Jannie Peirce was not angry at the man who raped her.  She did not hate him.  She pitied him.  But that did not let him off the hook.  Her feelings were deep and upsetting. 

Disappointment and betrayal were what weighed heavily on her heart.  She could not look at herself in the mirror for the last three weeks.  How had she allowed herself to be so royally abused?  How naïve she was. 

Tonight she had no choice but to redeem herself and restore her dignity.  That meant she had to reclaim it from the man who took it.  Then refused the payment for it.  He was a coward. 

Enjoy the final part of Jannie’s slice of life.          


You Failed Me!


JANNIE PEIRCE WAS FOCUSED on three things: The note attached to the large White Oak Tree.  The man who was walking down the path.  The twelve-inch Bowie Knife in her hand that she kept squeezing. 

It was five minutes past two a.m.  The weeds Jannie stood in the middle of were taller than her five feet four-inch frame.  Perfect cover.  The man did not see her when he stopped in the path.  He looked around and headed for the tree with the note on it. 

The thief, the predator, the freeloader, was back for more, Jannie thought.  

The man looked around and snatched the note off the tree.  He had no idea that he had just looked into Jannie’s eyes.  He shined a small flashlight beam on the note. 

Jannie smiled as she imagined what was going through his mind as he read the note.  It was for him, after all.

Dear Abductor and Rapist,


You had one job to do three weeks ago.  Sexual assault wasn’t one of them.  That was your choice to make.

To be fair to you, I can understand why you chose to assault me the way you did.  I’ve been told I’m naturally pretty.  I have the petite frame that men like you want to dominate.  It increases your confidence by dehumanizing me, making me a mere helpless vessel for your excretion.  I can see the turn-on there.  How that would excite you and others.

I guess for men like you, it’s like an adult dominating a child.  Not that I’m calling you a pedophile.  What I’m saying is I don’t fault your animalistic instincts and behavior toward me. 

But I’m extremely disappointed in the outcome.  You were the only one who benefited.  What happened to give and take?  You made this a lopsided relationship.  HOW SELFISH OF YOU!    

You were supposed to end my suffering.  I have had devastating news about my health.  I’ll be dead in less than a year.  Last week my fiancée died when a drunk driver hit and killed him while he crossed the street on his bike.  He was a fit beautiful man. 

You can’t see me.  But I’m an emotional wreck right now.  AND YOU DID IT!

Sorry to get off-track.

What you failed to do has caused me immeasurable pain.  I would sue you in court, but time is not on my side.

I’m the only living member of my family.  I’m in this world alone.  I’m suicidal.  I’ve just never had the guts to go all the way and rid myself of the excruciating burden of living. 

I’ve taken pills.  A neighbor saved me.  I’ve stood in the middle of Interstate 95.  I caused a one hundred-car pile-up.  I’ve shot at my head and missed and killed my precious cat, Milly.  She was the only one who cared for me.

I’m a failure in holding on to people I love.  You were supposed to end all of this.  My suffering was to end by your hands.  But you didn’t do your part.


I’m sorry I’m getting emotional again.

Here’s what I’m saying.  Did you think you just found me sitting on a park bench in the dark?  Did you believe that?

I gave you myself as a gift to do your job.  I never once complained or cried out to get you in trouble.  And you hurt me.  You hurt me a lot and for a long time.  Don’t deny it.  You did it on purpose.  But I didn’t criticize you.  Because you were going to help me. 

Although I only met you that night, we had a bond.  We became friends.  Friends help each other.  It’s the golden rule.

Not being a murderer, my killing would have haunted you.  That’s why I allowed you have your way with me.  Call it priming the pump, so to speak.  Three hours I let you.  And you left me in the worst mental shape ever.

I’m sorry.  You’re going to have to pay for it.  There are consequences for failure and doing a half-ass job.  You enjoyed the pleasure.  But you failed to follow through.  It’s time to pay for it.


Your Late Night Pleasure

The man looked around and wondered if it was a joke.  Would that crazy bitch send him this?  What crazy f….

He gasped and jerked forward.  He reached his hands over his shoulder.  A paralyzing pain shot through his head. 

The knife slid through his upper back like a hot blade through butter.  He dropped to his knees and felt the weight of someone pressing down on him.  He fought to fend off whoever was on him.  But within seconds, he slowed down and fell face-first on the ground.

He lay on his stomach, breathing his last few breaths.

“I guess we both suffered a little,” Jannie said, pushing down on the knife.  “It’s going through your lung.  You’re not going to make it.  But you’re a rapist.  So, I can’t have sympathy for you.  What’s your name?”  She moved his hair from his face.

He swallowed.  “Ha…Harry…”

“I won’t let you die alone, Harry,” she said.  “I’m going to stay here with you.  In the photo, in the other room of your house, I assume that was your wife and three children.”

He nodded.

“I’ll write them and tell them how brave you were,” she said.  She lay on top of him. Then she sat up.  “Thank you for giving my life purpose.  I’m going to work my final days in helping women not be attacked.  You’re my first project.” 

He panted as she sat straddled on his back. 

“Shhhh,” she whispered.  “It’s okay.  Shhhh.  That’s it.”  She felt his body relaxing under her.  “At least you had fun with me.  It’s okay to go.  Let go.”  She felt his back flex and drop and go soft.  “Let go.  I’ll see you soon.”

I hope you enjoyed reading about Jannie Peirce.  She was an unusual young woman.

If you enjoyed the story, pass it along to a friend.

Please come back tomorrow. I have a new book out.  I think you’ll enjoy it. Of course, I’m a little biased.

I’ll see you tomorrow.


Stephen Wallace

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