Chapter 3Frozen Justice for My Abuser

"You little punk! Thought you were fast, huh? Let's see you run now!"

I blinked snow out of my eyelashes. Hovering over me, face twisted in rage, was Arthur Pendleton.

"Listen to me," he snarled, digging his fingers into my jacket. "When you ran off this morning, you tripped me! I nearly broke my neck!"

He leaned in closer, his breath smelling of stale coffee and decay. "So, you tell me how we're going to handle this. I'll give you a hint: if you don't fork over fifty thousand dollars right now, this doesn't go away!"

I laughed inwardly. The old bastard was just throwing darts in the dark, hoping to hit a jackpot.

I had watched that security footage hundreds of times in my past life. I knew with absolute certainty that the camera had captured nothing of use today. He was bluffing.

I wasn't about to play by his rules. Instead of arguing, I threw my head back and let out an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream.

"My ribs! Oh my god, my ribs are shattered!"

I writhed in the snow, clutching my side.

"My head! I'm going to throw up, it's a severe concussion!"

I kicked my leg out at an awkward angle. "My femur is snapped! Call an ambulance! Call 911!"

I grabbed my lower back, screaming louder. "My kidney! You ruptured my kidney! I'm passing stones!"

Arthur leaped off me as if he’d been electrocuted, stumbling backward.

"I'm warning you, don't try to pull an insurance scam on me!" he yelled, panic edging into his voice. "I'll call the cops and have you arrested!"

Before he could even reach for his pockets, I already had my phone pressed to my ear. I had dialed 911 the second he tackled me.

Arthur’s face went pale. He lunged forward to snatch the phone, but it was too late.

"Are you insane? You actually called them?"

I looked up at him from the snow, my eyes wide, and gasped theatrically.

"Oh, no... my heart. I have a heart condition! This old man triggered an attack! Everyone, look! Don't let him get away!"

In my past life, the psychological warfare he had waged against me was etched into my soul. It had become a waking nightmare. Now, I was simply returning the favor, page by page from his own playbook.

When the police arrived, Arthur immediately tried to play the sweet, confused grandfather. "Officers, it was just a misunderstanding! We were just messing around, right Michael?"

I didn't answer him. I insisted on being loaded onto the stretcher and taken in the ambulance.

Arthur tried to push his way through the paramedics to grab my arm, desperate to avoid paying a dime for my hospital transport.

I pointed a shaking finger at the security booth. "Officers, please secure the gate footage immediately! Before the cameras conveniently 'malfunction'."

The footage was undeniable. It clearly showed Arthur ambushing me, shoving me violently to the ground, and my head snapping back against the ice.

He was forced to pay my three-thousand-dollar emergency room bill out of pocket.

When he handed the money over at the precinct, the hatred in his eyes was so intense it practically burned.

I ignored it, pocketed the cash, and walked out.

Later that evening, I took the complex's security guard out for steaks. Over dinner, the guard shook his head, looking at me like I was a dead man walking.

"Man, out of everyone in the city, you had to cross that old psycho," the guard sighed.

He told me things about Arthur I hadn't known. Years ago, Arthur had stolen the heavy iron storm drain covers from the complex's streets and sold them to a scrapyard to buy toys for his grandson. A resident had fallen into an open drain and shattered their leg. When the HOA reviewed the cameras and confronted Arthur, he didn't even deny it. He claimed that because he paid his HOA fees, the neighborhood property belonged to him. When the HOA pointed out he hadn't paid his fees in three years, he argued that since he paid them once, it counted forever.

"It gets worse," the guard said, taking a sip of his beer. "He used to steal women's underwear from the laundry room and have his son sell them online. When one of the female residents caught him, he threw himself on the floor, claimed she assaulted him, and tried to sue her."

"Eventually, he figured out that college girls were easier targets," the guard lowered his voice. "So he started lurking around the basement apartments where the university students rent."