Chapter 4: A Mother’s Vengeance

A cold sweat broke out on my back. I handed my daughter to my wife, her hands trembling as she pulled our girl onto her lap. “Don’t leave Mommy’s side, honey.”

I gathered neighbors to search for Caleb, but he’d already vanished. Big Mike and Mr. Sanders checked the alley and behind dumpsters as the sun set, shadows stretching long and thin.

Fear gnawed at me: What if Caleb had tried to bury my daughter, too? I replayed every moment at the playground, wishing I could turn back time.

That night, I told Natalie quietly: Caleb had come for my daughter. Her grip on my arm was fierce, her eyes wild. “Next time, tell me right away. I’ll kill him!”

Looking at Lily’s photo—her little teeth peeking in a smile—I made a decision. “Do you want revenge? I have a way. I can make sure you don’t go to jail.”

Natalie’s answer was immediate, voice trembling. “Whatever it takes. I want him gone.”

We began our watch. I lingered near the playground fence, phone ready, eyes sharp. Natalie took the bakery window at night. For nearly a month, we waited, trading shifts, hearts pounding at every shadow.

One afternoon, I finally spotted Caleb skulking by the swings in a faded hoodie. My heart hammered. I called Natalie, whispering, “He’s here.”

I called my daughter home, and Caleb followed her, always a few yards behind. I tailed him in my van. On a side street, I grabbed him—hands shaking, adrenaline roaring.

I brought Caleb to the bakery storeroom. Natalie set Lily’s photo on the counter, lighting a candle. “Lily, sweetheart. Today, Mommy will let you rest in peace.”

The room smelled of flour and vanilla, but underneath, something dark brewed. The candle’s glow flickered across Lily’s face, and for a second, I almost faltered.

Caleb cried, pleading, “Mister, Miss, I’m just a kid… How can you hurt a child?”

I hesitated, memories of Caleb as just another kid on the playground flashing through my mind. But then I remembered Lily, and the resolve hardened inside me.

Natalie didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Caleb, forcing him toward the dough mixer. The commercial machine loomed—cold, unforgiving.

Caleb fought, but Natalie was relentless. The mixer roared to life, drowning out his screams. The smell of metal and fear filled the room. One of his legs jammed; Natalie smashed it with a mallet, forcing him in. The crack echoed, turning my stomach.

I hadn’t expected it to go this far. “Don’t do this. Just give him a quick death,” I said, but Natalie slapped my hand away, eyes wild with grief. She slammed down a shoelace—two tied together, just the length of my daughter. The meaning was clear.

I stepped aside. Natalie turned the mixer to max. The counter shook, bread pans rattled, and the horror became a blur of noise and smell. As the mixer thundered, I wondered if there was any piece of me left that could call this justice.

Half an hour later, we shoved what was left into the bread oven, tossing in dough balls to mask the scent. The yeasty aroma covered the acrid stench. By sunrise, the bakery looked untouched, but we were changed forever.

Natalie sat in the dark, staring at Lily’s photo, hands shaking as she wiped down the counter. I handed her the prepared testimony. “Now comes the real test. Are you ready?”

Her tone was eerily calm. “Don’t worry. I won’t pay with my life for a monster.”