Fucking bitch. How she’s got the nerve to float around like Little Miss Innocent… It just feels like a fresh kick in the teeth, and after everything I’ve been through. Years in the planning, years in the making… And now I’m so fucking close. I’m about to lose everything one way or another and it’s like a final taunt. An insult on top of an insult.
It’ll just make the final piece that little bit more enjoyable. Pleasurable.
At least now she’s exposed. Out in the open. Rob and the team seem to be slowly cottoning on to what’s unfolding, if just a little too slowly. Too slowly for her, anyway. My God, they’re close.
The last few weeks have gone to plan, though. They’ve been very, very satisfying. Killing Daniel Mortimer was a different experience. Navigating those terrace gardens, the thrill of executing him with the police sat outside, yards from where I smashed his head in.
Of course he was there. Lying bitch.
That was exhilarating. I was buzzing for hours that night. It was electric.
I was expecting to have to wait until long after dark, until he was tucked up in bed. But it was wide open, and all the while he just sat in his chair with his Beats on after a day at work. It was so perfect I simply couldn’t have planned it.
Killing him was a bit like Joe Davies, only I didn’t get to see the look on his face. There was simply no time. That was a shame, but I wasn’t sure I’d get this far. Dad would be proud of my determination, if not my methods. I made it to Mortimer. Undetected.
Smashing him around the head was such a relief, so enjoyable. It was also long overdue. He had it coming, and hearing the crack of his skull was immense. Over and over. It felt good to see his life ebb away while he lay there, defenseless, his body twitching. I hope the last thing that went through his mind was what he did that day and what he did to my family. I whispered my name to him.
I whispered my name to each of them. Told them who I was. Told Charlie Worth before I got going whose daughter I was. Made them look me in the eye so they knew why they had to die. And then I took their lives. They all knew why. Decades-old vengeance was finally being served.
And so it comes to her. To why she must die too. She is still guilty, despite not being in Dad’s shop that day. She’s just guilty in a different way. Her way. Ultimately, I’m still not sure who was in the shop that day and who wasn’t, and neither were the police, but if you live by the sword, you’ll fucking die by it.
Maybe they didn’t all have to die, but they still did it. One way or another, they did it. They were responsible. They robbed those jewellers. Decent people, decent men and women, just looking to earn a living in the right way.
Dad was never the same again. He couldn’t have been. I watched him suffer. I watched my mum suffer. The times weren’t kind. There was no compensation for us. For Dad. No support, no victim groups to talk to. Society didn’t understand and wasn’t compassionate towards those who were different. Times were hard for the disabled, the blind, the deaf. Society looked differently at you. Judged you. Going to the supermarket with Dad with a mutilated ear and missing fingers… They used the word maimed. They talked about him. He hated himself. Hated being looked at like that. Felt like a circus stooge. He became reclusive, more and more withdrawn, and was a shadow of himself until the day he took his own life.
The day he left me and Mum behind.
Those men would never have been released if they’d been convicted of dad’s murder, but they couldn’t decide who to charge, and she was responsible for that. She lied for him and they all got away with it.
Who was there, who wasn’t. Whether it was even the same gang, or another gang operating in a similar way.
It was them. Joe was there, Charlie was definitely there. The rest is just semantics. Detail. But when you cut out cancer, you cut out the whole fucking thing. Which leads me to the final piece.
One to go.