The door opened a crack. Laila started up in the tub. The water splashed on the black slate steps. Laila studied the door. She probably forgot to close it properly. Unknowingly, she pulled the shower head out of its holder, set the water temperature, and started washing the shampoo out of her hair.
The water rushed over her head. How should I teach the parents that I have destroyed the remains of their children? Laila decided to suppress this unimportant detail. She would light Summersby's house and its contents. If she was rested, she would scan the body of Summersby beforehand.
The photos and black binder had to suffice as evidence. Laila registered a movement out of the corner of his eye. Before she could react, her neck was inexorably submerged between her knees by a hard piece of metal. Laila struggled with all her strength. Her back shrieked in pain as the metal squeezed her deeper so that Laila's forehead hit the bottom of the tub.
Her splayed legs were pressed against the walls of the pool. Laila was stuck in the tub like a gymnast doing stretching exercises. She hit her with her arms and tried to reach the metal on the back of her neck.
From the curved piece stood another vertically. Laila felt like a skewered fish. Her right hand struck against cloth and touched something hard. Laila's fingers closed in panic and pulled. The thing gave way and her wrist slammed painfully on the edge of the hot tub.
Laila quickly pulled his hand under the water and kept the thing as well as possible before her eyes. In the murky bathing water she stared in disbelief at the golden chain. This was Summersby, who inexorably submerged her. How could that be, the pig was dead? Laila's lungs burned, she would not be able to stop the air for a long time.
Desperately, she doubled her efforts to free herself from the deadly grip. Vain. Laila closed her eyes. She saw Brutus squeezing her into a tub of water, shouting that he would not let her go until he thought she had drowned.
Despite the burning pain in her back, Laila began to twitch under the grasp. Gradually she let the convulsions weaken, until finally she hung silently under the iron grip. She squeezed the last of the air out of her lungs and prayed that Summersby's rising air bubbles would be registered.
Laila relaxed all her muscles and peed in the bathwater. She tried to think of nothing and to resist the ever-increasing feeling of breathing. The hard metal pressed relentlessly against her neck. The pig wanted to play it safe.
Suddenly the pressure was gone. Laila let her upper body bounce up from the buoyancy of the water and struck hard with the temple against the tub. With her eyes closed, she heard Summersby romp and scream.
She allowed herself two silent, shallow breaths. The burning in her lungs increased. Not for long anymore and she would not be able to suppress the rising cough. Summersby shrieked like crazy. As it sounded, he kicked a wall.
Good, then he was not in their immediate vicinity. Laila inhaled flat again. "Did you think you could turn me off so easily, you stupid piece of shit, I have so much vitality that you need more than that broth to kill me. "
Laila was pulled out of the tub under his armpits and hit hard on the steps and slate floor. Her left hand lay on the rough fabric of her jeans. 'The scalpel' shot Laila through the head.
"I'm pissing on you." Laila heard the ripping of a zipper and shortly thereafter warm liquid ran down her back. She resisted the urge to shake with disgust. Again the ripping of the zipper. "I'll hack you to pieces and feed you to the crows." Angry, Summersby stomped out of the bathroom.
Laila began to breathe heavily and fingered her jeans. The scalpel was in the back pocket. She tried to change the position of the jeans as little as possible. After endless seconds, she closed her wet fingers around the handle of the blade.
She pushed her under her left hand and lay still. Summersby trudged back to the bathroom. Legs apart, he stopped in front of Laila. He slipped his foot under her shoulder and nudged her. Laila let his muscles relax and nudge off his toe.
Summersby giggled hysterically. "I crush your pretty face." Laila grabbed his ankle. Summersby gave a surprised cry.
She rammed the blade into his calf.
**************************************
The skin stretched over Laila's thick stomach. Dark veins pulled over the curve. She could not see the burn of her first order, but her fingers slid across the ups and downs that burned into her flesh. Without knowing the brand, Laila knew that the numbers had been pulsing in a dark red for some time.
Laila put her hands on her pregnant belly. She felt the creature move in her mind under her hands. An uncomfortable feeling, as if boulders rolled in her body from left to right. Suddenly a painful pulling.
The tight skin threw bumps and waves. Laila's abdominal wall opened. The edges of the wound were jagged, as if a cannonball had been fired from within. A yellowish, viscous liquid seeped out of the opening. Slowly, a malformed head emerged from the wound.
Laila saw horns and glowing red eyes. She screamed at the soul. Laila woke up screaming and sweating. She sat in bed, her hands pressed tightly to her flat stomach. Only with difficulty did she shake off the last aftermath of her nightmare. Exhausted, she reached for a glass of water on the bedside table and drank it down greedily.
Resigned, she let her head hang. It was now almost five years ago and almost every night she dreamed again of the birth of the creature that the ram man had fathered with her.
Tamara's father had removed the fertilised egg from her. He was so fascinated by Laila's accounts that he preserved the thing in liquid nitrogen for research purposes. "For the research." he had told Laila.
Laila had asked no further questions. Tamara's father set up a Swiss bank account for her with the help of his brother Benedict. $ 200,000 was worth the rescue of his daughter. Benedict, Tamara's godfather, created a rock-solid mesh around Laila and her new vocation.
Belinda Hammersfield got a proper Social Security number and everything needed to live a good middle-class life. Belinda was a therapist specialising in the fears of parents traumatised by the violent death of her child. Benedict created and managed the website, which was set up for personal contact.
He made the first contact with interested clients and clarified the business conditions. Laila never contacted her customers directly. Only at the fulfilment of the contract they saw Laila.
Benedict had a skilful hand and attracted satisfied customers whose job or position in society was valuable, among those who left Laila free to do what she knew best - slaughtering child molesters and child molesters. Thanks to Benedict's support, Laila was able to break away from Miguel and Anita.
The two had enough to do with themselves. After five years, Laila was looking for a retirement home. She was tired of accepting orders and judging the scum of humanity. More and more monsters gave birth to this sick company.
When Laila killed one, she found at least four new cases on the Internet, where nameless monsters had started their perverse activities. It was a Sisyphus work, with no chance of success. Laila found barely restful sleep. In her dreams she accompanied the ram man.
In her recent assignment Laila would almost have been killed herself, because she was completely tired and careless. That had to stop. Jessica's murder was atoned. Laila could hardly imagine that Jessica would have wanted Laila's death.
So she commissioned her Swiss financial genius, the only client she had not been able to serve, to find her a large piece of land with a forest and hut, far from civilisation. Laila's retirement home.
Laila drove through the vast Texas countryside in her Porsche Boxter Cabriolet - her property, not a rental car. The wind played with her hair, in the passenger seat was the expose of the small farm that the Swiss banker had sent her over to Benedict.
Laila was reluctant to imagine her retirement in America. Too many unattractive memories connected her with this country. Canada - that would be Laila's first choice. The low-quota country, its stunning nature and lonely squares had secretly sneaked into her heart.