Flames from the Past: Kill Series #6

I was married to Angie for seventeen years. She was beautiful. She was kind. She gave us a daughter who was also beautiful. Her smile could fill a room, and her laugh had a sweet ring. We were a happy family.  
 
Then, Angie left me for another and took our daughter with her. My daughter wouldn’t speak to me and seemed content to let Angie’s new husband fill the daddy role.  
 
I was devastated. I obsessed over my loss. I self-medicated using a variety of drugs and alcohol. It was a dark year, and I thought my ending was near.  
 
Finally, I landed on something that seemed to keep the demons at arm’s length. I learned that taking the life of another left me in a euphoric state that lasted for weeks. I also learned there was a financial upside for someone with the skills I’d gained in the military.  
 
I justified my actions as providing a service that would be used anyway. Why shouldn’t I provide it since it benefited my mental health and worked out well financially?
 
My first kills went off without a hitch, and I had no mental health struggles from them, but visions of Angie enjoying her new life kept haunting me. I had to do something to stop her tormenting. I resolved to “neutralize” the pain caused by Angie and our daughter, Kristy.  
 
I knew Kristy had a serious boyfriend. I was not too fond of the idea of him getting caught up in conflicts not of his making but decided it was for the best. I smiled, thinking 12-gauge slugs would be appropriate for him.
 
I learned their patterns. Patterns are dangerous things, and they followed them religiously. Angie and her husband went out to eat and then returned home to make love every Friday night. Kristy and her boyfriend made love while Angie and step-dad were out of the house and then left before the parents returned from their meal.  
 
My task was to find open shots, which was easy in the fancy secluded farmhouse with large picture windows in every room. Their bedrooms were on the first floor, and shrubbery provided cover.  
 
Being a careful planner, I did two dry runs, observing their Friday evenings. It was quite a show, but painful to watch men getting such pleasure from two women who’d once meant so much to me.  
 
On the third Friday, I had my rifle and shotgun at my side. First up were Kristy and her guy. They wasted no time stripping down in front of her large bedroom window that faced a secure backyard.  She was beautiful like her mother and seemed to act older than her years. There was such sweet longing in their faces, and I knew their love was strong.  
 
I waited and watched as they began, totally nude on top of her bed. I had struggled with who I should end first but decided Kristy, fearing that an emotional response might interfere with my next actions and knowing he would be a clear target after her.  
 
Kristy was short, like her mom. I hadn’t seen her breasts in several years and was unprepared for how they would remind me of her mother. The last time I’d seen them, she wore a training bra. Now, as she rode her boyfriend cowgirl style, her woman-breasts bounced firmly. Her hair swayed over her shoulders. It was supposed to be the brown she inherited from me, but she’d colored it blonde. I wondered if her boyfriend knew her actual hair color. At that moment, his face glowed with satisfaction. I thought he must have been arriving in heaven early that night.  
 
My mind raced back to the times when Angie conceived Kristy. I thought of us making love while she was pregnant and how close we had all once been.  
 
As I watched my daughter and the young man making love, I could hear her clear laughter through the large window. I became dizzy and saw the flames of war rise around them and heard the screams of children. My mind flashed back to combat. I felt deep hate at how Kristy had fallen so easily into a new relationship with her step-dad and now her young lover. How could all that we’d once known burn away, replaced by something new?  
 
Crack went my rifle. The flames disappeared, and Kristy tumbled quickly away without a sound. I set the gun down and raised the 12-gauge. Kristy’s boyfriend was frozen in shock as his lover fell away to the floor. He looked down where Kristy had been and saw only his hard cock exposed and shining. He turned to the broken window as he sat up in the bed, crying and grabbing at sheets. My second blast entered his chest. All was silent.  
 
I checked the time and would use the next 45 minutes to move the boyfriend’s car to nearby woods and get into position at Angie’s window.  
 
(To be continued)