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Anger and hatred made my world spin. My hands, clenched into fists, shook in an effort to keep them from slamming the door open and rushing at the man, punching and punching until his blood stained my hands and he was no longer able to kiss again.

But as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t do that. Rebecca was obviously being brainwashed by this man, influenced into believing that she loved him. In this state, killing the man may cause her distress, and she may be too disoriented to allow him to explain the conspiracy that was being set against her.

And like that, the anger was gone, replaced instead with a wave of understanding. My anger had given way to an epiphany: the man must be killed. But not in the presence of Rebecca, no; she had to be made to understand first. If she did not see the truth, then she may never accept that somehow they were conspiring against us.

I would wait. I would follow the man, see where he works. Hell, maybe he’ll even meet with one of his conspirators, and I could follow the path to their leader, the one so hell-bent on my destruction. And then I will kill him. In the mean time, I’ll have to find a place to lay low. I couldn’t stay here all night, much as I wanted to. They might be watching.

I started the truck and casually drove away. I wandered around the town under I came across a gun store. There, I bought a handgun and a box of bullets. That should be more than enough to get the job done.

I drove back to the house. By then, night had fallen, bathing the sky in darkness. The moon had gone in hiding tonight, and the only light in the night came from the streetlights and inner glow of the homes around me. The light flowed through into the street, burning as bright as possible while the moons oppressive light did not hinder theirs.

I parked the truck, but was careful this time as to where I parked it. There was a home for rent only three houses away from Rebecca’s. I parked the truck in the empty home’s driveway. Shutting off the truck’s engine, I stepped out into the yard and uprooted the ‘For Rent’ sign. Knocking the clotted dirt from the bottom of the stake by hitting it against my boot, I threw it into the truck’s bed. That should keep suspicions away from the truck. I opened passenger’s door and pulled an old red toolbox from beneath the seat.

Unclasping the lid, I opened it and rummaged through the contents until I found a roll of duct tape. I shut the box, returned it to its place beneath the seat, and closed the door. I looked around to make sure there was no one was out for a late stroll or walking their dog. Convinced that the street was empty, I walked around to the back of the house and jumped the short fence to the back yard, taking with me the tape and the bag from the gun store.

The back door was wood with an exterior screen door. The door had a single, large window on it. While I was hoping for the standard design of several small rectangular windows put together to form one big window, it was better than no window at all. It was easier to quietly break one small window.

I stretched out the tape and started to cover the window from one side of the frame to the other in even, long strips, overlapping them slightly. Once the whole pane was completely covered, I drove my elbow against the glass. I heard it break, but the pieces did not fall noisily to the floor. Gripping the top of the tape strips with my fingers, I pulled the strips down as one sheet, and the glass came away with it. Quietly, I pulled it free and set it on the ground. I reached inside, undid the lock, and stepped inside.