The Seven Deadly Sins: Rage

Arriving at the target address, he parked three doors down and walked casually past the duplex apartment. All the lights were on. He snuck back, leapt the fence and peered into the lounge. What greeted him was a scene of domestic bliss. The happy couple were snuggled on the couch, empty pizza box on the coffee table, watching a movie. From his vantage point, Dave watched for another hour and a half until Stewart removed his arm from around Lisa's shoulder and slipped his hand down the front of her pants. Lisa squirmed briefly before turning to give her lover a kiss. After a further five minutes, they both retired to the bedroom after turning the lights off.

Dave gave them a further twenty minutes, then crept to the darkened porch. He selected the shiny new key and tried it in the lock. The lock turned easily. As silent as the grave, Dave crept in. There really was no need. For the third time that evening, Dave was treated to the sounds of Stewart screwing his loving wife. Presumably, because this time they had no need to impress, they were much quieter.

Shielding the torch beam with the fingers of one hand, Dave looked around. What he saw was a standard apartment. Large lounge, small kitchenette, laundry, and one bedroom. The door to the bedroom was closed. Lisa could never sleep with the door open. The camera was on the kitchen table, still in its carry case. With gloved hands, Dave removed the camera from its case, opened it and removed the sim card. That was the extent of his planning thus far. Threat removed, he stood there wondering what to do next. He really wanted to go in and damage them. It was amongst the hardest things he'd ever done to force himself back to the door.

As he crept toward it in the dim light, he spotted something he hadn't previously seen. Something recognisable but out of place. It was an insulated box with, 'Priority Medical Sample' printed on the side. Dave picked it up and opened it. It was empty, aside from the cooler pack which was still cold to the touch. With mounting suspicion, Dave quietly walked back to the kitchen and opened the fridge. What he saw on the top shelf were the tools of his trade. All of a sudden, one of the things Lisa had said, that at the time confused him, made perfect sense. It was true, she was getting something from Stewart that she couldn't get from her husband. Something she didn't need but desperately thought she did. The sight brought an evil smile to Dave's face. This was quickly followed by the makings of a plan. He picked up two of the four syringes in the small padded box and read the labels.

Letting himself out quietly, Dave drove to work and parked in the back corner of the car park. He spent the two hours waiting for the contracted security service round, spotting all the external cameras. After the lone security guard drove up, did a lap of the building, trying the doors before leaving, Dave made his move.

Letting himself into the building, he quickly went into the room that contained the central storage fridge and removed a preloaded syringe. After checking the label, he put it in a padded box, which he slipped into his pocket. Entering the lab next door, he picked up a mask and slipped it in another pocket. After that, he searched the dangerous goods cupboard and pocketed a small glass bottle. With his main objective complete, he removed the sim card from his pocket and inserted it in his own computer. He erased all the photo files, then refilled it with junk from the internet and erased it again. He repeated that seven times before pocketing the sim again.

Careful to check the coast was clear, he exited the building and drove back to Stewart's house. Carefully entering the now silent apartment, he quietly replaced the sim card in the camera and moved to the fridge. He removed the padded bag and laid the contents out on the table. Putting on the mask, he removed the cap of one of the three identical syringes and squirted it straight down the drain in the sink. He re-filled the now empty injector with the contents of the one he'd brought. He then chose the unique syringe and emptied this into the padded box he'd brought with him. With extreme care, he re-filled it from the small glass bottle. Carefully putting everything back just how he'd found it, he beat a silent retreat and drove home, stopping only to dump the empty syringe and box in a dumpster.

Leaving all the lights off, Dave made himself a snack and interrogated his conscience. Had he contravened his Hippocratic Oath? Shit, no. He hadn't hurt a flea. He spent an hour quietly running over all the possible scenarios in his head and searching for one solution to counter the bulk of them. At midnight he went to his marital bed and slept.

Anyone watching his behaviour the next morning would have been really confused. Firstly, he wrapped one of the discarded ends of the cut tethers around his right wrist, after securing the other end to the bedpost and pulled really hard until he could no longer stand the pain before examining the resultant bruising. Nodding his satisfaction, he re-secured the strap to one of the smaller uprights on the bedhead. It took all the strength of both his arms and his feet braced against the wall to finally snap the upright. Satisfied with his work, Dave finally relieved his bladder in the centre of the bed.

At 9.23a.m., Dave rang the police and sat back practicing his lines. The police that came around listened to his story in mounting disbelief. He was fairly convincing. After all, most of it was the truth. He explained how he had come home and caught his wife in bed with Stewart. How they had stunned and chemically knocked him out. How they had performed lewd sexual acts, both on him and beside him, before leaving him tied up all night. It was only in desperation that he'd summoned the strength that morning to resist the pain of breaking the bedpost by force. He showed them the bottle of ether, the stun gun, the bed, and the urine stain on the sheets, marvelling once again on the conspirator's confidence in their plan, that they'd made no attempt to cover their tracks.

Forensics were called. The ether bottle and stun gun were bagged and the sheets tested for semen samples. Swabs were made. The senior man suggested Dave get his wrist checked out but relented when Dave explained he was a doctor. When questioned about their possible motive, Dave told of Lisa's long requested fantasy of humiliating him. A request he had strenuously resisted.

The first indication that all was not well in Toy Town, was when Lisa's mother rang Dave asking why she'd been asked to bail her daughter out. Dave gave the same story he'd given the police. The sincerity in his voice was so convincing, that her mother actually apologised for her daughter's behaviour, saying his story was slightly different to Lisa's, 'It was all a misunderstanding.'

Three more phone calls, two from Lisa's siblings and one from a friend demonstrated to Dave that news was spreading nicely. Lisa's emotional support network was rapidly being dismantled and he now had justification to withdraw all support for her. That was the point, after all. He knew that with all the evidence being circumstantial and two testimonies against one, the police investigation was unlikely to go anywhere.

He kind of figured his wife had been bailed, when the phone rang.

"Your ass is toast, you dumb shit..."

He hung up. The phone rang hot all afternoon. Several friends, and some of Lisa's family, took him up on his invitation to visit the crime scene to make their own judgement.

Lisa rang in a much more rational voice late that night. If he agreed to drop the charges and give her a no-fault divorce and 70% of their assets, she would graciously not release the photographs. Dave simply said, "No thanks," and hung up on her again. He vaguely wondered how she was justifying the loss of the photos to herself. I mean, it wasn't as if they hadn't checked them after they took them.

Lisa kicked herself after putting the phone down. Cursing that she appeared to have accidentally pressed 'delete all' when she'd meant to delete individual ones. She fully expected Dave to cave in to her conciliatory gesture. Apart from bluffing, she couldn't see any way forwards. Dave would never fall for the same trick twice, plus they'd lost the ether now. She'd been rattled by Dave's response; after all, he didn't know she didn't hold all the cards still. Why the defiance? Christ, she wished she still had the photos. She would have enjoyed breaking him. Watching him collapse, until the only option was for him to slink off and hide in a deep dark hole.

Angry and in need of a shoulder to cry on, she rang her friend, Jane. No one picked up.

Just after she hung up that call, her cell rang with her dad's ring tone. Lisa took a deep breath. "Let the spin commence," she said to herself. Even without the photos she could create havoc.

"Hi, Pop."

"Lisa. What is this crap Dave tells me about you drugging him, tying him up, making him watch you screw some guy, then leaving him tied to the bed all night? The poor guy had to piss in the bed, for fuck's sake."

Lisa's fiery temper took over.

"I did not leave him tied up. I cut him loose before...shit!"

She managed to stop herself, then realised she had some damage control to do.

"Look, Pop, I didn't want to tell anyone this. Dave wanted me to tie him up and humiliate him, okay. He said it was something he got off on. Half-way through he changed his mind and asked us to leave and we did. I cut him loose before leaving, honest. I have no idea why the police came around. Dave won't talk to me; he keeps hanging up."

"Well, I've just come back from his place and it certainly didn't look like you cut him loose. It certainly looked like a broken bed that smelt like piss to me. I rang my mate Ralph at the station and he confirmed they'd found the drugs you'd knocked him out with and a fucking stun gun for Christ's sake. Now you're lying to me, Lisa. That's just the crowning turd in the water pipe. Look, I ignored all the rumours that you were a complete slut in school. Now I know they were all true. Don't ask your mother or I to help your slut arse out anymore. If I have my way, your mum won't be speaking to you ever again."

"Daddy, no..."

But he was gone.

Desperate to retain some of her support network, Lisa frantically rang the rest of her family, her friends, and Dave's and her mutual friends. She wanted to get in first. The ones that did actually pick up, let her know their feelings, which in their entirety, weren't good. All the damage had been done while she was 'helping the police with their enquiries'. She appeared to have only one friend left in the world and he was sitting on his couch playing video games, seemingly totally oblivious of her suffering. Unbidden, the words of the old Julie Brown song came into her head, 'I like 'em big and stupid'.

As she walked to the bathroom, she couldn't help thinking what changes had occurred in the last twenty-four hours. She'd swapped a five-star meal ticket with a man, that while being slightly dorky, worshipped the ground she walked on. For what? The moron from outer space. Shit, she'd be lucky to get 50%. In fact, unless she could beat this shit that Dave had laid on her, she might be lucky even to get that. One thing was certain, though. Dave was going to pay for this.

Once in the bathroom she made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Instead of the good-looking, vibrant, full-chested thirty-three-year old that everyone else saw, she saw more a reflection of her deep hidden self-opinion. A vision from almost twenty years previously. Flat-chested, plain-faced, thin-lipped unattractiveness.

On the way back to the lounge a sudden revelation struck her.

"Stew, honey. You've got some disreputable friends. Do you know any that could make my darling hubby disappear?"

Stewart abruptly took his eyes off the game.

"What?"

"Think about it, Stew. If Dave was to suddenly, well, die, we'd get everything, wouldn't we? The houses, the bank accounts, and even his insurance. He's worth two million on that."

Stewart looked at Lisa in a new light.

"You want to get Dave whacked?"

"Yes, honey. Do you know anyone that could do that?"

"No. But I know someone that might. I'll make a couple of phone calls."

He stood up.

Lisa smiled. She knew that once more she was in control. She stepped into Stewart's arms.

"Later, lover. It's time to make me beautiful."

"How about we fuck first?"

"No. Wait till afterwards. I'll be beautiful then. Where do you want me?"

"Lie of the couch, with your head near that lamp."

"You're sure you know what you're doing?"

"Don't worry, babe. I've seen them do it a thousand times."

Stewart went to the fridge and retrieved the box of syringes that he thought he'd purloined, blissfully ignorant of the fact that changes had been made.

"What do you want first; face or lips?"

"Do the scary bits last, honey. Face first. How long do they last again?"

"Well, the lips will last forever, the face two to three months. Unless we can get Dave back in heel, or on ice, my job is toast and this will be the last time."

"Shit. I hadn't thought of that. Do your worst, lover boy."

Stewart retrieved one of the syringes marked 'Botox 1.0ng/kg' and proceeded to inject Lisa's brow with small amounts of bacterium Clostridium Botulinum, clinically proven to be harmless to humans, apart from minor, rare side effects. In tiny jabs, he emptied the syringe into Lisa's left brow and upper cheek.

As Stewart went to the fridge to get the second syringe, Lisa felt her face.

"Hey, it's all numb. Is that supposed to happen?"

"Yeah, that's fine, babe."

Stewart returned and continued injecting Lisa's face and jaw with Botox 1.0ng/kg still in its original packaging.

It wasn't until he began injecting the third syringe that things started going adrift, with Stewart being none the wiser. The contents of this third injector weren't what was written on the label. They were, though, written on a now empty syringe in a dumpster far away. That label read Botox 10ng/kg. This stronger form of bacterium Clostridium Botulinum, had its cosmetic uses as well, but only in patients that had a strong immunity to lower doses of the bacteria already. Blithely, Stewart injected Lisa with a substance that has been described as the most acutely lethal toxin known to man. Well before this third syringe was empty, Lisa was infected with full blown Botulism.

At precisely this time, Dave was returning from dinner with his sister, Maggie. She had come over earlier that afternoon determined to stay with her brother for as long as it took to get him over this mess. Dave appreciated the company. The monster appreciated the alibi.

Pleased with his handwork, Stewart asked Lisa if she was ready for her new, fuller lips. Lisa was much more comfortable now. Despite being a big man, Stewart had proven to be surprisingly gentle. Besides, her face was almost completely numb now. She'd be amazed if she felt a thing. Nodding her approval, she reminded Stewart where she wanted the majority of the silicon filler put, emphasising the need to leave it symmetrical.

Stewart took a deep breath and pumped the first of 20ml of Formic acid into Lisa's top lip. No, Formic acid is not another name for silicon. It is a weak but extremely persistent acid used in the removal of warts and moles. Even in that use, it is diluted well below the 95% strength in the syringe Stewart was holding.

He was a little confused when Lisa's lip didn't swell as he had seen them do so often at the clinic. Unperturbed, he reinserted the needle a finger width to the left and depressed the plunger. Again, there was no change in the shape of the lip. Stewart moved over again and repeated the same process. They do say, the mark of a truly stupid man, is one who repeats the same mistake over and over again and expects different results.

He'd discharged almost 5ml of the fluid before Lisa showed any discomfort. Her eyes snapped open.

"It's starting to really sting, Stew."

"Sorry, babe, must have hit a nerve."

2ml and two jabs later, Lisa forcibly pushed Stewart away.

"Ow, Stewart. It REALLY STINGS!"

Stewart watched as Lisa's eyes widened in pain and terror. She began thrashing her head from side to side in a vain attempt to get away from her own lips. The lips share with the fingertips and genitals the characteristic of having a greater concentration of nerves than any other part of the human body. Even the paralysing, numbing effect of the Botox couldn't shield Lisa from the chemical assault that was to come.

Stewart watched bemused until the screaming started. He was completely confused by the thin wisps of acrid fumes coming from Lisa's mouth area. Two things became apparent very quickly. Something had gone horribly wrong and soon lots of fingers would be pointing at him. Forcibly, he tore Lisa's hands from her face. Right before his eyes he saw her top lip, from one corner of her mouth to just the other side of centre, blistering and bubbling. Lisa wrenched her hands from his and grabbed her face again.

Her renewed screaming triggered Stewart's fight or flight reflex. He ran. Out the door, into his car, tyres screeching in his haste to get away.

"Hello, emergency operator. Which service do you require?"

"You've got to help. There's a woman absolutely screaming next door. I just saw my neighbour take off in his car, but she's still screaming."

"Yes, I can hear it in the background. What is your address, madam? I'll get the police and ambulance there straight away."

The police entered Stewart's flat with guns drawn seventeen minutes later. There was an eerie silence. Lisa's mind, overwhelmed by pain, had shut her consciousness off in self-preservation. Seeing the recumbent figure on the floor, the police quickly checked all the rooms, before beckoning the ambos in.

The senior medical responder had seen some bad shit in her time, but even she was shocked. Two thirds of the victim's top lip had gone, including some of the cheek. The nose looked bizarre, hanging over a gaping cavern with teeth exposed. The woman's eyes were open, red and staring, both lower lids almost inverted. Years of training cut in and both officers checked pulse, breathing, secondary injuries and the like. Apart from the lip, both cheeks were gouged as if the victim had tried to claw her own face off. Two fingers on her right hand were bloodied. Lying next to deep scratches on the wooden floor were two broken fingernails.

"Pulse weak and thready, breathing slow and shallow, not much else wrong."

This from the junior of the pair, who then bolted to the kitchen and threw up in the sink. He returned several minutes later, as the senior officer was putting Lisa on a stretcher assisted by one of the policemen.

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I don't think you're going to like this job, John."

Lisa came around just as they were closing the ambulance doors. The junior gave her a hit of Penthrane but that did little to quiet the screams. The driver yelled into the radio, trying to get an EMS doctor to authorise another dose. He quickly acquiesced. Even he could hear the pain in the background.

It was after 11:00p.m. when Dave got the call that his wife was in hospital. He wandered down there in no particular hurry, practicing his concerned look on the way. Once in emergency, he quickly made himself known as both Lisa's husband and a doctor. He was given a mask and allowed into the ICU. He introduced himself to a dumbfounded looking treating doctor. Lisa was on a ventilator, lower face swaddled in bandages and her eyes were taped shut.

"What happened?"

"I have absolutely no idea. Her top lip seems to be eaten away by some sort of corrosive agent and she's scratched her own face. We had to keep her sedated due to the pain. Then, twenty minutes ago she went into respiratory failure, that's when we hooked her up to the ventilator. She's running a high fever and has lost bladder control. We've taken some blood for testing, but, frankly, I'm flummoxed."