Ladybug’s Redemption

Don’t mess with Mama

Trigger Warning: This fiction piece contains kidnapping, gun use and sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.

Imogen leaned back on her rusted truck door, cradling the shotgun with one hand against her leg and holding her cigarette with the other. It was a cold morning: cars in driveways had frost on the windshields and the sun was hardly winking pink in the sky.

The 40-something redhead took a satisfying drag of her smoke and blew the toxins back into the air around her. She reveled in the peace she was about to shatter, consequences be damned. She would be spilling blood today.

As silent as the morning, Roy was by her side. She didn’t show it on her face, but the sudden appearance of her brother-in-law made her heart jump from fright.

“Jesus, Roy.” She muttered around her cigarette. “You’re like a ghost.”

Roy shrugged, his face as hardened as her own. They both understood the plan.

She looked at him and asked, “All the neighbors good?”

Roy gave a curt nod. “No one will hear or see a thing.”

Imogen took one, long and final drag of her smoke before dropping it on the street and crushing it under her boot. She looked at Roy and said, “Be ready, you hear?”

She walked across the street, her steps making soft thuds against the concrete. She could hear the truck door open and shut behind her, then the engine roar to life.

“I’m coming, Ladybug.” She thought to herself, rage boiling in her stomach. “Mama’s coming. You just hold on.”

The police had proven as useless as her ex-husband when she’s reported Ladybug missing. Waking up to her teenager’s empty bed wasn’t normal, but when trying to explain that to anyone who’d listen, she started to believe she was crazy.

“Teenagers run away all the time.” The chief had told her in a condescending voice. “Nothin’ special about your Bug, honey. Just sit tight; she’ll be back.”

“What did you say to Ladybug to make her run away?” Greg, her ex-husband, had accused. “God, Imogen! This is why I left you; you’re a horrible mother!”

Three days after Ladybug went missing, Imogen was smoking at the kitchen table when something clicked. It was a “lightbulb” moment, a sudden moment of clarity.

She knew who had taken her daughter.

She dialed Squish Em’ Pest Control.

“Thank you for calling Squish Em’ Pest Control! This is Steven, how can I help you?”

“Yes, Hi!” Imogen responded as brightly as possible. “I’m a customer of yours and I’m unfortunately having a bit of an ant problem even though I was sprayed just last week. I was wondering if I might be able to have someone come out and spray again?”

“Of course we can help, Ma’am!” Steven said. “what’s your address so I can look up your information?”

Imogen gave her address and could hear the clicking of a keyboard as Steven looked up her account.

“Ok, Ma’am, it looks like Brian was the one to spray your home last week. And you said you’re having a problem with ants?”

“Yup, ants everywhere!” Imogen said with a shaky voice.

“Well, we can have someone come out today. Looks like Mike is available to spray your place at around 2pm. Does that work for you?”

“NO!” She yelled, before stuttering, “Um… I mean, Brian always sprays my house, so he knows it really well. Can’t he come out and do it?”

She sensed some hesitation from the other end of the line before Steven answered. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but Brian is on vacation. I’m sure Mike can help you with your pro…”

She hung up, then dialed Roy.

A former solider in the Marine Raiders, Roy had seen and participated in many a mission that would be the stuff of nightmares for Stephen King himself. He’d listened as Imogen relayed everything. He bristled at the cowardice and complacency of his little brother, Greg, and not being more worried about Ladybug.

“I’m on it.” was all he answered before he hung up.

He drove three hours into town and found Squish Em’ Pest Control’s building. Once night fell and everything around was closed down, breaking into the place was easy. He found his way into the Manager’s Office, thinking he would have to crack some password to get into the company's computer. Luck was on his side when he noticed an old-fashioned filing cabinet behind Steven’s desk and the top drawer was labelled Employee Files. It wasn’t even locked.

Luck continued to smile on Roy as the very first file in the row was marked Avers, Brian.

“Gotcha, you sorry bastard.”

Imogen had gotten dressed and ready after her quick conversation with Roy. She went to the bank and drained her savings account of every penny: a grand total of $120,000.00.

The bank teller, Fred Thomas, was reluctant about closing her account and handing over all that cash.

“You see, Miss, we, uh… we’re unable to close such a large account so quickly.” He stammered while he adjusted his tie nervously. “There are procedures and paper, uh… work…”

Imogen leaned back in her chair and stared coldly at Fred. Without blinking she pulled a cigarette out of her purse, brought it to her lips and lit it.

“Uh… you can’t do that, Ma’am!” Fred objected.

“No? How silly of me.” She waved the cigarette around. “Can’t smoke in a bank or anywhere indoors nowadays.”

She took another drag and slowly blew the smoke towards Fred, who continued to look frazzled.

She leaned in close. “There are things we can’t do, Fred. There are also things we shouldn’t do, right? For instance, I can’t smoke in a bank, that’s the rule. I can’t close my account with all these procedures this bank puts in the way of me getting my money.”

She paused for a second before she grinned wickedly at the pale-faced teller.

“But those things we shouldn’t do… aren’t they something?” She continued, lowering her voice in a husky whisper. “For instance, you’re married to a beautiful woman and have two of the sweetest children. Your father-in-law set you up with this perfect job at a high wage. Hell, he even helped you with all the things you needed to buy that nice home y’all just bought last month.”

“What are y-you gettin’ at?” Fred adjusted his tie again.

“With all that happiness and success in your life, Fred, you really shouldn’t be one of my best paying customers.” She leaned back again and took a dramatic drag of her cigarette. “What would your poor wife think? Or your Bishop? Or your father-in-law…”

Imogen stepped out of the bank and squinted her eyes against the morning sun. Her large handbag was $120,000 richer without any fees or questions from the bank, all thanks to her cam-girl work and OnlyFans page.

As she drove off, she wondered if Fred was going to deactivate his account.

Roy arrived at the house to collect the money and do some recon in Brian’s neighborhood. Once he had the lay of the land, it took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to break that bastard’s door down and do unthinkable things to him.

“No” he thought to himself. “Can’t scare this creep off. Wait, do the job right.”

He went around to the neighbors, knocking on doors and pushing his way in. Most were terrified at first, until he would flash the bills with a very lucrative offer.

There’s going to be some noise very early tomorrow morning. Pretend you hear nothing and double whatever I’m holding is yours. Ask no questions and answer “I don’t know” when the police come sniffing around.

Brian’s neighbors were more than happy to agree. He was a blight on the community and many of them probably could’ve been bought with a lot less.

Estelle, an 85-year-old widow with tufts of white hair rolled into bright, pink curlers stashed the $5,000 from Roy in her robe pocket and simply asked, “Do you need a gun that can’t be traced? Might have something you can use in the garden shed in the back.”

Roy was taken aback and the old woman started cackling. She wiped her eyes and said, “Dear, you can’t be a widow at my age in this place without some form of defense. Help yourself, but don’t forget to lock the shed back up.”

He’d thought she’d been kidding when he went into the shed and couldn't see anything at first. His eyes adjusted and he saw it leaning in a corner, just behind an old lawnmower: a Hatfield SAS 20 gauge semiautomatic shotgun.

He grabbed the firearm, locked the shed behind him and made his way back to Imogen’s place.

Imogen’s heart pounded against her ribs as she rang the doorbell once, twice, three times in rapid, annoying procession. With the shotgun cradled in both hands, she steadied herself on her feet.

It felt as though she was waiting for hours when she heard a shuffle from behind the door and a slurred “Who is it?”.

The hair on her neck stood on end as she recognized the voice of her daughter’s abductor.

“Sir, this is the fire department. We got a call of a possible fire at this address. Could you open the door and answer some questions?” She called out in her most confident voice. She was thankful his door didn’t have a peep-hole.

“There’s no fire here. Go fuck yourself!” came the answer from behind the door.

“Sir, open this door now!”

A few moments passed before she noticed the knob turn. She felt as everything began to move in slow motion: as the door squeaked open a sliver, she caught a flash in the eye of Brian as he peeked at her. His eye opened wider as she brought the gun up to his face.

“The safety is off and I’ve got a round directed at your head, asshole!” She hissed through gritted teeth. “WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!”

A second later his face disappeared and Imogen kicked the door open. Instinct took over and she ran after the bastard with the gun still in the ready. She could see him running down a hall and before she had time to think, she pulled the trigger.

The bullet grazed the side of his head and splintered a cabinet at the end of the hall. He fell to the ground, whimpering. She watched as he curled himself into a ball and tried to squeeze himself into a corner.

“You crazy bitch!” He yelled while pressing his hand on the bleeding flesh wound.

“LADYBUG!!!” Imogen called out into the dark house while holding tight to her weapon. “WHERE ARE YOU, BABY? LADYBUG!!!”

In between breaths, she could hear a faint but undeniable plea:

“HELP ME! I’M IN HERE!!!”

The cry was coming from behind one of the hallway doors.

Rage replaced nerves as Imogen marched up to Brian’s cowering figure and pressed the barrel of the gun to his head.

“Show me my daughter, NOW!”

Whimpering and swearing under his breath, he got up and reluctantly opened the door to his right. With the gun still pressed on his head, Imogen pressed him forward into the dark and musty room. On the bed was Ladybug wearing only a dirty cami and a pair of stained underwear. One of her wrists was handcuffed to the steel headboard.

Imogen almost lost her nerve: seeing her little girl in such a vulnerable state with her hair matted, dirty and a bruised face, it was obvious what this monster had been doing to her in the days she’d been missing.

The police, her ex husband and Brian had all had a hand in this.

She pushed the gun harder on the bastard’s head. “Unlock those cuffs, now.” She demanded in a low growl. “Or, I swear to god, I will blow your head off right now.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?” He stuttered as he reached in his pocket and held some keys in his shaky hands. “What are you going to do, huh? Kill me in front of your own kid?”

She had to steel herself: he was baiting her and the cries from Ladybug didn’t help. She felt sweat drip from her hands as she clutched the gun tighter.

“I believe the road to her healing will be paved with your brain matter and bits of your skull. Uncuff her, NOW!”

Brian walked around to the side of the bed with the barrel of the shotgun firmly pressed on the back of his head. He unlocked the cuff holding the battered girl and she scampered off the opposite side of the bed and ran to her mom.

“Hands where I can see them.” Imogen ordered. Brian's hands went up.

Without taking her eyes off the pervert, she ordered her daughter to go outside and get into the truck with her uncle. She listened as Ladybug’s bare feet padded quickly out of the house.

“Now, turn around and face me.” She ordered.

Brian slowly turned around with his hands still up. She was surprised to see a smirk on his face through the blood that poured from the small gash on the side of his head.

“What on earth do you have to be smilin’ about?!” She demanded.

“She wanted what I did to her, you know that?” He sneered. “She begged me to take her with her eyes that day I came to your house. I know when a girl wants me.”

Her stomach clenched with disgust at his words.

“You know that your little girl isn’t so innocent, right?” He continued arrogantly and as if a shot gun wasn’t aimed at his forehead. “I’ve made videos if you’d like t…”

She was surprisingly pleased with the pattern his blood and brains made on the bed.

Chief Westcott stared in awe of the burnt house as the fire crew made it’s way through the rubble after the blaze had been contained. He knew damn well what would be recovered and what people in this town would say about his nephew.

Unsurprisingly, all the neighbors had little information on what caused the fire.

He slowly made his way back to his cruiser and lumbered back to the station at 10 miles below the posted speed limit. He dreaded the paperwork and red tape that awaited him, so he made a detour to Bessie’s Diner.

In the booth, he cradled his hot mug of coffee and just stared at the apple fritter in front of him. Bessie’s donuts were the stuff of legend, but he found he had no appetite.

Brian had always been a troubled boy. He knew it would only be a matter of time before his actions had caught up to him. He’d tried to help, tried to hide what his nephew was. It had been all for nothing in the end.

He was relieved that Imogen had finally put a stop to this madness.

He rubbed his temple and steeled himself for the incoming storm. It was only a matter of time before the investigation would stumble upon all the other bodies in Brian’s basement.

THANK YOU so very much for reading my stuff! Fiction is something I enjoy writing and I’m trying my best to flex my creative muscles in this genre. I’d appreciate any and all feedback if you’d like to drop a comment!

Special thanks to my friends Shawn Ingram for inspiring me to get back into short form fiction and Gustave Deresse; Writer & AI Artist for the prompt! 😁

Please remember to take care of yourself today. Take a nap, drink a tasty cup of coffee, watch a movie… just do something for yourself today! You are important and you are loved!

I love you and there’s nothing you can do about it! Love ~ Dani ❤