An Eye for an Eye

Chapter Four

Disclaimer: This work is fictional and any resemblance to anyone is purely coincidental.

A/N: To everyone who is reading this story—thanks! Your support has meant a great deal to me! To Anonymous: It’s perfectly okay with me if you want to remain nameless.

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Brian cast one disdainful look around his cell before turning and leaving it for the last time. He didn’t want to take anything; he carried what he needed on him—his battered photograph of Nana and the pocketful of money from Vic was all he wanted to remind him of this place. Never again would he have to wake up and see bars on the windows. Never again would he wake up in the middle of the night from an unwelcome grope from another man. The only groping and fumbling in the dark now would only come from women. Most importantly, if and when he wanted sex, it would be on his terms.

During the last two months, Brian deliberately refrained from masturbation but tonight he would surrender to his desires. Ever since the news of his impending release, he knew exactly what he would do on his first night of freedom—find a place to live, enjoy some Jack Daniels and when he was drunk enough, he would seek out female companionship. The thought of shelling out a few bucks for sex didn’t bother Brian in the least—whatever it cost, it would be worth it to feel a woman’s body under him again. His groin tingled pleasantly.

But first things first. He walked briskly down the hallway, flanked by the two guards who were accompanying him to the last room in this hellhole he would ever visit—The Property Room. All the items he’d had on him when he was incarcerated were there and Brian wanted to tear off the blue shirt and trousers as quickly as possible and get back into his old jeans again.

“In a hurry?” one of the guards teased as they quickened their steps to keep up with him.

Brian grunted instead of saying anything.

“Not answering me, huh? That’s okay, kid. You’ll be back in here before you know it. I can wait.”

“Fuck you!” Brian sneered. “I’m not coming back.”

“You know how many times I’ve heard that from a con who got released? More times than I can count.”

He knew the guard was only trying to goad him into a fight but he’d be damned if he was going to play that game. Only a few steps further and I’ll be a free man, he reminded himself. Don’t fuck it up by doing or saying something stupid. Brian swallowed his anger and clenched his hands into hard fists. And said nothing.

Processing an inmate on his way out was a lot faster than processing one in and in less than twenty minutes, Brian had changed his clothes and was already on his way out the door. He discovered the unpleasant fact that he’d have to buy new clothes—he’d lost weight and muscle since the last time he’d worn them and they hung loosely on his frame. Until that time, his leather jacket hid the deficiencies well enough.

Leaving the grey bulk of the prison walls behind him, Brian began to walk. He did not look back.

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The first thing Brian noticed about being outside the prison walls was how noisy and crowded the world had suddenly become. Shouting people hurrying past him, cars honking, and the wails of distant sirens were beginning to give him a headache.

The hardest thing about being on the outside was forcing himself to look straight ahead when women passed him on the street. It didn’t matter to him if they were young, old, pretty or ugly, he felt like a kid let loose in a candy store. Being in a strictly male-dominated world for the last two years made Brian forget what a woman looked—and smelled--like. The overpowering aromas of their perfume, deodorant and hair spray threatened to send his senses into overload when they walked by. He could feel his cock stir at the thought of feeling the heat of their pussy walls around his dick as he climaxed, spurting his hot seed deep inside them. It had been so long!

But that would have to wait.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and kept walking. From a distant memory, he knew there was a Salvation Army second-hand store not far from his present location. For less than ten dollars, he could buy enough clothes to last for a couple of days. Better yet, they’d know where cheap rooms could be rented. Sure, there would be roaches living there that would be as big as rats, but it would still be a roof over his head until he found something permanent.

Brian took his time over his clothing selections. He knew he’d need something that fit him better than what he was currently wearing. The jeans were priced at a dollar a pair and Brian bought three as well as shirts to go with them. Hidden at the back of the crowded store was the shoe department and again Brian was fortunate to find two pairs in his size. They didn’t look too bad and he was pleased with his purchases. He asked for and received permission to wear his new clothing outside and said good riddance to his old ones by throwing them in a nearby dumpster. He’d kept his leather jacket—the air was getting chilly outside and he’d need it. His jacket combined with his new clothes added bulk to his too-thin frame and gave him a feeling of respectability and self-confidence. Not wanting to look like the male equivalent of a bag lady, Brian bought a sturdy backpack to put all his belongings into. Because of his age and the fact that it was autumn, anyone looking at him would naturally assume he was just another college student.

But by far his best acquisition of the shopping trip was the address of a rooming house. It wasn’t much; the cashier at the Salvation Army’s store had warned him it wasn’t much to look at and when he entered the room, he knew she wasn’t lying. Still, it was a place to sleep and it was clean. There was a convenience store nearby and Brian bought soap, shampoo and other toiletries.

The sports coat fit him better than he expected. He’d bought it on impulse, knowing he needed something a little nicer to wear if he wanted to get lucky when he went out later. He laid it carefully on the chair so as not to wrinkle it. Linens were provided and could only be called threadbare but they would have to suffice until he could get his own.

After napping for an hour, Brian got up and padded down the hall to the bathroom that the third-floor occupants shared. After walking most of the day, he wanted to have a shit, a shower and a shave, in that order. Brian stood for a long time in the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his skin. He closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of having the bathroom to himself; in prison, privacy in the shower was unheard of—so was dropping the soap and picking it off the floor. Any inmate who did that never knew he ran the risk of being to be violated from behind. More often than not, Brian and other vulnerable cons chose to let the bar of soap remain on the floor rather than taking an unnecessary risk of retrieving it. He scrubbed himself hard, his skin turning a bright pink from the force he used.

After his ablutions, Brian’s entire body tingled as he rubbed himself dry. It seemed as if the shower removed the experiences of the last two years. He felt like a new man. Reborn and remade—the last shower he had had was when he was imprisoned but now he was free! Free to do whatever he wanted. No more rules. No more bars locking him in. Today was the first day of the rest of his life.

Brian dressed and returned to his room. He divided his money into three piles and hid it in different areas of his room—one bundle he wrapped in plastic and put into the toilet tank, and the second he’d removed the last drawer in his dresser and put the money on the floor before putting the drawer back to where it was. They weren’t the most original hiding places but it was better than keeping his precious funds in one place. In an establishment like this one, he knew that the other occupants of the place might decide to toss his room to search for valuables.

He felt completely refreshed now and decided to do some exploring around his new neighbourhood. The rooming house was only a block or two from the downtown core and Brian set off, taking care to notice the street signs and location of several key businesses so he could find them again if he needed to.

Brian entered a sporting goods store that was down the street. The moment his hand touched the door, Brian resolved then and there not to use Vic’s contact. The prison was worse than a ladies’ sewing circle for gossip and it wouldn’t be long until everyone knew his business. There was even the chance that one of the guards might want to warn Granger as a professional courtesy from one law enforcement officer to another. The less anyone else knew about where he was or what he was planning, his chance of success would be greater.

Not wanting to purchase a skateboard or a mountain bike that were located predominately in the front of the store, Brian strolled leisurely toward the back where there were other items for sale. Hunting rifles and archery supplies were kept here. Brian’s attention was drawn to the massive display case that housed the store’s selection of knives.

Ah, now we’re talking, he thought, his eyes skimming over the deadly looking knives. As a young boy a lifetime ago, he’d gone fishing and hunting with his grandfather and he’d learned how to skin small game such as partridge, and when he was old enough, he’d been allowed to try his hand at skinning a deer. It was hard work but Brian had never forgotten the experience.

Even in this part of town, he could own the hunting knife and no one would bother him, providing he didn’t advertise the fact that he owned one by flashing it around. With a gun, all it would take is an off-duty cop to see it before asking awkward questions. Questions that would reveal where he’d been for the last two years. Questions that could very well get him thrown back there before nightfall. Brian shuddered. In the long days and weeks he’d spent patiently planning his revenge against Granger, Brian knew that if worse came to worse and his plan failed or if he got caught, he’d kill himself rather than re-enter that place.

With a knife, there would be no need to fill out a form. If the clerk should ask why Brian was buying it, he would tell him the truth: he’d need it for hunting. Of course, not the wild game the proprietor undoubtedly had in mind, Brian would need it strictly for the two-legged kind. He knew how to handle a knife but his skill with a gun was questionable at best. Guns would need a silencer; a knife was the quietest weapon ever made.

At last it was his turn to be served. “How may I help you, sir?” said the salesman with a smile. There was nothing about the clean-cut young man standing in front of him that raised any alarm bells.

Returning the smile, Brian told him what he wanted.

Back in his room, Brian hurriedly locked the door behind him. He took the bag the held the knife and sat on his bed. His hands shook as he ran his thumb over the tang, testing its sharpness. He hastily withdrew it when he saw that he’d drawn blood.

“Goddamn, you’re sharp,” Brian said with admiration. He sucked his thumb until the bleeding stopped. He mentally congratulated himself on not succumbing to temptation and purchasing a handgun. His mouth curved up into a smile as he pondered the situation.

All he had to do to get Granger’s bitch to obey his every twisted desire would be to hold this blade against the little girl’s throat. If she was still doubtful of his intentions and resolve, a more graphic demonstration might be needed. In that case, he would slowly drag the knife blade across the kid’s throat hard enough to draw blood—only a drop or two would be sufficient to show her he meant business. Seeing that he was perfectly willing to follow through, she would do whatever he wanted to her if only he swear not to harm the girl...

He’d lock the kid in her room and fuck Granger’s wife in all of her pretty little holes. His revenge would be complete. Just as Granger fucked him over, so Brian would do to his wife.
He’d degrade her even further by making her come, increasing her humiliation and sense of shame. After he was done, while he was still inside her, he’d whisper in her ear that if she so much as breathed a hint to Granger of what he’d done, he would return and repeat the process only this time, he’d make her watch as he raped the little girl into unconsciousness before her very eyes.

An idea flooded through Brian’s brain so sharply and clearly that he sat up and pondered it. Why should his revenge against Granger be limited to raping his wife? Why not tape the encounter and threaten to broadcast it over the Internet? As Brian had no steady source of income yet, what was preventing him from demanding money in return for his silence? As an added twist, after he’d gotten everything out of her that he wanted, he’d show it anyway.

A tape of a respected and decorated cop’s wife caught having sex on YouTube would ensure Granger’s career would be ruined. His wife would be humiliated; with any luck, she’d be suicidal from shame and grief. Even the child would be affected—her classmates would call her names behind her back and her teachers would whisper amongst each other when she passed by.

Brian picked apart the idea from every angle, looking for loopholes but could find none. It was so fucking perfect! Brian rubbed his hands together with glee. And speaking of fucking, he’d dawdled in his shabby room with its four grey walls and peeling wallpaper long enough.

Even though he didn’t really need to, Brian took another shower. He dressed in the best of his clothes and after stuffing a few bills in his pocket, he left his room. He would fill his belly first before going in search of some pussy. Two years without a decent meal had been hard enough but for a young man barely out of his teens, two years without a woman was torture.

Tomorrow he would start planning his revenge. However, tonight, all his thoughts and energies would be concentrated on getting some pussy. The thought of that put a spring in Brian's step that hadn't been there in far too long.