2. The cruellest of men are rewarded for the foulest of deeds. A colossal mansion, a beautiful wife, stacks of money and my son. There’s no justice in the world… so I must make my own.
3. I’ve waited eighteen years for God, karma, the police, anyone to deliver justice. It’s time I took action and become the angel of justice myself. So here I am. Waiting to kill a man who deserves to die. Waiting for the correct moment to strike. I don’t know why I’m hesitating. This isn’t my first kill. It probably won’t be my last, either.
5. My blood boils and my breathing accelerates, my heart giving into the joy of the chase as I stand upright, savouring the few seconds before the bloodbath begins.
6. Too late! Too late! The angel of justice takes her revenge.
7. This is always the worst part. Blinding, unpredictable rage. Stab. Stab. Stab.
8. This is my favourite part. Watching their spirit pass to the other side, watching their life fade away. Angel of Justice, Olive Specter.
9. I’m lost in my dreams. I’m always so calm and collected after killing. My reverie is interrupted by a wail. Quiet, but childlike and full of fear.
10. My son has heard everything. Probably even seen some of it. I can’t jump into his cell and expect him to run away with a killer. I have to go. One day soon, I will return for him.
11. The police might not care about me and my row with social services, but they care about murder. And they’ll ask questions. They’ll find out the truth. I have saved my son.
