It was so easy to kill. The car made a deeply satisfying sound as it hit the water. The man inside, would be dead soon. Not that he would know. He was probably just waking up, thanks to the henbane. The bottle of whiskey was marked with his mouth residue, and he’d had enough shots of it to subdue him. She had grinded the flower into a fine powder before offering him a few drinks in the hotel. When they finished drinking, the man tried to undress her, but she stopped him. Let’s go somewhere wild! Let’s make it memorable. She said. He liked that idea. They brought the alcohol and she let him drink his fill. She had a few sips when he asked why she wasn’t partaking, only to swish it around and kiss it right back into his mouth. He liked that too. Then he got sleepy. Now he was dead.
Retzah retreated to her quarters smug. The man had done all the work as usual. He was overconfident and she played her role well. A ditsy blond in fishnets at a diner. A silly woman with silly dreams of a man in a suit to love her well and make her rich. Armon Roach was putty in her hands. Of course, he didn’t know she was watching him. He didn’t know she saw the way he ogled the young cheerleaders in their short uniforms. He didn’t know she was there that night in the alley. Had she not been, that poor girl would’ve been his next victim. With women’s protections gone — she would’ve been stuck raising her abuser’s child. Retzah couldn’t allow it.
So, she did what she did best. She caused a scene. Creating a Molotov cocktail she threw it into the alley, scaring Armon shitless. This gave the girl enough time to get away. Retza watched her run. Armon looked prepared to chase her until he saw Retzah. She was walking into the alley with her fishnets and her short dress. Her thighs were thick and exposed. She was the perfect target. She knew it too.
“Well, well. I was just about to count this night a loss.” Armon said.
“Why? It’s such pretty night! I would love to have somewhere to be. All my friends are busy.” She said.
Armon smirked like an eel in the dark. The rest was an obituary.
Some would call Retzah a murderer, but she wasn’t always like that. She was once respectable, sweet, and kind. Now she was all venom. She’d bite the head off any man that looked in the direction of a woman without consent. Since The Darkening, she couldn’t leave them defenseless. She wasn’t the only one who thought this way. It began with abortion rights. Men began shouting; “your body, my choice.” Girls were getting felt up beneath bleachers, in alleyways, in diners. Then, divorces became illegal. When the women fought back, they were criminals. When they were silent, they were slaughtered.
Retzah’s sister, Ambrosia married a perilous man. When the laws began rolling out, he wouldn’t divorce her for her safety. She knew too late that she was screwed. He became the monster from her wildest nightmares. Ambrosia cooked for him with rat poison after he forcibly impregnated her. She and Retzah planned and plotted for two weeks before finally enacting the plan. Ambrosia wanted to beat the man to death with a pair of golf clubs. However, Retzah knew herbs. Retzah knew what you could do with just a little bit too much of something simple. The same way salt is necessary for every bodily function. However, if you ingest too much salt at one time it’ll kill you. Anything can kill you in large quantities.
The pair called in a doctor when he wasn’t doing well. The doctor ran some tests. The women released rats in the attic and flung rat poison everywhere. His symptoms were odd, but no one suggested poisoning. He had stomach cramps and a horrible fever. For about two weeks she gave him small doses in food and drinks until he was too weak to abuse her. Too weak to stay alive. When he died, she was free. The two aborted the fetus with secret measures Retzah would never give up. Then, she sent her baby sister to Thailand with the help of some people she knew.
That was when it began. Now, it had been five years. The world was different than it was then. Back then, freedom was a right. Now, it is a privilege hard earned. Retzah had murdered two hundred and seventy-five men. All the same kind. All the same oily, soulless look in their eyes. These men, desperate for attention. Desperate to feel like something. Not self-actualized enough to know everything they needed was in them. She didn’t go looking to murder. The murdered found her. Sought her out like she was a prime rib. She was quick and efficient. They never saw her coming. Retzah once dreamed of being anything else. An author. A doctor. A librarian or a coffee shop owner. Now all she dreamed of was death.
The government and the men had failed them. Retzah was doing what she had to. She would stay alive. She would keep her sisters alive. Even if it meant the men were dead. All of them. Any of them.
