My first reading of “Little Red Riding Hood” left me pondering the wolf’s ability to impersonate the grandmother, leading to the girl’s demise. Years later, it’s clear it was not about the girl being too naïve but about the beast’s commitment to his goal, and I truly related to it.

Years passed, and my father’s voice still echoed in my head, calling me a “vicious beast” before he beat my mother to a lifeless pulp in our living room. After silencing him for good, his words landed in my heart like a compliment. Little did he know I had intended to kill him all along, and just like the character in the story, I committed to it, even at such a young age. I always got what I wanted, and that never changed.

As an adult, I learned sometimes you have to do unpleasant things to accomplish what you want. 

Enduring that low life of a man became more unbearable by the minute. After witnessing my reaction to his first tantrum, Richard felt overconfident and started spreading his tentacles everywhere he could touch. I offered the right dose of resistance, so he continued to be interested in that little game.

He controlled how I dressed, who I talked to, and even what I ate. During an argument, it took me two and a half hours to make him rationalize I had to speak to my doorman and janitor out of courtesy. 

Often calling me to participate in activities with him and his students, I accepted it because I needed every crumb of time with Josh. Deep inside, I knew it was a control maneuver, not an attempt to please me.

Richard explained he was “a reasonable man,” understood my need for independence, and let me “do my thing.” Two weeks after the encounter near the convenience store, I stood on Mia Jones’s porch. I wore tailored black pants, a blazer, a gray satin blouse, and heels.

I rang the doorbell, and someone inside yelled, “Coming!” A few minutes later, my little man, Josh, stood at the door, looking dandy with his favorite pair of red sneakers.

“Good evening, Ms. Graham!”

His calling me Ms. Graham often stung my heart like furious bees, but I knew I had to endure it for the time being. His smile squeezed his eyes, and he looked more adorable.

“Good evening to you, too, Josh. May I come in?” I smiled back.

“Yeah! Mom, Ms. Graham is here.”

A spacious entrance hallway led to a beautiful wooden staircase, and my host guided me across it to get to the kitchen.

The rooms are upstairs.

To the right was a large living room with a 72-inch plasma TV in front of a green leather couch. We walked through, and I glimpsed the shadow of an older man watching a football game. He didn’t flinch, his snoring overpowered the sports anchor’s shouts.

Reaching the kitchen, Mia finished setting the table. She had set it with the perfection only someone willing to please others could offer.

Rather than her usual hair bun, she wore her hair loose and it looked like the waves that crashed on the shore and mixed with the glowing sand.  Her beige sandals, a gray A-line dress, and a red apron with Winnie-the-Pooh completed her look.

“We’re here, and we’re hungry!”

Josh hurriedly and sat at the table, waiting for us to join him.

“Good evening, Mrs. Jones. I brought some wine. And it seems our champion is in a hurry.”

“Hello, Tessa. You’re too kind. And yes, you’d hardly say he had eaten a banana five minutes before you arrived.”

We all chuckled.

“Come sit beside me, Mrs. Graham!”

“Sure!”

I pulled my chair out, and my heart hopped inside my chest. Josh’s eyes were shining like marbles.

“Did you read Spider-Man’s last comic?”

“I didn’t have the time, buddy. How about you tell me all about it?”

Mrs. Jones giggled.

“Big mistake, Tessa. Now, he’ll go on for hours.” She wiped her hands on her apron and took it off. “Daniel! Dinner is ready!”

After a few seconds, she excused herself and stepped swiftly out of the kitchen. The woman was back in an instant while Josh excitedly recounted the fascinating details of what he had just read.

Mia pulled the chair in front of me and sat. Seconds later, the noise from the TV stopped, and a bearded, badly dressed figure walked in. His thin frame and odd looks took me by surprise. Daniel was bald, and his head glowed like a greasy chicken. He wore a blue washed-out Mickey T-shirt and hideous purple shorts.

Is he sick? How could this guy, who dresses like one of the worm aliens from Men in Black, make such a beautiful child?”

“Honey, this is Josh’s teacher, Tessa Graham. This is my husband, Daniel.”

 I stood and grasped his hand. My grip was firm, yet his felt like a limp noodle.

“How do you do, Mr. Jones?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! Please call me Daniel.” He sat beside her. “Everything smells delicious, babe.”

“Thank you, dear, but you could’ve dressed nicer since we have company tonight, and I told you about it.”

“It’s no biggie. It’s normal for a man tired from work to doze off on the couch. We’ll enjoy a nice dinner together anyway, right?”

The look on Mia’s face told me she was uncomfortable with her husband’s attitude. Daniel seemed disconnected, acting carefree, shrugging like she didn’t mean it. Fortunately, my angel saved the day.

“Can we eat? I’m starving!” Josh pouted.

“Sure, J-boy! Dad’s gonna serve you right now.”

A shake of the head banished Mrs. Jones’ discomfort, bringing a shy smile and enhancing her loveliness. That and my son’s enthusiasm about the story motivated me enough to ease my wish to slam that jerk’s head with a hammer.

During the meal, we talked about amenities. My little man flexed his skills at school, and I supported and seconded whatever he said. Although Daniel was getting on my nerves for being too clueless about everything related to Josh, the moments we spent together felt cozy and warmed my chest.

Later, Mrs. Jones and I remained awake, sharing farewells on the porch, like longtime friends. I got a cab back home, praising my cleverness. Bringing up the subject of the students’ neighborhoods in a class perfectly matched our lunchtime chit-chat when I asked about their parents and what they did daily.

I already had their address. Once I figured out Mia’s evening routine, tracking down that little hideaway was almost too easy. My goal: see Mia. So, I found a reason to be nearby Monday through Friday.

And with no effort, she allowed me in. Every step I took felt a little bittersweet. The sweetness of Mia’s and Josh’s presence in my life merged with the bitterness of enduring other things I could easily avoid with a swing of my blade. But I knew it would all be worth it in due time. 

* * * * *

For the next few months, if I wasn’t the daughter of Jeremiah, I’d say my life turned into a living hell. Rick started following me at school, no matter where I went or what I was doing. When we weren’t working or in the same place together, he demanded to know my exact actions and location.

When he already had this information, he would call me nonstop until I answered and would scream and threaten me if I didn’t go back immediately. In one of those episodes, my trip home from the hairdresser took longer than usual. Richard waited for me at the entrance when I arrived at my building. My apartment door hadn’t even clicked shut before he fisted my hair and jerked my head back like I was some disobedient animal. I yelled, and he slapped me in the face.

My skin, which looked as fair as my mother’s, immediately turned a deep red. We stood in silence for a few seconds before he came towards me, pulled me in for a hug, and caressed me.

“I’m sorry, babe. Look what you made me do! It’s because you don’t listen. You have to pay attention when I talk to you, okay?”

The results of his actions could be seen the next day by the doorman, my neighbors, and the school staff.

“Good afternoon, everyone! May the Lord bless the souls of your little angels because mine are so agitated; I suppose they are overflowing with blessings.”

“I hope yours share their holiness with ours, my friend?”

She was ready to giggle, but the sound died on her purple-tinted lips when she saw my face, badly covered by foundation and concealer. When she got close, I averted my eyes and turned away, but that didn’t prevent Steele from enjoying a good laugh.

“You landed another wonderful joke, Mrs. Davis!”

Joanne was speechless for the second time since I met her, the first being at Mr. Thompson’s funeral. Confusion gave way to disgust on her face, but she couldn’t stop staring at us, as if solving some impossible equation written in our expressions.

At the end of our shift, she messaged me, “Is everything okay, Tess?” 

“All is fine, Joanne. Why?”

“Because there’s something on your face telling me the exact opposite. Your answer is as fake as a three-dollar bill, Missy. But I’m here if you need me.”

After that dialogue, she walked away like a ghost down the hallway. Mia acted more discreet when she saw me during our casual encounters in the neighborhood or when I had dinner at her place. Whenever Steele was not around, she asked if I needed any support and reassured me I could count on her. If he was with me, she’d stretch our chats into trivial, endless loops—a quiet way to prevent our moments alone.

Little by little, week by week, month by month. I worked as a spider, building a net of witnesses to the wrongdoings of that filthy waste of organic material. The marks he inflicted on me for disobeying his ridiculous orders or for triggering his jealousy by watching movies and series with men more attractive than him were the invisible wires that led all their eyes to me and him.

He was beyond the reach of justice, immune to punishment or consequence. November arrived, and the time to close in on him with the trap I’d set had come. Before killing him, I would make him lose everything he had.

Editor: Lucy Cafiero