InsaneJournal

say your prayers and stomp it out
Who: Camilla and a bunch of NPCs
Where: New York City, in a place where her darkness lies
When: A few months after she was raped
What: Vengeance
Warning: Violence and death

Her therapist said she needed catharsis, some sort of release for her pain. She suggested some sort of art or possibly journaling to get it out. Yes, Camilla could have designed a garment that got out her pain. Yes, she could have draw out the darkness that was in her heart, the darkness that lingered in her mind every night when she went to bed, but that wasn’t enough. Dominic had killed the bastards and for that she was grateful to a point. That would have been her catharsis. That would have soothed the pain in her heart, the terrors that still woke her at night. At least, that’s what she believed.

So what happened when she found out that the men who had raped her had people who were more powerful than them, ones who wouldn’t have helped her if they’d been there, ones who condoned that sort of behavior, she was going to work every piece of magic she had to bring them down in the slowest way possible. What she’d been able to do so far was lose the club they owned money, have them inspected by the city. That was going to end tonight.

Camilla went home and looked at her closet, the plan already formed in her mind. Dominic was out with Keira somewhere. Good. She didn’t want to worry about him wanting to stop her or worse, wanting to do it for her. This was her night and she was going to rock the hell out of that club. But she to wait. So naturally, she needed the perfect outfit. Finally, she chose. Black skinny jeans and a tank, short leather jacket and her favorite boots. That took some working. Those boots were killing her leg but that’s what pills were for. She popped a couple and went to the window and watched night descend on the city.

Part of her thought she might rest but she was too keyed up. Camilla went to leave the apartment, slipping past the maid and her father in his study. No one would look for her while she was doing this. The spell she’d cast as she left her room saw to that. It would be as if she were sleeping soundly for once since everything happened. Maybe tonight she actually would. Her heels made a distinct noise on the city streets and her walk told everyone to back off. She was not to be fucked with.

A quick detour to a park was needed to get blood for her spell. There were a lot of cats that lived in this area and it took three to fill her jar, which she wiped clean and concealed in her jacket. That would be enough. There would be more spilt tonight before she was done, but this would get her started. As she moved through the city towards the club, she thought her words out carefully, wanting to make sure her spell was perfect. One of the perks of being a born witch: she didn’t have to use someone else’s words to exact her revenge.

She stopped a few blocks away from the club, slipping into a diner to order a coffee and wait. There were enough people coming and going in their best clubbing attire, which she was judging as she sipped at her coffee, that no one noticed her all back outfit. Her eyes were flicking to her cell often enough, knowing she needed to be in before last call but not too much before. The few people who saw her, the better in her opinion.

The bouncer’s back was turned when she slipped inside and she went up to the second level, watching the bodies move on the dance floor. No one paid her any mind so she slipped the jar from her pocket and drizzled some of its contents all over the floor of the second level, weaving in and out of couples making out and even one having sex in a darkened corner. Something flashed in her mind, a memory of that night, of the grunts of the men as they pushed themselves inside her over and over but she shook her head to try to shake the memory. There were pills with her name on it at home, ones that would clear her mind for the rest of the evening.

When the music stopped, she was in the shadows. People milled out of the club, some stumbling and she smirked. Drunk people were some of her favorite to watch under normal circumstances. They were the easiest to judge because they were the most honest. Once the doors were locked, the started to count the money, leaving the mess for morning as they always did. Their predictability was helpful to her.

“Evening, gentleman,” she said, leaning against the railing. The handful of men, the bartender, three bouncers and the owner all looked up at her. “Have a good night?”

“What the fuck are you doing here, lady? Club’s closed. Looks like you’ll have to find your jollies elsewhere.” The owner scoffed at her and one of the bouncers moved towards the stairs, stopping as he heard her boots moving towards the opposite stairway, one that was more towards the opposite end of the club. Her jar continued to drip its contents as she moved to the center of the room, drawing a circle around her before tossing the now empty jar at the owner. It still had a thin coating of blood on the inside and there was no mistaking the freaked out look on his face.

“Don’t worry, boys. This won’t take long.” She smirked and shook out her hair. “Remember Nikko? Aaron? David? Josh? Remember how they disappeared? Well, I know they bragged to you about the girl they gangbanged. I know they were proud of what they did to her, how they left her there for dead. I know they spit on her body and laughed at the ‘poor, little rich girl’,” she said, air quoting the last words. The men were captivated but the bouncers were moving closer to her, clearly seeing her as more of a threat then the did a few minutes ago. It didn’t matter. One murmured spell and they couldn’t touch her in her circle of blood.

“That girl was me and you all sat her the day I nearly died, laughing about the girl they had fucked over. Well, guess what. Paypack’s a bitch.” She withdrew her knife as one of the bouncers charged her circle, finding himself unconscious on the floor a moment later. That was exactly what she’d wanted. Camilla knelt down and slit his throat, watching as the blood pooled at her feet.

Standing, she looked like a force to be reckoned with. The blood started to move more across the floor, joining the trail from the stairs. “Bleed it out, darling. I’m nearly done.” She looked back at the owner. “Know your money troubles? The constant inspections? Your boys messed with the wrong witch and I’ve been biding my time until I was better, until I was healed enough to come down here myself and tell you exactly how much I fucking despise you and your weakness. You think hiding behind goons and money and crime is going to keep you safe from people like me? Well, you’re sadly fucking mistake.”

Stepping out of the circle, the bouncer nearest to her got the knife in his neck. It was lucky he hadn’t been expecting that or all her plans might have been shot to hell. The other had literally wet himself. “Seems your help kind of sucks.” Now, where was that bartender? The sound of a gun cocking behind her made her smirk. “Someone’s trying to be a hero. Silly boy.” She turned and pulled out a lighter.

“Darkness consumed only by fire, fill this building with the flames of my hate, of my pain. Burn it to the ground and those who laughed with the men who hurt me. Make it agonising as the flesh melts from their bones, as they struggle to breathe in the thick, black smoke just as I struggled to breathe in that alley as they held their hands over my throat.”

With that, she dropped the lighter in the puddle of blood the bartender was standing in. His screams made her smile. Turning, she kicked flaming blood at the owner, loving the sound of his anguished pain. Perfect. The other two were scrambling for the door but the blood she’d laid out when she came in went up as fast as gasoline, maybe faster, but it didn’t touch her. It went for the men first, who stumbled back into the bar.

Camilla paused for a moment, surveying her work as they screamed and wailed in pain. It was perfect. Slipping out the fire escape, she turned a few blocks away as the club exploded with fire. There was no sign of it on her, no smell of smoke. The blood that had been on her shoes was gone the moment the fire started, leaving no trace that she’d been in the club at all. That night, she slept a dreamless sleep, with a peaceful smile on her face.