Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Breanne Van Helinger had always thought of herself as being perfect.  From
her perfectly done red hair to the carefully manicured nails she had been
brought up to be the very symbol of perfection.  And if she didn't see why
the rest of the world couldn't be.  People had their place and hers was
somewhere at the top.  She still had the trophy she won when she was six
and took first place as the talent show.  Then came the beauty pageants and
the Miss Teen pageants.  It all went wrong at the state level when she had
to watch some lesser female be crowned with the tiara and given the
flowers. She could remember that bright, fake smile and those fake breasts.
What made it worse was the fact she knew just how that bitch had won. 
Everyone there knew that the `winner' was such a slut.  The whispers had
said that she had prostituted herself the night before with each of the
judges, even the two female ones!

   That still hurt.  And Breanne was determined that she would never feel
that hurt again.  she set standards high for herself and everyone around
her.  When she had met Rex he had so much potential.  His family was in the
stock market and she had visions of mansions and yachts and holidays in far
away and expensive places.  Then came the crash and she watched as those
dreams were flushed away.  Rex turned out to be a disappointment.  Without
the family fortune he was useless.  They lost the house and all the cars.
She had to settle for this little house in Mysteria Lane but Breanne saw
there was an opportunity here.  It was small enough to start again.  To
shape things the way she wanted them.  She also had the money know when Rex
had an unfortunate heart attack and sadly never survived.  Poor, poor
Rex.....

   After the funeral she found out Rex had been sitting on a pile of cash
that he'd kept secret from the creditors.  Three big suitcases that were
hidden in the cellar, all stuffed with hundred dollar bills.  Breanne saw
the chance to improve things.  To shape things.  But she needed something
else.  That bit was simple.  A friendly expert in the city helped out
there. It was a plain fact of life that people wanted money.  She made a
deal.  Soon she had a way of controlling things.  Or at least something she
could use to get control.  Then the politics began.  the correctly phrased
word here or wistful suggestion there and people would do things.  They
would treat her with respect and listen to her.  More importantly they
would as she asked them.  All the time Breanne would have the sweet,
innocent smile on her face.  It was small things at first.  Things that
were said that Breanne would know about.  Things that had happened she
seemed to allude to.  She never right out blackmailed them.  Never made any
threats.  Breanne just mentioned something similar had happened to a friend
and what happened.  Divorce, arrest, jail even.

   She used her knowledge to mould the way they behaved.  Breanne set up
the poker game to make sure she could talk to them quietly and whisper in
their ears.  It was like chess to her.  She was the queen and making all
the moves.  Then she hit prize.  The slut, Ellie had only been in the Lane
for a few months when she saw the moves being made.  The smiles and the
flirty touches she made to the men.  She invited Ellie to the games and
watched as the slut played nice with the other women.  But Breanne knew
what she up to.  Keep them happy then....

   Then it happened.  Ellie and Carlos, Abbie's husband.  She saw them
kissing.  Instead of shock, Breanne could only smile.  Gotcha, she thought.
She kept an eye on them saw the sneaking around, the cuddles.  She saw it
all.  But Ellie was more difficult to crack.  When she mentioned to the
women about them possibly having affairs, Ellie was the only one who
shrugged.  The rest were shocked.  But that blonde slut didn't seem
bothered.  she even admitted to having affairs in the past.  "A couple of
married men," Ellie had said.

   "Jesus!" Sarah gasped.

   Abbie eyed Ellie suspiciously.  "Just to let you know, if you touch my
Carlos..."

   "Oh, please." Ellie smiled.  "Never shit in you're own backyard, I think
the saying goes."

   "I still can't believe you're not bothered about it." Lea shook her
head. "Marriage is something built on trust and..."

   "Bullshit." Ellie told her.  "Don't tell me if George Clooney was in
your bed you'd kick him out."

   Lea was lost for words.  Breanne just watched the little exchange and
mentally recorded everything.  She watched Ellie continue the affair and
continue to lie to Abbie.  She watched as Ellie worked her way through the
wives husbands.  Juggling them at the same time.  Tom then Carlos then
Mike, Sarah's man.  It was entertaining watching them sneak about, and
watching the arrogant little slut enjoy the games with the women whose men
she had been sleeping with.  The information was filed away to be used
later.

   The perfect little world Breanne had created only collapsed when she was
tidying up in the cellar and found there was something else in one of the
suitcases.  A photo album.  Opening it, Breanne was shocked as she saw
pictures of other women.  All naked.  Next to the pictures were dates and
times and comments.  She flicked through the album.  The dates were all
through their married life.  `Helen' was a `great little coc...' Breanne
couldn't read it.  Rex had been cheating on her all the time they were
married.  There were women and dates that were during their honeymoon! 
Breanne felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.  Anger, and
helplessness.  She had been played all those years.  She stopped at one
picture and looked at it more closely.  The face was younger, the breasts
smaller but....

   Ellie.  It was the slut from down the lane, Ellie.  She'd had Rex too! A
thousands thoughts flashed through Breanne's mind as the fact sank in. 
Ellie had slept with Rex.  And Tom...  And Rex...  And Carlos...  And
Rex....  And Mike...  And Rex!  The slut had them all!  For the first time
since Rex's funeral Breanne cried.  This time it was with rage....



   *



   She had watched the slut walking up and down the Lane over the next few
days.  The walk said she thought she owned it.  Why had she came here?  For
Rex?  He was dead.  Then why....  Maybe the money.  Maybe she was sniffing
about looking for the money.  Yes, Breanne had figured it out.  She had
come here looking for Rex, looking for some cash.  But found he'd died.  So
she just started looking for another sucker.  And found three of them.  The
slut had come here to disrupt Breanne's little world.  That had to be the
reason.  Whores like her were always just in it for the cash or the gifts.
How many sugar daddies had the slut used, how many decent wives had she
destroyed in the process?  It would end here.  Breanne would make sure of
that.

   All it took was a confession to Lea - worthy of an oscar, Breanne
thought - that she'd been keeping quiet about something she saw.  Tom
leaving Ellie's house a couple of times.  When Lea was away.  It's probably
nothing.  The next time she saw Lea she saw the tears and heard the anger
as Lea talked about how he'd lied to her.  A week later and Breanne learned
that Lea had hired a private investigator.  After a month she saw Tom being
thrown out of the house.  Breanne watch him slink towards Ellie's house
then look back before leaving the Lane.  One gone, slut, Breanne had
mouthed towards Ellie's house.

   As soon as Abbie learned about Ellie and Tom that seemed to set of her
suspicions and the rows started.  The one night Carlos had an accident.  A
hit and run.  The car had been stolen from Sarah's house and dumped a
couple of blocks away.  Carlos never made it to hospital, dying in the
ambulance.  Another one gone.  Breanne saw the slender figure of Abbie
returning and being told about the hit and run.  She watched the woman
rushing back to the car and heading off to the hospital.  Breanne thought
she saw a smile on her face as the roared off.....

   The next day the police were at Sarah's.  It seemed they were asking
about Mike.  About when they'd met, and where he might be.  Sarah had told
her later that Mike seemed to panic after the hit and run.  She's tried to
stop him from leaving but he packed a bag and left.  It seemed that Mike
had a history that had landed him in prison a couple of times.  Sarah was
in shock at learning about this.  But Breanne was there to comfort her and
help her through this terrible time.  Looking across at Ellie she could
think, third one down, whore.

   The women of the Lane survived, but Lea was going to name Ellie as the
reason for the divorce.  Breanne had a better idea.  She told the others
that she'd seen Ellie leaving her house the night of Carlos's accident. 
Then coming back a couple of hours later.  It was true.  She was probably
out ruining another marriage.  But with the right spin....

   In no time, Abbie was picking up on the suggestion.  "Do you think
she...."

   "Why?" Breanne asked.  "I knew you two were having arguments..."

   "She was screwing Carlos." Abbie told them.

   "What!" Sarah gasped.

   "Ellie?" Lea said.

   "Oh my God..." Breanne replied.

   "Fucking tramp!" Lea muttered.

   "He denied it but I knew when he was lying." Abbie said.  "He was
screwing that slut."

   "But," Breanne suggested, "she said she wouldn't--"

   "Once a fucking tramp always a fucking tramp!" Lea said.

   "And I'll bet it was her who killed him." Abbie nodded

   Breanne blinked.  "Why?"

   "It's obvious." Abbie sneered.  "He was going to leave her or... 
Something!" The woman was making it up.  Breanne knew in that instant that
Ellie hadn't killed Carlos.  It was obvious who did though.  "Yes," Abbie
continued.  "She stole Mike's car and ran him down and just left him to
die!" Breanne saw the woman barely contain the joy at the thought.  "And if
it wasn't for her," Abbie pointed to Sarah.  "You and Jenny would still
have Mike.  That bitch has destroyed every one of us.  Except for Bree, of
course."

   Breanne just looked at the women.

   "Yes," Lea nodded.  "She'd have probably tried it on with Rex, too."

   Breanne said nothing, letting it play out.

   "So what do we do?" Sarah asked.  "Go to the police?"

   "No!" Abbie snapped then regained her composure.

   "It seems to me," Breanne said.  "There is no evidence.  So the
police..."

   "They won't be interested." Abbie stated.  "We need to deal with her."

   Lea nodded.  "Yes."

   "She doesn't destroy any more relationships!" Abbie said.

   "So what are you wanting to do?" Breanne asked.  "Make her life
miserable, force her out?"

   "Yes!" Abbie grinned.  "And no.  She doesn't leave this place until
she's begging us to let her leave."

   "Yes!" Lea agreed.  "Make the bitch suffer."

   Sarah had said nothing.  Breanne nodded slowly.  "You think she ran
Carlos down?" she asked Abbie.

   "Hell, yes, and she's going to pay." the latino woman said.

   "Make her suffer." Lea said smiling.

   Breanne just looked at the women and stopped herself from smiling.....



   *



   For six months they had bullied the slut.  They had stolen her mail. 
They made silent calls to her home in the middle of the night and fake
appointments to her business.  They had put her business number up among
other sex services.  Abbie had been quite proud of the way she'd announced
Ellie's death in the city papers.  When they were together, the women were
perfectly nice to the slut, except for Lea, who slapped her in the middle
of the street in front of everyone.  The plants in the garden were
poisoned. Then the for sale sign went up.  Abbie took it down and accused
Ellie of killing Carlos.  The phone calls continued except now they called
her a slut and a murderer.  The women replaced her mail with notes telling
her to die.  Any prospective buyers for the house were quietly told about
Ellie's dubious `interests' in children or animals or Abbie would make a
play for the husband.  The buyers were soon gone.  They made her life hell.

   Finally it happened.  The slut snapped.  She was no more.  The women all
told the police about the gunshot and finding the body of Ellie Stewart in
the kitchen.  The handgun was on the floor.  Gunpowder tests proved that
Ellie had pulled the trigger herself.  The women, like good neighbours,
arranged the funeral and weren't surprised to find they were the only ones
there.

   As the car left the cemetery and left Ellie Stewart to burn in hell,
Breanne thought of how nice it would be for the Lane now.



   *



   Breanne had thought they were the workers when she saw them.  Two men.
Black.  Negroes.  Both standing at the front door of the slut's old house.
She wasn't racist, but felt that people had their place.  The Lane was not
a place for people of a darker complexion.  She saw the other do the usual
routine of welcoming the new neighbours and duly did the same.  Then she
stood back and watched.

   She watched the Lane and everything she had built up be eroded.  First
it was Sarah, and the cause was obviously her daughter Jenny who was going
out with the son.  She watched the girl begin to demean herself as the
clothes and the behaviour got sluttier.  Jenny was almost having sex in the
street with the negro!  Breanne would put that well-practised smile on in
public but inside she couldn't believe what she was seeing.  It was just
wrong.  Strangely it was around this time she started having the dreams. 
The black boy was in them, as was Jenny.  They were doing filthy, dirty
things and Breanne was watching and unbelievably enjoying what she was
watching.  In the dreams she was behaving every bit the slut as Jenny. 
Then a familiar face looked up and it wasn't Jenny anymore, it was
Ellie.....

   Breanne carried on the pretence of normality but found it more difficult
to ignore Sarah's growing need for wine.  There seemed to be a constant
slur in her voice and a blurriness in her eye.  She drunk more than she was
sober.  And Jenny didn't seem to care for anyone but that young negro.  One
by one she began to watch the little group fall apart until she decided to
take charge again.  She would things back in track again.  The world of the
Lane would be perfect again.  The poker games were called for.  It might
not happen instantly but she would bring them together again.  No matter
what it took, she would bring them all together and they would see off the
new threat.

   Except it didn't quite happen that way.

   As Sarah fell into a bottle and Jenny whored herself out to a black boy,
Lea and Abbie started to drift away.  She watched the young negro start
work for Abbie, and soon was seeing him going straight into the house.  The
garden was looking ignored despite all the time he spent there.  And Lea?
What had happened to her?  Breanne saw she was alone now.  She was the only
one who could save them all.

   The dreams came back.  This time the women were surrounded by dark
faces. And Breanne was screaming at the others as they walked away from her
into the dark crowd.  As she heard the cries and gasps she could see one
white face watching her.  Ellie was laughing as a negro was behind.  They
were doing that dirty act, like dogs.....

   Sleep was becoming difficult.  As soon as she drifted off she saw them.
Jenny spreading her legs, naked as the day she was born.  Abbie was on her
knees giving a negro oral pleasure.  Lea was having sex as the line of
negroes waited to take their turn.  And Breanne couldn't help but watch and
want it herself, except that she was on a leash that was held by the slut,
Ellie.

   On waking up Breanne found herself doing something she hadn't done in
years.  She had to rub herself.  The disgusting want was too overpowering.
It got it out of her quickly.  As morning came she found herself watching
the neighbours.  The white women she had called friends were going back and
forth in and out of the place.  She had to get them out.  They were black,
maybe they sold drugs?  An anonymous tip could bring the police around. 
But what if they found nothing?  Social services might be useful for Sarah
and Jenny but that wouldn't get the negroes out, just cause trouble for
Sarah.  Breanne looked at the house.  First Ellie now them.  How could she
get rid of these damn niggers!

   The dreams got worse.  Sarah was drinking from a bottle but it wasn't
wine.  The liquid was white and thick and Jenny was encouraging her.  Abbie
and Lea were lost in a sea of black bodies and still Ellie was overseeing
the horrible orgy.  Breanne found herself taking part.  Spread out, naked
as an army of naked black men were approaching her.  She could see their
penises, and Ellie getting each one erect by hand.  As she woke up, Breanne
found she was having an orgasm.....

   She spent a good half-hour under the water in the shower.  She needed to
cleanse herself and get rid of the dirty, filthy thoughts.  They had
invaded her world and her dreams.  She had to cleanse Mysteria Lane of
those fucking niggers!



   *



   The group was split now.  Breanne found Lea refused to take her calls or
even look at her.  Like Jenny she had whored herself to the negroes.  Abbie
was doing the same.  And Sarah?  What good was that drunk?  It was time. 
This would end.  The niggers would go.  Breanne walked into the cellar and
approached the door at the far end.  She unlocked it and put the light on.
The four computer screens were dark but the computers were still on as she
wanted.  They never stopped working, recording then burning the video files
to disks that lined a bookcase next to the computers.  Rex's money done
good.  Breanne switched them on and saw the screens flicker into life.  The
cameras were still working fine, recording everything that happened in her
`friends' homes....

   Lea's house came into shot and Breanne watched impassively as Lea was on
her back.  The nigger, the father, was on top of her.  Breanne didn't need
to turn the sound on to understand the words coming out of Leas's mouth. 
Dirty, filthy words.  How many hours were there of Lea letting that black
bastard treat her like a whore?  Breanne shook her head.

   Sarah's house was next.  Breanne changed the cameras until she found
Sarah passed out in her bedroom.  The house looked like a garbage truck had
emptied into it.  "Such a shame," Breanne muttered.

   Abbie house was clean.  She wasn't in.  Breanne had noticed that Abbie
hadn't spent much time at home recently.  Always going somewhere.  The
black boy hadn't been doing any work there for some weeks, not even
pretending.  Breanne could remember the better times they had in those
homes.  The more decent times before the slut had started to destroy things
and the niggers had carried on the pillage.

   The slut's house was next.  Now the nigger's house.  The computers had
recorded everything that happened in there.  She could remember the sight
of Jenny splaying her naked body open as the young negro took pictures. 
Lea being brutalized over the kitchen table by the older one.  The front
room was empty but a few clicks and Breanne saw Jenny, naked, on her knees
in the young negro's room.  Two young black men were with her, their
members were in her hands.  On the bed she saw the brunette going down on
the young black boy Jenny called a boyfriend.  As naked as the rest of
them. The woman looked up and Breanne saw it was Abbie.  She watched in
disappointment as Abbie crawled up the young black body and let him enter
her.  Suddenly one of the other black males with Jenny broke away and
walked towards the bed.  Breanne looked away.  "Whores," she said.

   She would force them out.  She would threaten to expose them to the
world.  The negroes would have to go.  She went to the bookcase.  Looking
through the discs she found the case she wanted, and found it empty. 
Breanne was surprised.  She had put the disc here herself.  No-one else
knew about them.  She looked through the rest of the cases.  All of them
were empty.  How could that happen?

   There was one disc.  The words on it said simply, `PLAY ME'.

   Nervously, Breanne put it into one of the computers and saw there was a
video file on it.  She clicked on it.  The screen was filled with a shot of
her sitting in the small room, watching the screens.  Breanne didn't
recognise herself.  There was a wanton, hungry look on her face.  She was
rocking back and forth as she watched the computers.  The woman on the
screen could not be her.  That woman looked like she wanted what she was
seeing.  She looked like a slut.  "No...." Breanne muttered.  The picture
changed.  The older negro was sitting on the sofa in the front room..  He
was naked, sitting back his arms on the back of the sofa as a young, white,
blonde female was between his legs, her head bobbing up and down.  "Hi,
bitch." he smiled out the screen at Breanne.  "You've been a bad girl.  We
found the cameras when we moved in.  It was easy to trace the signal. 
You've been spying on your neighbours.  Yes, I have the discs and, yes,
I've looked at them.  We all have.  A lot of it dull as shit, but the some
of it...." the older negro nodded proudly.  "I didn't know I looked so good
fucking a white bitch." She watched as the naked body of his son walk into
shot, handing over a bottle of beer.

   "Think she'll see this?" the younger one asked sitting next to his
father.  The young woman sat up and turned to the son's penis.  Breanne saw
it was Jenny.  She watched the girl slowly giving hand relief to the father
and son.

   "She'll see it." the father said as he took a mouthful of beer.  "Bitch
probably fingers herself over those every night."

   "You want some black magic, just come on over." the son grinned and took
a drink from his beer.

   "Nah," the older one shook his head.  "You saw the videos, she doesn't
get any.  Bitch don't deserve it."

   The son looked down at Jenny whose head was moving up and down on his
lap now.  "Yeah, pops.  Pussy's probably not a good as this hot bitch's."

   Breanne blinked in shock as she saw Jenny raise a thumb.

   "One last thing before you wreck the joint, Breanne." the father smiled.
"There was also this."

   The picture changed.  The slut was sitting at the kitchen table. 
Breanne saw herself standing there.  She didn't hear the words as could
still hear them from memory.  She watched herself watching the slut put the
gun in her mouth then.....

   It went back to the negroes and the young slut called Jenny.  "Bye-bye,
baby." the father winked.  Breanne threw the screen from the table and
sobbed as it smashed.  They would never leave.  They had them all.  Breanne
looked at the other screens and smashed each of them in anger.  Then looked
up at where the camera that had been sneaked into her own home might be. 
"BASTARDS!" she screamed.  GOD-DAMN BASTARDS!"



   *



   She watched them for months.  The whores around her came and went in the
negroes house.  No, their pimps house.  They knew she had seen the disc
now. She had found the camera and ripped it out.  But they knew.  She
watched the young negro one night, straing right at her he stood on the
front of the house and put his...  thing into Jenny's mouth.  He stared
right at Breanne as he used her young mouth like another hole for sex. 
What made it worse was Jenny looking at her after he'd finished.  She was
smiling.

   They had won.....



   *



   Breanne glanced at the small box on the kitchen table and poured herself
another glass of wine, not stopping until the liquid neared the top of the
glass.  She put the bottle down and stared at it then at the wine in the
glass.  Was this how easy it was to become an alcoholic?  She'd watched
Sarah do just that.  Maybe it was some kind of guilt.  Breanne didn't see
why.  Ellie Stewart deserved to die.  After what she had done to all of
them she deserved to die in a much worse way than she did.  What happened
to Ellie was justified.  She had a choice.  Sure, they had all pushed her
that way.  The women had made sure her business failed and had made sure
those little rumours had made their way all over town.  After all, Ellie
had spread her slutty legs for all their men and tried to worm her way into
all their lives.

   She deserved to die.

   Breanne took a sip of the wine.  All she had done was try and protect
the Lane.  She couldn't allow a whore like Ellie to ruin the way of life
here.  It was better off with Ellie and those men gone.  Well, it would
have been if it wasn't for those so-called women.  The stronger sex, she
thought and smiled.  One was living in a bottle, one was no better than
that slut who'd do anything for those niggers across the road.  Breanne had
seen her creeping over at night, she knew what was going on in that house.
She'd done her own creeping and saw her `good friend' whoring herself with
both those `men'.  Sometimes there was more than just them there.  Some
`friends' were taking part.  the thought of it made Breanne sick.  The
third one was....  Well, Breanne wasn't really surprised at the brazen
behaviour from the latino.  She always would do anything for money. 
Breanne shouldn't have been surprised.  The slut had been a model and
Breanne didn't know of a single model who wouldn't sell herself for money.

   And then there was her.  She had always held herself in such pride at
how she behaved.  Breanne put the glass to her lips and sipped again.  And
how she had behaved.  She lifted the glass and gulped the wine down.  The
memories of that night came back and she thought of that large, black
penis. She remembered how felt inside her, and how she'd begged for it.

   Just like that slut.....

   What made it worse was the dreams she been having.  No, the nightmares
she'd been having.  Ellie and those black man were in her mind.  Her own
body was betraying her.  She couldn't stop thinking about them.  About
their penises.  About them raping her.  So what if her arms and legs were
wrapping themselves around them, and she could hear her own voice begging
for more.  Her mind was screaming `no'.  They was raping her and her mind
was screaming at him to stop!  But her body?

   Breanne looked down at her own body.  Just thinking of those nightmares
meant her body was getting excited again.  She could feel the throb of
pleasure begin between her legs.  She wondered if this was how the slut had
felt.  She'd been at her own kitchen table when she died.  Breanne had
watched her do it.  Told her to do it.  The whispers had done their work.
No woman would leave their men in her company.  Then there was the little
story about how Ellie was quite proud of how many young `boys' had become
young `men' thanks to her.  Breanne smiled as she remembered seeing the
police at the slut's door over that one.

   And then it all went to hell.  When those people arrived.  She glanced
over to the negroes house.  Was Lea in there now, she wondered.  On all
fours like a dog?  Maybe she was on her knees and using her wide lips. 
Breanne never noticed before but Lea had the kind of lips that screamed
whore.  The lights from a car passed by the window.  It stopped where
Abbie's house was.  Another customer, Abbie, she thought.  So brazen.  She
knew what was going on there.  Anything for money with Abbie.  They had
sent her links on the internet.  she'd found those videos of a certain
latino whore.  She wasn't really surprised, Abbie was one of `those people'
really.  They would do anything for money.  Anything....

   The Lane had once been so nice.  So decent.  Then came the slut and then
came the negroes.  With their friendly talk and filthy ways.  She felt the
throb between her legs again.  No, she thought.  Breanne knew what would
happen She poured herself another full glass of wine and downed it in one.
She'd be over there at some point again.  Being no better than the sluts
around her.  They were no better than Ellie Stewart.  Well, Breanne Van
Helinger was not a slut and she was not a drunk.  She was not a whore.  She
would end all of them.  Breanne opened the box and looked at the envelope
inside.  It was her confession and her accusations.  they would all have to
answer for what they had done.

   She engineered Ellie Stewart's suicide because she had simply had their
men.  They'd pushed and prodded and made that bitch kill herself.  It
wasn't bullying or intimidation, it was simple justice.  She had tried to
disrupt their lives so they had ruined hers.  Even when Ellie tried selling
up they managed to stop that too.  Who wants to deal with a woman who's no
better than a child abuser or a drug dealer, right?  All it took was a few
whispers and possible rumours.  The four of them played that bitch right to
the end like she'd played them.  They had all stood there in that kitchen
looking at the slut's body in the end.  They knew what they were doing and
how it would end.  The drunk and the slut and the prostitute would be
exposed.  Even their so-called `victim', the bitch would be shown up for
the lying, cheating whore she was.  And the negroes, no, the niggers?  To
hell with all of them, Breanne took the gun from under the envelope, put it
into her mouth and tasted the meta.  She closed her eyes and pulled the
trigger....



   One Year Later



   The moving van slowly pulled out and drove away leaving the family with
their new house.  It had waited for the car in front to go after the
occupants, two young black men, had stopped pointing at their phones and
looking back at the house they'd just walked out from with a spring in
their step.  "Still can't believe the price of it," Gillian Helmdale said,
eyeing their new home as she slid an arm around her husband's waist.  She
looked at the house the young men had walked out from and could swear she
saw someone looking out at them.  The grass needed cutting.  The curtains
moved as whoever it was must have vanished inside.  She gave him a gentle
squeeze.  "You sure about--"

   "Bad memories, I expect." Dean Helmsdale told her again.  "Would you
want to live in the same place your mother drank herself to death?" "Poor
woman."

   "Selfish more like." Dean replied.

   "The woman had lost her friend, I'm told." Gillian told him.

   "Yeah," her husband nodded.  "Some friend.  Kills herself, and DOESN'T
leave anything to explain it.  That's just as bad and selfish.  Then mommy
dearest goes and drinks herself into a grave while her daughter is pregnant
and all she cared about was were the next bottle was.  Don't blame her for
moving out.  But, hey, look at the place.  There's no real trouble, the
collages and schools are excellent.  A wonderful garden there," Dean
continued, pointing towards the ceremonial garden between the houses. 
"We'll put some happiness back in the place." he said.  "The agent that
sold it lives three doors down so it can't be all bad."

   "Oh, yeah." the blonde woman in her 40's nodded.  "What was her name
again....?"

   "Lea Colby."

   Gillian nodded, remembering the obviously pregnant woman now and looked
around her.  The street did look peaceful.  It looked like the kind of
place you could bring children up in.  It even felt safe.  Her eyes stopped
on the house across the way.  Two black men, one older than the other were
standing in the door watching them.  The men smiled and waved.  She smiled
back and gave them a nod.  "Thanks for the help." she called over.  they
been good enough to help out with moving their stuff in.

   "Beers later, Alan?" Dean said again and the older black man smiled and
nodded.

   "MOM!"

   Gillian looked up as a window on the first floor was slammed open and a
young blonde girl put her head out.  "Chelsea says she's getting this
room!"

   "Oh, boy." Dean sighed.

   A dark-haired girl pushed past the blonde in the window.  "We tossed for
it and SHE lost!" she replied.

   "Jeez," Dean said.  "Keep the voices down!" he told the girls.  He
turned back to the black men and shrugged.  "Sisters.  What can you do?" he
smiled.

   "You want to try a son." the older black man called Alan grinned back
and put his arm around the younger one.

   Dean put his hands into his pockets and began heading in to deal with
the `crisis'.  Gillian looked back at the black men and shrugged a silent
`sorry'.  She found herself having trouble looking away from the older one,
and then saw the younger man, the son, was smiling at the window were her
two teenage daughters had just been.  Something made her glance down at
their crotches before quickly pulling her gaze away.  A thought had entered
her mind just then.  Did she she see movement there?  A slight movement? 
Nah, she thought, shaking her head.  It was simply her imagination playing
with her.  Her husband was right.  The place was perfect......