Beyond Hell and Back Ch. 02

Holly couldn't believe what she had just heard. She found herself abruptly seeing several different shades of red. She blinked a few times, raising a single finger. "You mean to tell me..." she began, "...that all this time...you've been putting your life at risk, going to a 7-11 in an extremely dangerous area..." Her voice shot up again. "...for cigarettes?!"

Rachel had dropped her face into her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm so so so sorry, Holly," she bawled. "I'll never do it again."

Holly stared down at her in a mixture of anger and disappointment. "That is absolutely goddamn RIGHT you'll never do it again. 'Cause that's it, Rachel."

Rachel returned her eyes to Holly's.

"Listen good to me, Rache. NO more smoking. I mean it. I haven't forgotten about your arm, but this—it's me or the cigarettes. I am no longer asking you, Rachel Millerstein, I am telling you to quit. Last chance. One more puff, and that's it, it's over between us."

Rachel nodded. "Yes ma'am. I promise," she sniffled.

"A'right, get up and get dressed. I'm taking you to the hospital."

***

May 31st, 2:31 a.m.

Back home, Rachel's arm had been iodized, tetanus-shot, bandaged and dressed in gauze. Holly helped her to bed and tucked her in.

"How you feeling? Okay?" Holly asked her, caressing her non-injured arm.

"I think so," said Rachel, riding out the last residue of her tears.

Holly nodded protectively, standing at her side. "The nurse said it's just going to be painful for a few days."

"I know. Thanks for taking me, Holly. And Holly? I'm never gonna smoke again, I swear."

"Okay," whispered Holly. "Sweet dreams, honey." She kissed Rachel's forehead, stroking her cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Aren't you coming to bed?" Rachel asked her, as Hobbie jumped up on the bed and started walking around on Rachel's legs. He made several small circles, kneaded the mattress, yawned and finally settled in to sleep, snuggled up next to Rachel's thigh.

"I'll be there later on, Rache," Holly said. "I've just gotta take care of something. Go ahead, you go to sleep with Hobbie."

"Hurry back," said Rachel. "Holly?...I love you so much."

Once she put Rachel to bed, Holly left her tender side in the bedroom. She picked up her pace, marched back out into the living room, grabbed her phone, stepped outside into the front yard, quietly closed the door and looked up the number she wanted.

Holly was by nature quite far from a vengeful, violent or vindictive person. But then again, she wasn't her harmless little 20-year-old self anymore, and no one had ever messed with the most special person in the world to her before, either. 'Seething' and 'fuming' merely aspired to describe her emotions right now. She could literally not be any more infuriated. At this moment, so much smoke was blasting from her ears, she could shoot a newborn baby. Had this been herself at the 7-11 who had gotten assaulted and stabbed in the arm, she would have taken herself to the hospital, treated it, carried a grudge for a while, and then gradually dropped it. But...

Hurt MY girl? she thought, so blindly enraged she could barely locate the number in her phone. So you wanna get nasty with MY girl, huh? Not cool. NOT...cool. WRONG lady to fuck with, bitch.

She dialed. Two rings in, the recipient of her call picked up.

Couldn't have been more than 20 years old, huh? 20, my ASS. Age didn't matter; a psycho was a psycho.

"HELL-o there..."

And based on the details and descriptions Rachel had given her, she had a pretty good feeling she could catch her.

"...yes, yes, it is Holly, actually...uh, well, as it turns out..."

Scorned was an understatement here, but hell might just have this much fury after all. Because once she was caught, this psycho was going to feel it. She had NO idea how much hell she was going to pay—literally, now that Holly had summoned The Devil.

"...I need your help, Miss Farrah."

TO BE CONCLUDED...