His phone rang and he hurriedly woke up to take it. It was his informant; he had sent him a message of the date, time and place of the meeting. He opened the bedside table to look for the gun he had earned as a detective and to see a list of people written down a few months earlier. It was a daily necessity as well as a monotony; he checked the bullets in his gun and verified the names written on them. He smiled grimly, thinking that they would fulfill their destiny that day.

While drinking coffee, he clearly remembered what happened, when some months ago his younger sister was found in an abandoned house with syringes in her arms, raped and tortured for no apparent reason. She was never a party person, but the day she decided to go out to entertain her friends in a city bar, she was hunted down and her life ended. It was something she could not leave in the hands of the law and she herself was determined to see justice done.

From there she began an obsessive investigation to find the culprits. She had collected all kinds of evidence; from fingerprints to traces of semen on her clothes, which matched several people wanted at the state level for crimes of rape, murder and human trafficking. The investigation was put in the hands of another detective, as expected, but she did not stop looking for the culprits. She had her revenge well planned for Anatoliy Sokolov; she would make him pay for his crimes. After chasing his trail all over the country, she had finally found him and was prepared for anything.

She hurried to breakfast, grabbed her things and headed for the informed place. When she was close, she took a deep breath and prepared for the execution. The meeting place was an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, where Anatoliy would make a human transaction, according to the informant. He entered pointing in all directions, searched the house and no one was there yet. He thought maybe the informant was mistaken or he had been caught, so he proceeded to hide for a few hours, until finally he heard the sound of cars. Some men, including his target, entered the house and he could see that that day not one but five underage women would be traded. From the bedroom closet he could see their emaciated, dirty, and fearful faces.

She came out and shot Sokolov in the head without a word. He died instantly and then shot the others, causing a hail of bullets in the middle of the room, without even hitting one of them. He wanted to run, but a bullet went through his right arm and then through his right leg. He thought he was not going to get out of that situation and smiled looking at the ceiling because he had fulfilled his revenge.

The last thing she saw was one of the Russian's men approaching her and pointing a gun at her head. The hand holding the gun immediately fell to the ground and his happy look faded into nothingness.

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This is a short story written by @patriciaurbaneja

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