Page 66 of Dark Side of the Cloth

Dean made his way over to her murder board and stared at all the faces that she’d made plans to kill. Pulling the pins from the image of Yasmine and the one of himself, he stuck the pins back in their place and walked over to his makeshift tank.

“You know, Whitney, I knew you were not what you seemed, but I have to tell you I was not expecting to find out you were a serial killer. I mean, it takes a lot to impress me, so you should pat yourself on the back. Actually, I wouldn’t do that even if you could. I’ve heard they— ” Dean pointed to the spiders around the tank, “—don’t like aggressive movements.”

“I’m not what you think. I’ve been set up. I’m innocent. This is all my husband’s doing. I knew he was up to something terrible. I was just afraid to come forward,” Whitney whispered.

Dean smirked and placed the image of Yasmine on the glass.

“I will hand it to you, your lies to someone else would sound believable.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Whitney, do you think I would’ve gone to this much trouble if I didn’t already know the truth? I see through you,” he said calmly.

She let out another small whimper as a wandering Brazilian crawled up her leg and started making its way toward her exposed pussy.

“Ooo, that doesn’t look like it’s going to end well.”

“Please, I’ll do whatever you want. Just get me out of here.”

Whitney closed her eyes as the widow crawled further down to sit between her eyes. Dean gave a sharp laugh. It was like the creature was purposely torturing her as it cleaned its legs. A small fuck you perhaps for how she’d been using them?

“I’m sure this is not exactly what you had planned when we were alone together. It certainly wasn’t what you were thinking about before you fell asleep.” He cocked his head, letting that piece of information sink in. “Yes, I was there.”

Dean wandered over to his bag and placed the image of Yasmine and himself inside. He didn’t want any of this being connected to them.

“Please, Father.” Tears ran down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled as she tried to hold still.

He hefted the pack onto his shoulder.

“Oh! That’s right. This would be a good time to let you know that I’m not actually a priest.” He smiled wide. “A fitting end, I think. A Black Widow takes out the Black Widow. There is something very karmic about it. Well, I better get going. How long do you think it will take before they get hungry and decide to take a bite?”

“I hate you,” she whispered, her eyes hard as she glared at him.

Dean held his hands over his chest by his heart.

“Oh, you hurt me, Whitney, and here I thought we had something special.”

He walked to the bottom of the stairs and turned back to face the impressive tank of death. “One thing I would recommend, don’t fall asleep with your mouth open.”

He laughed as he walked up the stairs, Whitney’s begging whispers calling for him all the way.

Dean took a deep breath as he reached the top, and he reached out and flicked the light off. He waited a moment, and as soon as the first scream reached his ears, he smiled. Dean stepped back to close the door on the chapter of Whitney’s Basement of Horrors.

In a daze, Yasmine hobbled down the street towards Mabel’s. She couldn’t take the silence of her house or reading about one more terrible thing that one human had inflicted on another. She’d spent the better part of three days reading one graphically horrific detail after another. The things in that folder would make anyone’s head spin: rapists, serial killers, pedophiles, abusers. The list of offenses was endless, and some were by people she’d thought she knew, people she’d brought comfort to in their time of need.

The bell jingled as she pushed open the door to the quaint diner.

“Well, hello there, darlin’! I’m glad to see you out of the house. I was going to bring you some soup tonight, but this works even better,” Mabel said.

The older woman smiled at her.

“Yeah, it sounds like it’s going to be a long healing process. But, look at you, you seem as good as new?” Yasmine teased.

“Sweet girl, I’m better than new. You can’t keep me down.” Mabel wiped her hands on her apron. “Go on and grab any booth. I’ll get you that soup and a coffee.”

Yasmine dropped down into the largest booth, placing the annoying and cumbersome crutches beside her. She stared at the sprinkling of snow falling outside and the people walking by the large window. Life kept on moving forward no matter what happened. Her sister's death didn’t stop the world from spinning, even if that was how it felt to her, and eventually, she learned to put one foot in front of the other again. Laughter caught her attention, and she looked up to see a family enjoying lunch. The little boy had his spoon stuck to his nose as he made a face. She smiled at the silly display.

“Penny, for your thoughts?” Mabel slid into the booth across from her and placed the cup of coffee and bowl of soup down for her.