The world would go on, not knowing that Club Riche’ was a nest and the patrons were walking happy meals with legs. What the attack turned Jessa into wasn’t a victim. It turned her into a slayer.