Cynthia Kessler (Toy Obsession Series, Book 1) Read online

  It was now nearing recreation time, and Cynthia could think of no better opportunity to begin putting her strategy to work. Of course, she’d have to be careful, stealth in her pursuit.

  Already there were pockets of inmates sprawled about the courtyard engaged in this or that: some sat on the bleachers chatting while others played card games or dominoes. Of most interest to her were the stragglers, attached to nothing or no one. Cynthia made her way over to one inmate standing against a wall, her neck adorned with a red, green, and black dragon tattoo.

  “Mind if I stand here with you?” she asked the girl with the inked skin.

  “Suit yourself,” she answered without even acknowledging Cynthia. Her eyes remained fixed ahead.

  “Thanks. By the way, I’m Cynthia.”

  “I know who you are.” Cynthia was a bit startled by the admission.

  “How’s that?”

  “I was in the chow hall when things went down between you and Leila. Stupid move, real stupid.”

  “She’s a bully and she’s got to be stopped.”

  “She run things up here,” said the girl, finally looking Cynthia in her eyes. She looked to be around Cynthia’s age, early twenties.

  “She doesn’t have to…not if enough people fight back.”

  “Listen, I’ve been in here for a few years now. Nobody’s trying to fight back.”

  “So, she’s got to you, too?”

  “Nope, not me…”

  “But somebody you know?”

  “Yeap. If I could, I’d take that bitch out myself.”

  “That’s all I needed to know.” With a little more persuasion, Cynthia recruited her first crew member in Pip, who was doing time for fraud, running the gamut from bad check-writing to forgery to identity theft. She had already served three of her seven-year sentence, this extended stay the result of repeat offenses.

  “You do realize that this plan of yours is going to take more than the two of us to carry off,” Pip informed.

  With a cut of the eyes, Cynthia replied in a snarky tone, “Calling me stupid once already was more than enough. I don’t intend to go at this half-cocked. You are the first of many I hope to enlist. We must show strength and the best way to do that is in numbers. She’s going to have her army and I’ll have mine, and we’ll see who ends up standing on top.”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Pip. “So, who’s next on your list? I mean...I can think of a few who might want to get in on this.”

  “That works. Put the word out and let’s all meet up in the laundry in a few hours. We have to organize,” Cynthia instructed. “And remember to keep this on the low.” She issued that final reminder, a most important one, before walking off.

  Amped up about her progress, Cynthia would not waste away the next few hours before the secret meeting being non-productive. No, she would spend that time re-reading the copy of The Art of War that she had delivered from the prison library. It was a survival guide on psychological warfare. Whereas this confrontation could easily escalate into violence, she wanted to employ a different tactic in outsmarting her opponent. Having such a literary background—one that included having before read the book—would serve her well because she was sure that neither Leila nor any of her riffraff had ever read the work of Sun Tzu. They’d surely plan to outfight her while she expected to outwit them. Still, she was planning for the worse in recruiting allies. The gathering would only serve to strengthen that plan.

  At the precise time, Pip showed up in the laundry with five other inmates, none of whom Cynthia had ever seen on the block.

  “Gals, this is Cynthia,” said Pip, before introducing them one-by-one to her. “And this is Maria, Cleo, Deb, Patty, and Cookie.”

  “Thanks for showing up, ladies. I know how risky this is, but I suspect that you are here because you are tired of taking shit from Leila and her crew. So, yeah, I appreciate you being here.”

  Cookie, while lowering her eyes a bit like a coy school girl, raised her hand to speak. Not that it was required, Cynthia obliged by nodding her approval. “I-uh-I just want to say that I can’t die over this. I’ve got babies out there to think about.”

  “And that’s why we are organizing now,” Cynthia replied. “Listen, ladies, I hope not to resort to physical retaliation, but I’m not delusional. Leila will be going out for blood, your blood, my blood. If what I have in mind works out, I hope not the spill any of ours...”

  Cynthia proceeded to explain the full scope of things, and learned something about each of them that would aid in carrying all of it out successfully. For instance, Cookie, while a bit of an introvert, worked in a hospital as a nurse before helping one of her terminal patients commit euthanasia. Though what she did was wrong, it showed that she had compassion for others, such compassion is a key element of Sun Tzu’s treatise. Deb and Maria were the rebels, the brawn. Both were ex-gang members, having killed their share of rival gang bangers. It went without saying that they would need defenders if it came to that. Then, there was Patty, the oldest of the bunch, who had been inside for ten years already, serving a life sentence for killing her abusive boyfriend. She was also a bit of a strange bird, never saying much, but strange could be good in their cases.

  So, Cynthia now had her crew, and with a well-devised plan and a well-executed strategy, she had every confidence in taking down Leila and her band of bullies.

  Things were wonderful for a while after the professor and I returned to the campus. Every chance I got I would steal away to his office to seduce him or be seduced, which is what he preferred. He’d pin me against the wall or in a corner, slowly unbutton my blouse, exposing my skin to the gentle touch of his fingers, and trail the curvatures of my body with hot kisses. In the throes of passion, I’d end up sprawled across his desk, where he’d ravish me from top to bottom. I was completely surrendered to him.

  This went on for a few weeks until things changed: one minute we were sharing a bed and the next it was over. It left me damaged and changed to the point that I became a different person. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience. That “me” was not me at all. That me was working with very little rationale. That me couldn’t accept that he had rejected her.

  My answer to the rejection was to stalk this man—send him letters, leave messages on his answering machine. I didn’t care if his wife knew, and obviously, she did or he would not have cut me off so abruptly. I went to his office constantly, but he’d never be there. The only time I’d see him was in class, and he’d rarely even make eye contact. He’d pretend I was not even there, like I was a pimple on a log, so small it was hardly relevant or worth notice. And this enraged me even more. So, one day after class, I decided to confront him after everyone had left.

  “But why?”

  “Madame Kessler, please. I have a meeting. We must discuss this at a more appropriate time.”

  “No, I want to discuss this now! I’ve left you tons of messages. How could you just end it? How?”

  “Not now,” he replied, rustling up his things before disappearing out into the hall, the heaviness of his footsteps lessening the further away he’d gotten until there was only silence.

  I’d been used, been a mere plaything. Now, he was tired of playing and wanted nothing more to do with me. He no longer even appreciated me as his pupil. I was tainted, tainted by him, ironically.

  He had no idea who he’d just shattered. People ought to be careful who they hurt, who they use then toss aside like trash. If he thought the measures I’d taken to get him were something, he’d regret those I’d take to make him pay. He’d regret ever spurning me. I shouted what I was thinking aloud, “You hear that, professor? You’ll regret this!”

  After confronting him, I allowed a couple of weeks to pass without making any moves. I was a strategist at heart, and knew he’d think the matter was settled. He’d go back to his safe little world, back to his wife, back to pretending that the affair never happened. And though it lasted only a brief while, it was very rea
l. It did happen, and no, I was not about to pretend that it did not. For any of this to work—what I had planned for him—I had to remove his sense of security. I had to alienate him from the things about which he most cared, and I knew exactly where to start.

  He told me that he had never been unfaithful to his wife, but they all said things like that. They assumed that’s what we wanted or needed to hear, or that’s what they told themselves so they’d feel less guilty. I was not delusional. I knew there had to be more women out there who he had damaged in some way, those who were afraid to speak up because of his status and, too, because going public always seemed to backfire on those coming forward. Somehow, someway, I’d convince them to do my work for me.

  Lots of digging paid off when I located one of his victims still living in the city. After their tryst, she transferred to another university on the other side of town. She agreed to meet me at a café near her campus, and I was anxious to hear her story.

  She had already been seated when I arrived. For the middle of the day, on a weekend, it was relatively quiet. Only a few other patrons occupied the tiny space. If privacy was her intent, then she’d have that.

  I approached the booth where she sat. “Kiara?”

  She smiled faintly before replying, “Yes, I’m Kiara.”

  “I’m Cynthia,” I said, sitting across from her. “Have you been waiting very long?”

  “No, not at all.” She was rather exquisite. Blue eyes and raven hair, olive skin.

  “Thanks for meeting me. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

  “It’s not,” she replied before taking a sip of her java.

  “Excuse me for a second,” I said to her. I then beckoned the waiter over to take my beverage order, which he did promptly, before continuing our conversation. “Again, thanks for coming, but tell me, if this is hard for you, then why are you doing this? Why did you agree to meet me?”

  Again, she smiled slightly before releasing a long sigh. “You know, I thought transferring to another university would help me put all of that behind me. I told myself that it didn’t mean anything. He didn’t mean anything to me. I had a new start somewhere different at a place where no one knew my face or what I’d done. And there was truth in that, but...” She paused for a few seconds. “But I knew. I was willing to keep this secret, even though it has been eating away at me since it all happened. I was willing to keep quiet until I received your phone call. I don’t know how you found me, but I’m glad you did. Back then I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know if he had done this before or would do it again. I wanted only to forget, but it’s obvious I cannot.”

  “When exactly did it happen?” I asked her. By now, the waiter had returned with a steaming cup of coffee and warm bagel.

  “It was a couple of years back in my sophomore year. I’d taken one of his literature classes. I was mesmerized with his teaching. He seemed so passionate about the things he taught. I was drawn to that.” I nodded as she told the story of them. She sounded like me. Her story was my story, but we were not the same. She would never do the things that I planned to do. It was up to me to avenge all those who he had shattered. She did, however, want to do what she could do to help. And when I learned that she had friends who were staffed on her campus’ school paper, I knew then that that’s how she could assist me.

  “You said you that know people who work on your school paper. Well, I need you to get one of them to do an exposé about one of the professors at the rival university who has been rumored to have had affairs with some of his students. It must not come back to you in anyway. I just need you to have them put it out there, and say that the source wishes to remain anonymous, but that the allegations are very real. Can you do that?”

  “Why would our paper do an exposé on a rival school?”

  “First of all, it’s a rival school, as in rival. Second, you will need to spin it as a public service announcement against that type of behavior and encourage those who believe that this may be occurring on your own campus to speak up about it. So, can you do that?”

  “Yes,” she finally agreed. It was done. The first stage of my plot was taking shape. It was likely that the rumor would get back to him, but not necessarily implicate him. Still, he’d know that his little bubble, the one that he now thought was again secure, was very fragile. I only wanted to remind him of that…for now. I still had other plans, much bigger plans for him.

  Although my crew was eager to face off with Leila, I bid my time to confront her. I wanted to let her think that she had won, to throw her off my scent. And whenever the time came, I would not employ her cowardly tactics of blindsiding. I would instead look her square in the eyes. After three weeks of doing nothing, I eventually confronted Leila in the shower stalls.

  “You don’t want none of this!” she said, narrowing her eyes, trying to invoke fear in me. I wasn’t afraid.

  “Oh, so now you’re going to jump me like a woman this time and not like some scared little bitch from behind like before, huh, Leila?”

  “Bitch, please. Ain’t nobody scared of you,” she said, flashing a knife in front of me. She wasn’t the only one prepared, though. Not only was I trained in martial arts, but I also had a blade secured at the back of my pants just waiting to be freed. Still, I hoped that I didn’t have to use it.

  “You know, Leila, things didn’t have to be this way,” I reasoned, trying to infuse a bit of psychology into the situation. If I could reach just an ounce of rationale in her, then maybe this didn’t have to resort to any killing.

  She had other things in mind, of course. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re about to get mangled. Now, all of a sudden, you want to get friendly?” Though her words were harsh, I could tell that she was getting nervous, tossing the blade from hand to hand, her crew in the background urging her on to make a move, mine own at my side to cover me, if needed.

  “You still have time to back out, Leila. Don’t be stupid. You know I’m crazy.”

  Not completely falling for these “mind tricks,” she began to swing at me, though missing, as I made defensive moves to counter. The crowd grew louder with those roaring in her favor, some in mine. Still, no guards—either they were unaware of what was going down or were refusing to bust things up. Occasionally, when a fight broke out, the guards would allow whatever to transpire. They didn’t want us there anymore than we wanted to be there anyway, so the lesser of us, the better.

  Hoping to gain a leg up, a member of her crew blew some type of dust into my face and gave her the opportunity to slice her blade into my left side, drawing blood. I tried not to focus on the sting of the wound; I had to rub my eyes free of the mysterious contaminant and remain in the moment. Naturally, my girls wanted to intervene, but I called them off. This was our fight. No matter how dirty she tried to play this out, I wanted Leila to know that I wasn’t going to back down, wounded or not.

  “See, I told you don’t mess with me,” she said, taking on an heir of arrogance. “And look at you. You ain’t got nothing to defend yourself with, but your hands. This is about to be over.”

  Yes, I had my hands, which were deadly enough, but I still hoped to win this with something that was much more damaging and crippling: my psyche. So, I started with my logic again. “Leila, what did I ever do to you? We could have been friends. We could have run this joint together, turned it upside down. You still have time to back out of this. I’ll forget any of this ever happened if you walk away. There needn’t be any more bloodshed.” The pain in my side grew more intense, but I held on.

  She got nervous again, started rocking from side to side as she tossed the knife from hand to hand before lunging her blade toward my right side. Though I was protecting an injury, this time I was prepared. I moved off her line of attack and intercepted her jab by grabbing her arm, swept her feet from under her, and gained control of her knife. I now had her pinned on the ground with her own blade pointed at her throat. I could feel a part of me wanting to do it, to dra
w the life from her body, to end all of this right then and there, but I didn’t. I had played God enough already. As far as I was concerned, this was over. Besides, she wasn’t worth it. I’d done what I’d come to do.

  “You know, I can end you right here and now, Leila? I can stab this blade right into your heart and walk away. I could do that, but I won’t. I have enough on my conscience to last me ten lifetimes, so this is done. This is over between you and me. Do you hear me? Now, this is how this is going to play out. When I see you, I go my way. When you see me, you go your way. That’s how it’s going to be, do you understand?” After she nodded in compliance, I rose from being straddled on top of her and backed away toward my crew. “This is over,” I repeated before tossing her knife aside.

  And while she would likely go on terrorizing others, making their lives hell, she would no longer be a threat to me or to those under my protection. After the encounter with Leila, the word got around the joint that I was crazy. It suited me just fine because now that I’d made a rep for myself, there would be no other incidents. No one dared challenge me. It was strategy really: take down the biggest threat in the pond and you get rid of all other potential threats. If I was going to be spend what remained of my life in this place, then I was not about to spend it being afraid, having to lurk around corners. I was not going to be that person.

  It was late. I was at my car, getting ready to unlock the door, when a hand grabbed my arm and spun me around. It was him. And while the streetlight shone on only half his face, I could see the anger in his eyes.

  “I know it was you, Cynthia. I know you put someone up to that charade in the paper. You don’t know who you are dealing with, little girl!”