The gun felt comfortable in her hand. Abby liked the power it gave her. Standing in front of the mirror, in her room, pointing the gun at an imaginary target, she realized the gun wasn’t her only weapon.
Searching for a location to lure her pray, Abby talked to every hooker she could find, quickly finding sympathy for them after hearing their stories. To most of them it was a job. It wasn’t about sex, or getting a cheap thrill. It was a way to put food on the table. In some cases, a way to provide for their children. Some girls even had husbands, and it was the only source of income. Abby found a new respect for people putting their health at risk, and their lives in danger to provide for family.
Her first night on the street, Abby dressed in a slinky, short black dress hugging her body to emphasize every curve. Her matching hand bag, with a silver strap, held the gun. Soon she would seek vindication on a unsuspecting john looking for a quickie. If they were cheating on their wives or girlfriends, they deserved what was coming, Abby thought.
A young man came walking up to Abby, he couldn’t have been no more than twenty-three. She didn’t care. He could have been the one who pulled the trigger that took, her son, Josh’s life. Abby smiled, and led him around the corner to a dimly lit alley. He unzipped, and she pulled out the gun. Abby pressed the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger. A rush of excitement vibrated her body.
Abby grabbed a bundled wad of cash, she saw sticking out of the victims’s pocket, and moseyed down the alley in search of her next victim.

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