"You ruined my life."
She begged him to sell her the farm for the number in her bankbook. She said she would do anything for him. She could make up the difference in services if it pleased him. She had to get out of Citadel. She couldn't take it one day more. She didn't want to go crazy too! She wanted the farm back and would do anything to get it. She offered her dignity in trade. It was all she had left.
He collected his clothes frantically.
"Please don't leave me! I’ll be your girlfriend or love slave, whatever you want! We can fight every night. You can hurt me,” she pleaded.
“I just want to go home!” She moaned through drunken tears.
She clung to his leg as he backed away from her. The game started off great but this nonsense ruined it for him. The whole thing had gotten too weird.
"You killed my daddy not me. You killed my daddy."
She was absolutely cuckoo. He loved when dames cried, but this was ridiculous. He didn’t care for the way she was acting at all. This was no way to treat a paying customer, especially not one of his caliber. He grabbed her arms, picked her up and shook her into silence. He yelled. "SHUT UP!"
It worked. She bit her lower lip. She sat silent and shook. She watched him get ready to leave. He broke into a lecture. "Quack, quack, quack. My goodness! Learn how to behave! I don't care what happened to your family. What’s done is done!”
There always seemed to be another line to cross. Since Betty couldn't control him, she wanted him dead. Betty decided that this was going to be his last sexual act. She could make one of her own fantasies come true. She could kill one of those devils.
He turned away to ignore Betty and button up his starched shirt. She saw the perfect place to stick the knife. There was always one in the bedside drawer just incase things got out of hand. The girls couldn't have guns, they were too noisy, but knives were lying all around Razzles.
She picked up the knife and plotted it's course into his spine and through to his heart. She was ready to stab him in the back just like Carson did to her father. Her teeth were clenched. Her body shook. Tears burned her face. She gripped the knife so hard she could feel the blood pounding in her hand. She wanted to slay the monster. She wanted to put the knife right though him more than anything she'd ever wanted to do in her entire life, except to win back the family farm. It was the answer! It would be justice!
But she couldn't do it.
Carson exited the room without looking back or ever knowing how close he was to death.
She just couldn't do it.
She sat there crying in the bed. Then reassembled her nursing uniform.
The door to her room burst open with a bang. The management crew of Razzles filed in. She thought they were here to save her but they grabbed her and hefted her out. In the hallway, Carson stood with his arms crossed. He nodded his head with a smug smile as they dragged Betty from her bedroom. She was carried over the heads of the mob. She bounced off the wall as they progressed. Over the ruckus and her own wailing she heard her manager shout out. "Get that crazy broad out of here, now!"
She was hurried down a secluded back hallway and her friends dumped her in the street. As she kneeled on all fours in the gutter she was peppered by a smattering of parting shots.
"Why did you even come here tonight?"
"We don’t need those type of theatrics here!"
"You need help, Betsy!"
"That dame is nuts."
"Go share a padded room with your crazy mom."
"It’s just business!"
She was evicted again and could never return to Razzles.
She picked herself up and roamed the midnight streets of Citadel. She wandered like a ghost, glowing in her white nursing uniform. She already felt dead.
Her family lost the farm so she became a whore to buy it back. It only cost her soul. She hoped that God would understand.
All she had done, all she had become was for nothing. Her family was destroyed. Her father was dead, her mom was locked in the nut-house and Betty was fired from her job as a b-list whore. She hated life in Citadel and wanted out.
It was very late. The streets were black. The entire Citadel seemed asleep except for her and the sound of squealing tires somewhere in the distance. Through tears she saw her final destination, a rusty old drawbridge. She walked to the railing and leaned over. She wondered how cold the water was. She had never been a good swimmer and never took the time to learn. That oversight could only help her at that moment. Tears broke from her face and fell to the swirling hypnotic rhythm of the black waves below.
Betty had learned that life was constant pain and suffering.
The evil in the world was too strong.
She prayed to God to intervene
She prayed to God for a reason to live.
She wanted a way out.
She couldn’t stop crying.
The handrail on the bridge was the last line she would ever have to cross.
She inched closer.
Suddenly, a heavy crash behind her shook the air! It jarred Betty from her trance. A car had swerved off the road and into a brick wall. It took out a mailbox and lamppost as it crossed the sidewalk. From the sound of impact Betty expected the vehicle to be demolished. But the car was immaculate. It was shiny, black and streamlined. It was futuristic and menacing at the same time. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. The door swung open and a man rolled out onto the pavement. He was covered in blood. Her nursing training got the better of her and she responded to the medical emergency. She rushed over to him sobering up more and more with each pulse of adrenaline as she ran.
As she closed in she heard the wounded man laughing. She wondered if this city drove everyone mad eventually. He proclaimed, “I did it. I hurt them where it counts. I fought the power at the top of Citadel with truth and justice. I’m a hero!”
Betty knelt at his side and asked gently. “What are you talking about?”
“I stole their car. Ha ha, but I wasn’t quick enough to get away unscathed.” He looked at his bloodied arm.
“Why did you steal the car?” She asked.
“Ha ha. Because I’m a spy, sort of.” He responded proudly.
“You’re a traitor?” She asked.
“No, you’ve got it all backwards. I’m the good guy. This car was built for the wrong side. It was constructed for the enemies of the free world.”
“But we’re in America.” Betty corrected confused.
“I know. This car is a magnificent weapon. I stole it from an unscrupulous war profiteer named Oslo Herning.”
A chill ran through her. She knew the name. He was a client of hers and one of the Silver Spoon Circle. She spent many nights with him at Razzles.
“I, I don’t understand.” She stammered. “Oslo is a fascist?”
“There are war profiteers here in Citadel. They act against the best interests of the free world because they are motivated only by greed, not right and wrong. Their only concern is personal gain. There is a lot of money at stake if we all go to war. Some see it as a doorway to make big bucks. Unfortunately companies, and investors are anxious to profit from the death and destruction of others, including their own countrymen. They see it as an opportunity. They sell weapons and munitions to the highest bidders. In some cases they double deal and sell to both sides, bullets for one side and then the armor to the other. If that’s not evil I don't know what is.”
“They want others to die to assure the growth of their bank accounts. They have no principles. They are monsters. Someone had to make them accountable.”
His words rang as true to her as any others she ever heard or thought. As he spoke Betty pieced together past conversations she witnessed between Silver Spoons. It supported the spy’s claim. She knew they were monster too, but she didn’t know they went this far.