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    The Ranch
    The Ranch
    The Ranch
    Ebook172 pages2 hours

    The Ranch

    By Erin Lee and Chelsi Davis

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Every business starts with a market and a need.

    It was obvious when Heather got out of a quick stint in county lock-up that there was a need for someone to give karma a little shove in the right direction.

    We’ve all been there. We know the pain of moving on. But what if, Heather and Suzie wondered, moving on could be pain—guaranteed—for the ones who’d hurt them?

    Welcome to The Ranch:

    A place where clients are encouraged to order justice ala carte. Torture by the stripping of fingernails? That will cost you $100 a nail. Maybe, if you’re a repeat customer, set on a two-for-one, we’ll give you a deal. It will be worth it. We promise. Because moving on? Well that’s painful…

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherErin Lee
    Release dateOct 13, 2017
    ISBN9781386079729
    The Ranch
    Author

    Erin Lee

    Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

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      Book preview

      The Ranch - Erin Lee

      For all the crazy bitches out there who have seen the market and the need.

      We salute you.

      This one’s on us.

      THE RANCH

      Chapter One

      Suzie

      The darkness has a smell. Have you ever noticed that? It’s true: Walking into a dark room, has a different smell than a happy, well lit room. I love that smell—the blood, tears, and vomit. It reminds me of rotten eggs and onions, but somehow sweeter. It’s that mixing of bodily fluids that burns my nostrils and tells me justice is on the horizon. And that’s really all I need to know.

      The barn door creaks on its hinges as if it’s been years since the door has budged, not a few short weeks. Pulling the string for a little light, I shield my eyes from the dust that threatens to cloud my mood. Breathing deep, I scan my play room for how I am going to proceed for this next job on my list. Today is different. This isn’t for a client. This isn’t a contract like the others. This is personal. This is for me.

      Walking back toward the back corner, my play thing is still sleeping in the cage I put her in. I picked her up as she was leaving work the other day. Amazing how quick a person can be to get into a car with their lover’s wife. Silly little girl. Hasn’t she heard? You never mess with a woman scorned.

      I pull the garage door down over the barn doors, with an even louder shrill squeak, and my project begins to squirm around in her cage. The windows are blacked out so no one can see in, and everything is sound proofed in here. We made sure of that when Heather and I first went into business together. The only thing linking me and my latest toy to the outside is a small intercom that can be used from the barn to the house in case Heather needs me while I am out here. She usually knows better than to bother me when I am working on my projects, but in case of an emergency, or a client with a lot of money needing something done fast, she can reach me this way. Heather likes to work as a team; she says it makes our work more effective. I’m not so sure about that. I prefer to work alone. There are other times, though, when I do enjoy working with her. Those are the times when someone really deserves something at the top of the menu. It’s all a matter of pay and procedure.

      The blue tarp makes a loud noise as I shake it out over my table, causing her to stir a little more. The drugs I gave her should be starting to wear off any minute and then the real fun can begin. As I check that the straps are in place to hold her down, I tell my phone to play some music. I need my head clear and focused, and The Sound of Silence is my go-to way to get into the zone. In the end, when all of this is done, silence is the best sound in the entire world. It means I’ve succeeded in my work.

      Bringing my light box and bag of critters over to the table, I begin to put everything in its place. This won’t be quick or painless, for that matter. It’s sick and twisted, and I will love every single second of it. I would say the next time Mackenzie Allen decides to flirt with a married man, she’ll think twice, but unfortunately for her, there won’t be a second time. A soft whisper in the corner gets my attention over the music because I can’t keep my eyes off of her – this thing my husband has thrown away our life for. As I turn the music down I look over to Mackenzie huddled in a puddle of her own piss with tears streaming down her face. I love it when they get so scared they lose control of their bladder. How embarrassing it must be to piss yourself as a grown-ass woman.

      I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you over there. What’d you say? I ask with a smirk.

      I-I said...why a-a-are you doing this?

      I stare for a moment, wondering if she’s always had this lame-assed stutter, or if she’s decided she can’t play with the big girls anymore. Probably both.

      Well, sweetheart, you wanted to make big girl choices. You saw a man with a ring on his finger and pictures of his five children and wife all over his desk, and you decided that didn’t matter. 

      I can feel my heart start to pound out of my chest as I relive everything that was done to me because of this bitch. Jealousy and rage truly are some amazing motivators.  She needs to feel them. I need her to experience the dread in her gut of knowing that her entire world is about to be over at the hands of another person. I want her to feel every single second of that dread and heartbreak the way I did when she decided to fuck my husband. I can’t even think about it: All the what if’s and should haves up in smoke because of a choice that someone else made. I am up against her cage now, holding onto the bars as I make direct eye contact when I say these next words.

      You see, Mackenzie, when you decided it was appropriate to throw yourself at a married man you worked with, you crossed too many lines. Lines that were put in place for a reason. Karma...it’s a real thing, and you’ve just met yours. Hi, bitch. My name is Suzie.

      Her loud sobs shake her entire body. I can barely understand what she is saying at this point, which makes it that much more entertaining for me.

      We only kissed, she hiccups over her sobs trying to explain herself. I swear Suzie, he loves you. It was a momentary lapse in judgement. He was upset; you guys were fighting.

      Shut up you dumb whore; you have no idea what you’re talking about. You think he was prince charming to me all the damn time? Hell no. Yet, I stayed faithful to that prick. I say sternly as I slap duct tape over her mouth. I watch her body heave as she begins to comprehend to some extent what is happening. She will never guess or comprehend what is truly about to happen. Turning my music back on as loud as it will go, I pull her by her dingy, lifeless, mouse brown hair over to my table. As she sees the restraints and starts to resist, I yank harder.

      You’re getting on that table one way or another. You can get up there on your own accord, or I can pull your hair out chunk by chunk until you’re up there.

      Whimpering, she uses the stepstool to climb up the wood table and sits there with pleading, panicked eyes.

      Silly girl. You had so much life ahead of you. All you had to do was find a single boy your age, and instead you entertained someone else’s husband. I do this for a living, dear. You really did pick the wrong husband, I explain as I shove her backward with a blade to her face. She is smart and lays back to avoid being stabbed in the face. Not that it will matter in a few minutes anyway.

      While I’m locking down every restraint, she thrashes her head, trying to escape as tears stream down her cheeks. Cry sweetheart.  Cry like I did the night you ruined my marriage.

      Opening the bottom of my light box, I lift up her shirt and place the box on top of her stomach causing her to thrash around more. Shhhh. It’s okay. You’ll only feel it for a couple hours or so. Depends on how hungry my friends are, and how long you can tolerate the pain of something eating away at your insides like you did to me for so long.

      The bottom of the heat box sits open and raised due to the small nails I placed in the bottom to hold everything in place on her belly. While I open the top and place the light bulb in, I press the bottom of the box down as far as I can, causing her to scream as loud as she can with the tape over her mouth. The box is secure. Not enough to kill her yet, but enough that I am sure she’s in some pain. Ripping off the tape from her mouth, I lean down as close as I can to her ear.

      "You’re going to feel it. You’re going to feel every last gut-gnawing pain and instinct I ignored the night my husband was with you. You’re going to feel every stomach-churning thought like I felt for months when I knew something wasn’t right. You’ll feel it all, until you don’t. Just like I did. You killed my soul when you tried to take him from me, and in return, I am taking yours."

      The sobs grow louder and louder and become my fuel. I hit repeat on my song, and crank the surround sound up as loud as it will allow.

      "No one can hear you. No one will ever hear you again."

      I drop the four large rats into the box and close the lid. The light bulb heat will start off slow, but continue to increase, causing my little friends to burrow through her stomach. Hopefully, she will bleed out, or they’ll hit a vital organ. I’m not in the medical field though, so when I tire of watching them, I’ll just finish her off. Sitting next to the table it is truly fascinating to watch as they start to squeak and dig through her flesh. The screams are never-ending, but I can barely hear them over the speakers. Blood begins to seep through as they break skin, and one fella in the back corner of the box actually has about half his head in her stomach already. No longer hearing her, or the rats, or the music, I am completely transfixed as these creatures ravage her. It reminds me of watching the fireworks with my husband and kids last Fourth of July, before this stupid bitch. No. Not that. It reminds me of the time the septic system bubbled over and Grant didn’t bother to fix it for weeks.

      Finally, after some time has passed, the song no longer repeats, the screaming ends, and all that remains are squeaks and gurgles. Pulling out my knife, I look at her face one last time. She isn’t even all that attractive. Her hair is gross; her teeth aren’t even white. They look like she brushes them with mustard. She’s certainly not skinny, and by the pictures she plasters all over social media, she thinks she’s way better looking than she actually is. Fucking filters. I am not sure why my husband felt the need to go for someone like her when he had me, but I am positive that mistake won’t be repeated.

      I stick my knife into one side of her throat and push down just enough to see blood. Dragging the blade from one side to the other, what little life that was left, drains out of her. I exhale my relief. She felt everything I did, and then some. I have zero sympathy. The only person she has to blame is herself. Taking a deep breath to absorb all of the smells, I truly enjoy every second of the sound of silence.

      THE RANCH

      Chapter Two

      Heather

      I get it. Or, I’m trying too. Still, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to go right out there and grab Suzie by the hair. She’s fucking with our business. And I don’t like it, not one little bit. I should have figured out a long time ago; it’s just the way she is. Perks of being the Homecoming Queen, I guess. When you’re pretty like Suzie—naturally blonde with flawless skin—you get used to getting your way. For me, it was harder. And it’s probably exactly when I’m sitting in here, on this God-forsaken ranch, taking freaking orders.

      Nothing’s changed. All these years, and I’m still pretty much in the same place. I’ve always been Suzie’s number one fan, her cheerleader. I was the friend who went with her on double dates before her parents allowed her to be alone with a guy. I was the friend the guy she was with tossed twenty bucks at to get lost for the night. I was the one she called from college parties to come pick her up when she was too drunk to drive. Even now, I wait by a stupid intercom for her to fuck up. And she will. Suzie always does. She just doesn’t think.

      The truth is that I’m as much a victim of hers as any of our play things. No, before you think it, I’m not gay. It’s just Suzie I’m obsessed with, and I don’t get it either. Her smile is contagious. It gets biggest after we’d administered a top-shelf menu item—a batch of karma ala carte, if you will. I’ll get to the menu later. I know the fucking thing by heart.

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