Cloaked in a shroud of mist and thick fog, Jarod moved with purpose past the sinister serpentine vines, ignoring the swarms of ravenous mosquitoes feasting upon his exposed flesh.

The bloodthirsty vermin did not pose the most imminent, hazardous risk to his health, as opposed to the hundreds of other species of animals, reptiles and insects that did.

Nevertheless, Jarod dragged Deputy Allan D. White deep into the dank, murky waters of the Louisiana bayou.

The chirping and buzzing of the impressive variety of insects that inhabited the marshes mingled with muffled, frantic moans. Jarod felt the terrified rapist struggling against his binds, and couldn't suppress the wicked grin.

Granted, he still didn't have his confession.

Procuring a confession is a process; fear is an elemental factor in that process.

Jarod had no intention of harming White; White didn't have to know that, however, and it was quite evident that he didn't.

The pretender's nostrils flared when he breathed in deeply. Beyond the earthy, heady aroma of stale, stagnant water, rotting vegetation, and decaying fish, Jarod detected the distinct essence of fear. And something else. Something intense, cloying. Possibly magnolia. The combination was overwhelming, particularly the fear.

The fear empowered Jarod, just as it had—and still—empowered White.

The Pretender snorted in anger.

So easy. It would be so easy, too easy, to kill the son of a bitch.

Determined to send the man to prison, however, Jarod trudged on, under a cloudy, black sky, to the spot he'd prepared in advance of this night. Oh, this perfect night.

White would finally confess his sins after years of lies, years of claiming to be a victim of a bitter young woman scorned. He would not be absolved despite the confession, but that wasn't the point. It wasn't about absolution for the guilty. It wasn't even about revenge for the victims.

The Pretends were for Jarod's benefit. He sought absolution for himself, believed if he could balanced the scales of justice enough times, save more lives than had been lost as a result of his simulations then perhaps he would eventually do more good than the evil, and at long last, be absolved of his own sins.

And in Jarod's crusade for justice, for absolution, he also succumbed to the need to use and misuse control, seek vengeance.

Upon reaching the makeshift dock in the middle of the bayou where aforementioned vengeance would be executed, Jarod threw the switch on the large flood lights suspended overhead and repositioned the pulley.

He snatched away the blindfold and the gag, snapped the hook to the restraints that bound White and watched sheer beauty unfold as the rapist was hoisted into the air and suspended by his feet over the water.

"What are you," White began with a gasp. "Get me down from here, Jarod. Please."

"Ah-ah-ah," singsonged Jarod. "Did you release Ramona Paxton when she pleaded with you?"

"What are you talking about? That bitch left me for another guy. That was years ago. Don't tell me you believe the lies that whore—"

It's always the same 'I did nothing wrong' rigmarole with these bastards.

Jarod had found Ramona's blood-stained undergarments in White's bedroom. Beneath his pillow, no less. The lab confirmed that White's semen was also present on those undergarments. There were only circumstantial tidbits until Jarod had found the proverbial smoking gun: video.

Jarod's retribution, and the subsequent confession, was unnecessary this time; his lust, however, his need for revenge far outweighed his need to pack up and move on.

"She's a slut," White proclaimed. "A cheap little slut."

With eyes widened in feral rage Jarod released the lock on the pulley system and observed in awe as White's head dropped into the water.

Jarod pulled a lever after a moment, observed as White emerged."I'm sorry," White apologized, and began sobbing-- great huge gasps and racking sobs that shook the ropes and pulley system."Sorry?" Jarod shouted. "Why, Alan? Why? I asked you a question."But the coward only sobbed.
Pathetic, fucking coward.
"Alan?" Jarod shouted. "Why?"Becoming impatient, Jarod lowered the man's head and shoulders into the water. Waited. He feigned disinterest, cast a perfunctory glance behind him, studied the starless sky.

Without a moment to spare, Jarod snatched the man up so that he was only centimeters above the surface—still close enough to taste the water.

White gasped for breath upon resurfacing. "I'm so sorry," White said amid gasps and sobs. "So, so s-so sorry that I hurt her. I—I didn't want her to ever leave me."

"You took advantage of someone who cared about you. She said no, didn't she? She fought you, but that didn't stop you, did it?" Jarod shouted. "You raped her, didn't you? And then you told everyone she was a whore to discredit her if she ever confided in anyone, didn't you? Didn't you? Didn't you?"

"Yes," White confessed tearfully. "I-I-I didn't want anyone to believe her a-a-and I-I thought if everyone believed she was cheap, no one want to be with her, and that she would come back to me. I didn't want anyone else to ever want her."

"Because if you couldn't have her, no one could," Jarod shouted. "And you thought you had gotten away with it, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry, so sorry that I-"

"Say it," Jarod snarled.

"I raped her. I-I-I did it. God, I'm so—"

The water roiled directly below White's head. The man jerked suddenly to see where—and from what—the sound originated. "What is that?" White inquired between sobs. "Jarod," hissed White with a measure of urgency. "Jarod, pull me up. Please."

Jarod's focus in that moment suddenly shifted to White's bound wrists and the single crimson trail that trickled down the length of his index finger. Jarod observed intently as a single drop of blood slipped from the man's fingertips and plummeted to the water's surface where it made impact, and brilliantly rebounded.

It was beautiful the way blood and bayou collided, and sprang into the air as one for a magnificent moment before returning together to ripple along the surface.

The water stilled suddenly, and an ominous silence descended on the bayou.

"Jarod?" White stammered. "Jarod, what's happening?"

A twelve foot alligator emerged from the stagnant waters and answered White's question.

"No," White screamed, his eyes bulging in fear and disbelief. "Pull me up!" White cried. "Jarod, hurry! Pull me up!"

And Jarod should have, he knew that; instead, he stared. Transfixed.

"Jarod," White wailed.

The alligator appeared to smile at his helpless victim. Poetic justice.

Jarod had seen a similar smile on White's face while he had overpowered and raped that terrified young woman.

Without further ceremony, the reptile effortlessly lunged and easily cleared the few centimeters that stood between it and its prey.

During each horrific event in one's life, there is a moment when one knows what is about happen, and despite what efforts one makes at that juncture, there is no way to prevent what is coming.

Defenseless, White stared fearfully into the reptile's eyes and was helpless to watch its approach just as Ramona had stared into White's eyes and attempted to reason with him as her clothes were torn away.

No! No, don't do this. Please! No! No! Ramona's frantic cries returned to White in his final moments.

Ramona had been unable to reason with the rapist.
And White could not reason with the reptile.

"No," howled White as the alligator's mouth stretched open. "No!"

Hands still restrained behind his back, White struggled in earnest.  His fingers fought at the air futilely and he screamed again—a muffled, choked scream.

Oh, God. The Pretender paled as the reptile's teeth sank into the White's neck and face and executed its death roll.

The reptile jerked and thrashed as his teeth tore greedily into White's flesh. Jar—" came the strangled cry from deep within White's mangled throat.

The abrupt clipping of the man's final words—Jarod's name—echoed through the bayou, the marshes, through Jarod's mind.

The alligator was joined by another. The pair worked in tandem, seemingly as a team and removed White's head.

Jarod observed as several more alligators joined the blood bath. The reptiles lurched and with some effort, latched onto White's shoulders—still suspended above the water.

Their combined weight easily snapped the pulley. Jarod observed as the ropes suspending White's body slipped through the cracked device in slow motion.

Jarod could have reacted, saved what remained of the body, and given White's family something to bury or cremate.

Instead, Jarod observed in ghastly fascination as White's shoulders and torso dropped straight into the water. The rapist's feet—still restrained at the ankles—teetered first to the left and then to the right before falling into the water with a terrific splash!

The frenzied predators wasted no time circling the body, as if participating in some quasi-ritualistic dance.

They then attacked collectively, as if on cue, and thrashed and jerked and tore White—quite literally—limb from limb.

"God," breathed Jarod.

His throat constricted, his knees buckled, his stomach churned.

"I've killed him."