By Kortpeel

I stood at the edge of the sea after my early morning swim. A thin dawn mist blended the blue of the sky into the blue of the sea so there was no horizon. The air was still. Tiny waves nibbled across my toes and tall palm trees were motionless, waiting patiently for a breeze to start them swaying. White sandy beach stretched into the distance of both sides. I could already feel the warmth of the sun and appreciated the cooling effect as the sea water dried from my naked body

It was too beautiful to be real, too calm and peaceful to be true.

That kid was the only thing to mar the moment She looked about 7 or so. She had long fair hair and blue eyes. She would have been pretty except for the ugly wound on her forehead and other facial bruising. She’d been following me around for some time now, always wearing that same torn blue dress. She was playing on the sand a few yards away from me. Every now and then she’d look up and give me that reproachful stare of hers. Her name was Francesca. We both knew that there was nothing I could do for her. I tried to ignore her.

I turned to make my way back to the cabin but I saw Jennifer coming down to the beach. She too was naked. I thought that was a nice touch.

Jennifer was the best thing that ever happened to me; a stroke of such incredible good fortune that even now, after three months of marriage, I can scarcely believe it’s for real.

I watched her approach, savouring that beautiful body with the perfect breasts and the oh so lovely curve around the hips. The absence of pubic hair drew attention to the ultimate pleasure centre. Could this divine creature actually be my wife?

She was carrying a basket. Presumably for a picnic on the beach. My swim had given me an appetite and breakfast on the beach seemed a fine idea.

“Look,” she said. “Did you know there was such a thing as a breakfast wine? I found it the wine cellar.”

Raiding the wine cellar was part of the deal with the cabin we’d rented for this short one week tropic island holiday. Jennifer looked so pleased with her find that I loved her even more.

Damn but I still couldn’t believe my luck. I’d been in prison and was coming up for parole when we met. Jennifer was doing prison visiting as part of a community service sentence for some minor offence she’d been found guilty of. According to her, visiting dangerous men behind bars was a lot more exciting than scrubbing lavatories.

I’d done eleven years of a fifteen year sentence and had behaved myself. For some reason she seemed to take a special interest in me during her visiting times. The screws took the view that because she was there as a result of a conviction she was one of their charges and allowed her a near-inmate status during her visits. The other inmates, all violent thugs, yelled and cat-called when they saw her. She handled it with a wave and a smile. They loved her for it.. Our relationship developed over the several months before I was paroled.. I proposed to her and she, to my astonishment, accepted.

We were married at a small private ceremony a week after my release. I’d been on computer courses in prison and I quite easily got work. It didn’t pay well, I knew I was cheap labour but I was developing my skills and gaining experience and it was keeping me out of mischief. I don’t need to do crime any more and I certainly don’t want to go back inside to hell again.

What I do want is to stay married to Jennifer, have two kids and live the normal family life that I’ve never known. I was an orphan and fostered out. A few foster homes do it because they just like kids. Most of ‘em do it for the money. Maybe I was just unlucky.

I dropped out of school and took to crime in my teens. I was street wise and without scruple. I even prided myself on my ruthlessness. My role models in those days were from a book I’d once read: Nazi concentration camp officers who would listen to Wagner while they murdered their charges. That struck me as real class.

Jennifer’s bacon sandwiches weren’t particularly classy but they sure tasted good. I washed them down with her breakfast wine and, feeling drowsy, stretched out on the towel.

I watched Jennifer as she walked to the water’s edge and got her feet wet. “It’s lovely,” she said. “Come in with me.”

I made to follow her but found I was unable to move. I was having trouble breathing and didn’t have enough air in my lungs to call out. A stroke? Heart attack? Dammit what was this?

Jennifer came back and pulled me by my feet into the water. She stopped with the sea at my neck. She must have realised something was wrong

“Stroke,” I uttered.

She ran back to her picnic basket. I thought to get something. I couldn’t turn my head to follow her. She knelt by me, took my prick in her hand and fondled it. It spite of everything it rose to the occasion. Well, at least that part of me was working.

“No darling. It’s not a stroke you’ve been drugged.”

My lack of understanding showed on my face.

“It’s pay back time sweetheart.”

I was still puzzled but not so anxious. A drug would wear off. Presumably Jennifer was playing some kind of game with me. I decided I’d go along with it.

“Twenty years ago you raped my little sister. Then, not content with ruining her life, you decided to end it. You pushed her out in front of a car and killed her.”

I’d never been able to suppress that memory. The anguish would suddenly return and pull me, sweating, out of deep sleep. It had happened back in the days when I wanted to be ruthless. I realised I was just a normal man with humane instincts that I couldn’t override. I so bitterly regretted what I’d done. There were times when I thought of topping myself but I knew that that would be wrong too.

There was a knife in her hand. Jennifer held it so that I would see it. She pulled at my cluster the knife flashed. It must have been razor sharp. My severed prick and balls were in her hand. I was too surprised to be scared. For a second or two there was nothing. Then the blood began to spurt out. The motor nerves were paralysed but the sensory nerves were working fine. The pain started but I was unable to scream.

“That was for the rape you bastard. The next part is for killing her.”

Jennifer pulled me out into deeper water. Then she swam, pushing me out into the off shore current. After a while I realised she had left me to drift and returned to shore. My mind was muzzy from loss of blood . I saw Francesca beside me and knew who she was. “I am so sorry,” I said to her.

She smiled. I was pleased that her wounds and bruises were healed. The sea was warm and calm. The world was peaceful. It was all so perfect. Peace of mind, at last.

End