As the Dawn Breaks
Read As the Dawn Breaks Online
Authors: Erin Noelle
| As the Dawn Breaks |
| Erin Noelle |
| (2014) |
Contents
As the Dawn Breaks
© 2014 Erin Noelle
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, is entirely coincidental.
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Cover Photography: Toski Covey
Cover Design: by Hang Le
Editing by Kayla Robichaux and Mandi Gibala
Formatting by Kassi Cooper
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SILENT ON THE COOL
, brown leather couch in Green’s home office, I anxiously wait for him to enter. The light of dawn breaks through the single window in the dark room, and shortly thereafter, the shrill ringing of his alarm clock follows. I hear him get up and move around, then the sound of the shower. I’m growing impatient. I want this done.
Nearly thirty minutes later, he waltzes into the room in his navy bathrobe, completely unaware of my presence. The mere sight of him disgusts me, and instantly, I reach for the 35mm stowed in my jacket with my gloved right hand. As much as I want to end it right now, I need to follow the plan I’ve spent so many hours devising. I can’t afford to fuck this up.
Still oblivious I’m in the room, he plops down in his massive desk chair and turns the reading lamp on.
“Good morning, Robert,” I greet him, my voice laced with malice. His body jolts with terror and his eyes scan the room, searching for the bringer of his demise. The moment he sees me, he stiffens and begins to reach down under his desk.
Lifting the gun, I point it directly at his head. “Hands on top of the desk. Now.”
He obeys my command, his fingers trembling against the papers strewn atop the wooden surface.
Good. I hope he’s got piss running down his leg too.
Standing up, I stalk over to him like a predator approaching its prey, with only one thought in mind—death.
“Leo, you don’t want to do this. You’re not thinking clearly. I’ll give Katrina whatever she wants. Please,” he pleads, his stare locked on the barrel of my gun.
“Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” I spit. “You got one out of three right. I
do
want to do this. I
am
thinking clearly. And, your one correct answer—you
will
give her exactly what she wants.”
Once I’m standing directly next to him with the gun pointed straight at his temple, I continue, “I’m feeling generous today, Governor Green. I’m actually going to give you the option of how this will all play out. Option one: you write a letter explaining you can no longer live with the guilt you feel over murdering your first wife and ruining your daughter’s life, and then you shoot yourself in the head. Option two: I tie you up and gag you while we wait for your wife and son to get home, which I believe is in just a couple of hours, and then you can watch me have my way with her before I kill all three of you.”
“There’s no way you’ll go through with it,” he challenges me, but his shaky voice betrays him.
The pounding of my heart echoes loudly in my ears, and I remind myself to breathe. I will not allow him to call my bluff. Pressing the cold metal firmly against his temple, I clear my throat. “Think again, asshole. You remember Principal Mathews, the one you were paying to keep tabs on your daughter? Let’s just say he had a surprise waiting for him in his evening cocktail last night. The school system will need to fill that position before the fall semester begins.”
His jaw clenches and his hands tighten into fists. Leaning down close to his face, an evil laugh escapes my throat. “If you want to know my preference, I’m leaning towards option two. I really want to know how your wife’s tight cunt feels in comparison to your daughter’s—”
“Fuck you!” he exclaims, slamming his palms down on the desk as he tries to stand up.
I dig the gun further into the side of his head, pushing him back into his chair. “Choose. Now.”
Closing his eyes, he inhales a deep breath. “Option one,” he cracks.
“How noble of you,” I reply, my voice thick with sarcasm. “Now, you’re going to write out the letter exactly as I say, and then you’re going to retrieve the gun you’ve got in the bottom drawer of your desk—yes, I know it’s in there—and make this quick. My generosity is beginning to dwindle.”
Ten minutes later, I text Travis to let him know I need the surveillance cameras to be turned off again. Slipping out the alternate side door I let myself in through, I leave his lifeless body slumped over a suicide note on the desk and a growing pool of blood. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I quickly make my way through the hallway. I know I’ve got roughly three-to-four minutes to get out of the building before being detected. I check my watch; my flight leaves in an hour and a half, and I think to myself that the entire morning couldn’t have gone any more smoothly. This time tomorrow, I’ll be digging my toes into warm sand while staring out over picturesque waters, and Katrina will finally be able to move on with her life.
Mission fucking accomplished.
ONE COULDN’T ASK FOR A
more ideal day to get married. Perfectly placed white wisps adorn the early evening sky that’s beginning to shift from cerulean blue to a deep shade of amethyst. The sea breeze flows through the southern Florida town at the precise moment the heat from the July sun becomes a little too stifling, encouraging an all-embracing tranquility and relaxation for the body and soul, which is essential for me before seeing
her
.
After over two years in hiding on a miniscule island nestled in the teal waters of the Adriatic Sea, I’ve flown halfway across the globe to watch the love of my life marry the love of hers. Most would assume this day would be full of sorrow and misery for me, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Seeing Katrina Foster get the happily-ever-after she always assumed she’d never have fills my heart with untainted joy. The fact I get to be a part of it brings me an awe-inspiring sense of fulfillment.
She has no idea I’m here, much less that I’ll be the one walking her down the aisle. It’s been difficult not to contact her since I landed in town a couple of days ago, but Lucca and I both agree the surprise factor of me appearing just before the ceremony will be unsurpassed. To say I’m crazy excited to see her after all this time is the understatement of the century. There are no words in the English language—or in any language, for that matter—that can accurately express the overwhelming, soul-crushing devastation I felt after leaving her.
Desperately alone in a country where I knew not a single person and didn’t speak the native tongue, I struggled months upon end to be able to make it through a day without breaking down. Call me weak…call me a pussy…take my fucking man-card—I don’t give a shit; if you’ve ever truly loved someone and willingly walked away from that person, only then can you understand the shattered pile of ruin my heart was in. But slowly—and boy, do I mean excruciatingly slowly—did I pull myself up from the despair and desolation, and found my will to live again. Now, seven hundred and fifteen days later, I get to see my Katie-bug again. However, this time, it won’t be her wearing that ridiculous swimming cap and goofy goggles on her head like she did as a child, nor will it be her dressed like a seductress of the night in a garter belt and stiletto heels, but instead, in a white wedding gown as flawless and pure as the tendrils of clouds gliding above.