The Preparation

“How are you feeling?” everyone always asked. I always replied, “I'm ok.” They would just smile in reply. Not a happy smile. Just to let me know they care. It hurt. Losing him. My best friend. We met in a different dimension, called the Noisrevni, and I wouldn’t have any of the friends I have now if it wasn’t for him. He was the only friend I couldn't lose. We lived well. We made the news, and we wrote a book about our time in the Noisrevni. That made us kind of famous. The books pulled in millions of dollars, and we wouldn't have to work for the rest of our lives. There was a break-in. They came during the day, but Elliot was sick, and I was taking care of him. We heard glass breaking in the Living room, and Elliot ran out to see what was going on. I heard a gunshot and ran out. "Sam," Elliot called weakly. I saw Elliot laying on the floor. There was already so much blood coming from his chest. I ran to him and sat down next to him. I pulled him into my arms. He weakly smiled at me and said, "Tis’ but a flesh wound. I'm ok." Then, he went limp. "No," I said, "Elliot stay with me, honey." Our house had an alarm system, and it was going off. The alarms automatically call the police. "Don't worry, Elliot, they're coming," I said, "Just stay with me." They took my Elliot. I don’t know who these people are, but I will find them. I will make them regret what they’ve done. That was my thought process when I was holding him. So here I am now. People say I need therapy and then I’ll feel better. I don’t need therapy. I’m not even hurting anymore. I just have to avenge my husband.

​

The Eureka

I can’t just sit by while the police do nothing. My friends that he helped me make. They’re all gone. They gave up on me. So I gave up on them. Now I search alone. Looking through catalogs and databases. I’ve become a proficient black hat hacker in the 4 years since Elliot’s death. I’ve been going through and hacking social media networks and trying to find anyone who talked about him. Who talked about killing him. Today, I think I found something.

​

The Adrenaline

On some burner number, there was a text. There was a conversation back and forth between these two. They were talking about Elliot. About how they didn't know why they were told to kill him. Their plan was to break in, kill him, and get out. They planned to do this during the day, when he'd be at work. I looked into both of these burner numbers, and one was registered to Macrohard Ltd. The other was registered to some company I’d never even heard of called “Pernicio”. I looked them up on Goggle Roadcharts. There weren’t any results at all. Just a simple Goggle search showed some short film of the same name. This phone company didn’t exist. I was very intrigued. Searching through the internet all day had apparently taken a bit of a toll on me because then I passed out from lack of sleep. 

​

The Anticipation

The next morning, I got up and started working. At my 3 monitor setup, I had a keyboard, and a mouse. I also had yesterday’s coffee which I promptly chugged. I needed all the energy I could get. Since Pernicio was a bust, I decided to search around in Macrohard’s database. This one was going to be tricky, since this is a multibillion dollar corporation. Luckily I’m not stupid, and I know how to cover my tracks. I eventually made it to their server that held millions of users’ data. Usernames, Passwords. I searched for the number. (770)574-2081 Well, the area code belonged to some town called Waco, Georgia, but the user’s listed address was 878 Old Pleasant Valley Rd, which was in Talking Rock, Georgia. I decided that I had to go to Talking Rock. I packed up my old truck, and set off. I had to stop for gas, but pretty soon I was on my way.

​

The Enmity

It was about a 5 hour drive. Lots of traffic. I don’t understand how people can just drive like this their whole lives. I finally reached the house at around 5PM. It was a nice house. Looked old, like it was built in the mid 80s, but still nice. It seemed pretty secluded, dirt road, long driveway, middle of a forest, the works. I knocked on the door and while I heard someone coming to answer it, all I could feel was rage. This dude killed my best friend. As soon as they answered, I was taken aback. I realized this probably wasn’t my guy. I didn’t know what to say. My thoughts were going a million miles a minute. “Do you know someone named Elliot,” I asked. “I had a son named Elliot. I’m sure we’re not talking about the same person because my son has been missing for nineteen years now.” Damn. “What’s all this about?” she asked. “I– I- lost someone,” was all I could get out. I started to bawl and I collapsed to my knees. She just stood in front of me, and waited for me to stop crying. Once I was done, she asked, “What’s your name, dear?” “Sam,” I replied through sniffles, “Samantha Selman.” She paused for a moment and then pulled me up. She was really strong. “I’m Beulah Elsher,” she said to me, “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in years. Let’s get you fixed up, dear.” She led me into her home.

​

The Lonely

It was warm here. Not like roasting hot, but more welcoming. It smelled like an old lady. She brought me to the living room and sat me on the couch. I was on a three seater. To my left was a huge Grandfather Clock.  Across from me was a loveseat that had one side that looked very worn down. Like someone sat in it for years. “You know, my son Elliot was about your age,” she said as she walked away. “Was my age?” I asked. Her footsteps stopped. “He went missing,” she replied in a sad tone, “one day he just ran away. Said he was looking for paradise. I haven’t seen him in nineteen years. He must have found it.” I couldn’t see Beulah, but I could hear her. The floors were very creaky. “So you’ve just been alone for nineteen years?” I asked. “Yeah,” she said. I could hear her coming back. She came into the living room with a box of tissues, and set them on the armrest of the couch I was on. She grabbed one of the tissues and started wiping my makeup. She continued, “but I get by. My husband died back in 2001, so it was just me and Elliot. Then nineteen years ago, Elliot left, so now it’s just me.” I felt bad for her. All alone. “I mostly just play sudoku. Nothing left for me to do here anymore,” she said, “I’ve served my purpose, and now I’m just waiting to die. I’m 83 now, so it shouldn’t be much longer.” “So you’ve given up?” I asked. She just smiled and said, “I don’t have anything left to give up on, dear. You’re the first visitor I’ve had since the police questioned me about Elliot’s disappearance.” She had finished wiping my makeup, grabbed another tissue, and gave it to me. “Blow your nose, dear,” she said. I grabbed the tissue and blew my nose. She sat down on the unworn spot of the loveseat across from me. “I’m really sorry all this has happened to you,” I said. She laughed and said “Oh, it’s no problem, dear. I’m stronger than I seem.” She paused for a moment. Then, she said, “So tell me about this Elliot fellow.”
 

The Stay

I told her all about Elliot. About what happened to him. About my friends’ reactions. About what I was trying to do. When I was done, she said, “I don’t know about all that, dear.” “What are you talking about,” I asked. “Well, what are you planning on doing once you find this person,” she asked, “it seems very dangerous if you ask me. You have your whole life ahead of you. In the end, vengeance never wins.” Suddenly the Grandfather Clock chimed. 8PM. “Oh my,” said Beulah, “already 8? Are you going to be ok to drive home? I have a spare bedroom if you want to stay here.” I was about to decline, but then I felt really bad for her. Beulah was probably really lonely. I asked, “You’re sure it’s ok if I stay here?” “Oh absolutely, dear,” Beulah said happily, “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in years, it would be my pleasure if you stayed here! How do you like your eggs cooked?” I felt so happy to see her get so excited. “Scrambled eggs are my favorite, but you don’t need to make me breakfast.” I said. She gave me a look and said, “Nonsense, dear. You are my guest. I will be your hostess.” I realized that she probably hasn’t been a hostess for anyone in years.

​

The Morning

I woke up the next morning at 3 AM. It was freezing cold. There was a small window on my left, and I couldn’t see out of it. It was foggy out there. Really foggy. I could hear the wind whistling through all of the trees. I had a feeling that I had to leave now. I had to leave, and so did Beulah. Then Beulah walked in the room. “Dear, we need to leave now,” she said. She had a very concerned expression on her face. “Do you know what’s going on?” I asked. Beulah started helping me get my stuff together. “There’s some bad fog outside. Put on your coat. A storm is coming. We need to take your truck." I started getting up, and I heard her old TV playing a news report, A category 2 hurricane was just spotted after the Atlanta radar went back up. "We can leave my things, but do you have a travel bag?" I asked. She smiled and said, "Just packed one last night, now that I have someone." I looked at her and smiled. "We'd better get going, dear. The storm is coming," she said as she handed me the keys. "Right," I said, "let's go." We both ran outside. The second we opened the front door, a freezing blast of air hit us. Beulah looked at my truck and said, "The storm isn't gonna get here for an hour, so we need to prepare this for the storm." "What do we need to do to it?" I asked. "It needs more weight," she said looking in the bed, "I have a log pile in the back. Go put some logs in the back. I'll help you back up," said Beulah. I got in and backed up to her shed. After that, I got out, and started putting logs in the bed. Beulah was grabbing some things from her shed. She said, "I'm going to have to drill some holes in your truck." "Wait what?" I exclaimed as I scrambled to my feet. "This needs to attach somehow," she said as she pulled an umbrella-like thing from one of the boxes, "during a storm, It can rain so hard you won't even be able to see." I looked at her. She's right. I said, "okay." After some more things, Beulah said that we were out of time, and it was good enough. I helped her into the passenger seat, and got into the driver seat. Just like that, we were off. She pulled out an old TomTom, and put it on my windshield. It was giving me directions to Kansas. "Follow that thing. I have a farm in Kansas," she said, "haven't been there in years, not since Elliot left. I only kept it because it reminds me of Elliot. Some man came around trying to buy it from me, but I put him in his place." I looked at the TomTom. It claimed this was going to be a 15 hour drive.

​

The Evacuation

Beulah was right. The rain started about 30 minutes into the drive. it was pouring. Beulah put the umbrella thing so that my windshield was sheltered, but I could still see. We hadn't even made it to the interstate yet. Both of the shoulders of the road were flooded over. "This is the worst one I've seen in years," said Beulah, her eyes glued to the window. It was starting to get bad. The truck was rocking a little, and I could hear all the dirt and rocks that were hitting the truck. it's getting scarier. Beulah had brought a little red handheld radio. It looked ancient. It had a dial for the tuner, and it had a little metal antenna that extended to the length of my arm. She had it tuned to the weather channel. The weatherman sounded so calm, considering he was talking about a life threatening hurricane. "We've been tracking this storm for the past 3 hours, and it shows no signs of slowing down. Hurricane Wilda is expected to be reaching speeds of at least 108 miles per hour. You're going to want to stay inside, and maybe even take shelter," he said, "Hurricane Wilda is past Atlanta, Georgia and is heading northwest." Beulah turned off the radio, and put it in the glove box. She looked sad. "Don't worry, we'll be safe," I said, trying to cheer her up. Beulah sighed and said, "I know we'll be safe, dear. It's my son that I'm worried about. I have no clue where he is." She didn't look away from her window. I didn't have any clue how to respond to that. Then, it happened. I lost control. I was busy looking at Beulah, and I didn't realize the road had flooded over, and I was going way too fast. A gust of wind hit the truck hard, and we strayed to the left. We were starting to face the right side of the road, and I turned the wheel all the way to the left. The truck swerved off the road, and we flipped.

​

The Separation

We flipped what felt like ten times. The airbags deployed, and I felt a sharp pain in my back. I looked over at Beulah, and saw her just holding on as tight as she could, closing her eyes. I was holding tight too. I looked forward again and closed my eyes. I didn't want it to end like this. I might have passed out for a minute or two because I don't quite remember us coming to a stop. When I finally caught my bearings, I looked over at Beulah. She had a busted lip, and blood running down her forehead. We must've been on the shoulder, because water was already rushing in. The truck had come to a stop on Beulah's side, so if I tried to unbuckle, I would fall on Beulah. Beulah was quickly soaked by the rainwater. She was unconscious. I tried to pull her up out of the truck, but my back surged with a sharp pain. The truck rocked from the wind and Beulah woke up. She looked at me and then down at her window. Beulah tried to move, but she winced and grabbed her right side. Then, she looked at me with a doomed expression. The water was rising. "Go," she said, "escape, dear. While you can." "No," I said, "it can't all end. Not here!" I tried to pull her out of her seat by her arm. She winced, and grabbed her side again. The wind rocked the truck again. "Dear, this isn't going to work, you need to get out before we tip over," she said, "I'm going to be fine." I melted down. "But you told me yourself you finally had someone to live for." I said. She calmly looked at me and said, "Dear, having someone to live for means I have someone to die for. Now you go, and save yourself. Remember, the storm is still on its way... The radio has an SOS button." Beulah reached into the glove box and held up her handheld radio. The tiny metal antenna had bent in the middle. "Take this, dear. It'll help you track the storm," said Beulah. I grabbed the radio. "What about you?" I asked. "Don't you worry about me. I'm going to see my husband again. It's been 21 years. I'm ready," she said as the water rose to her chin. "Thank you," she said, "Truly, Samantha Selman, thank you. I was always terrified of dying alone. Just know that vengeance never wins." She smiled at me as the water rose above her mouth and nose. She closed her eyes, and let the freezing cold consume her. The truck started rocking again. I tried not to fall apart as I unbuckled and scrambled out of the truck. It was like I was in the middle of a lake. The water was freezing cold. On the side of the truck, there was an emergency raft that Beulah had put on the rear door. I took it out, and tried to figure out how to get it to work. Beulah had shown me, but under all this pressure, I struggled to get it to work. Eventually, I pulled the string to open it. I got in the raft, pressed the SOS button, and collapsed.

 

The Diagnosis

I'm not exactly sure how long I waited. It felt like days. When I was finally found, I was laying in the raft. The people were trying to help me up, but my back was not ok. When they tried to help me up, my back made a cracking noise. I immediately felt like fire was cooking my spine and yelled in pain. The EMT looked at me and asked if I could feel my toes. She asked me to wiggle them. I did. The EMT looked relieved. They put me on a stretcher, and drove me in an ambulance. I made it to the hospital and got a few x-rays. I was told that I had compression fractures down my vertebrae. "You still are able to move your toes, which means you don't have any nerve damage," said the doctor, "you will need to take these pills daily for a month, and you'll need a back brace." The doctor turned to leave my hospital room. "I'm sorry about your mother," he said. His words dropped like a bomb. I was confused for a second, and then I realized he must’ve thought Beulah was my mother. "Oh, she wasn’t my mother," I said, "she was just a friend of mine." The doctor was still turned away from me, but he nodded. "Either way," he said, "I'm sorry… It's painful to lose." Then the doctor walked out. Something about the way he said that. It's painful to lose. It was off-putting. Maybe it just caught me off guard. That made me think about what Beulah said. Vengeance never wins. What did she mean by that? I know I came to the hospital with a broken back, but I'm going to leave with a riddle.

​

The Guilt

When I finally recovered, I went back to my house. I still had the little radio that Beulah gave me, but I had put it in a bag that I bought at the store, along with a few changes of clothes. When I was unpacking, I found the radio. I pulled it out, and turned it on. Static white noise filled the room. It was still tuned to the weather channel, but since I wasn't in range of that station, it was just white noise. I knew this, but in some way I felt like it was also just white noise because of Beulah. I had no way to talk to her anymore. I can’t know if she’s happy. We’re disconnected. I switched the radio off, and sighed. I felt so guilty. If I had been paying attention to the road, I wouldn't have crashed. Maybe Beulah wouldn't have died. The doorbell rang. I opened up, and there were two officers there. The one on the left looked like Danny DeVito's younger brother, and the one on the right was more resemblant to your average tall white guy. The tall one said, "Hello ma'am, I'm Officer Andrews, and this is my colleague, Officer Daniel." Officer Daniel tipped his hat and said, "Afternoon." "Hi, how can I help you," I asked. "We're here regarding the death of one Beulah Elsher," said Officer Andrews, "Is a mister or missus Selman here?" "I'm Ms. Selman," I said, "I am Samantha Selman. Would you like to come in?"

​

Vengeance Never Wins.

I honestly thought that the Officers were there to take me to prison for indirectly killing Beulah, but they told me I was her only surviving family. I was very surprised. They told me that Beulah was Elliot’s mother. When we left the Noisrevni, Elliot couldn’t remember his parents. We didn’t even know if we had any surviving relatives. And as it turns out, I was correct when I went to her house. The police told me that Beulah was the one who organized his murder. I couldn’t believe it. Beulah was the nicest, most innocent old lady I’ve ever met. There was no way that she could organize a murder. But the police had concrete proof. The police had found paper documents in Beulah’s home. They showed me all of the documents that Beulah had. They were plans. Satellite images of our house, and there were some with arrows drawn all around. These were obviously the attack plans. And suddenly it all made sense. I understood what she meant by vengeance never wins. If I had known she was actually the one behind all of this, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. I wouldn’t have the mental strength to hurt her. I wouldn’t have the willpower. When the officers left, they gave me their condolences. I cried. I cried a lot. And nobody was there to comfort me. I had cried every time there was a day that reminded me of him. Ever since he died, on his birthday, I would go to his favorite restaurant, Pineapplebees. He always got the chicken wings there. On our anniversary, I would go to the destroyed portal that was in our backyard. That is the spot where we left the Noisrevni. I sat down at my computer setup and saw the date. October 27th, 2021. Today was the 5th anniversary of Elliot’s death. That realization made me cry even more. I guess I wanted closure more than anything. And I wish I hadn’t tried to find the one who killed him. I will never know why Beulah wanted to kill her own son, but I don’t want to look anymore. I’m done suffering. I’m done with all of this torture. I need to move on, because no matter what I do, I’ll never have closure. Because in the end, Vengeance Never Wins.