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Averly Godfrey's Blog Entry


Blog Entry
Sunday, May 05, 2019
Novaturient (Complete)


    (adj.) desiring or seeking powerful change in one’s life, behavior, or situation.


    Pale hand shaking out in front of her, Averly quickly dumped a little white pill from a bottle into her open palm. Vision blurred, thoughts racing, and heart pounding she was able to swallow the little bar without water. Her throat already felt like it was going to close on her, so what was the difference if it choked her? Luckily, it didn’t. The Xanax she had been prescribed was for emergencies, or that’s what she told herself.


    It was better than finding solace at the bottom of a bottle, though she wasn’t sure finding it in medication was much better. It made the constant onslaught of anxiety attacks less severe at least. Panic disorder was what the professional dressed in white had labeled her with. Averly had left that office feeling branded, script in hand as she made her way to the pharmacy to fill it. Twenty-three years of life she had gone not knowing a word for the unwariness she felt in her every day life, or for the ‘episodes’ she experienced on a near daily basis.


    The relief that she had found in that pill was uncanny, and she had quickly become attached to the bright orange pill bottle. So much so, that she began carrying it with her at all times. Usually half a pill was enough to take the edge off, but in her given situation an entire pill was necessary. That’s what she would tell herself anyway, gripping the porcelain sink in the rest stop bathroom. A few moments ago, she had been trying not to heave up her lunch. The anxiety she experienced often made her nauseous, her symptoms were made worse by being trapped in a car for hours as she drove on the open road.


    In a spur of the moment decision, Averly had hopped inside the beater she had purchased with the little money she had made working at a local greenhouse. That venture had been short lived. Averly craved more, and with the sudden internet access she acquired arriving in the Realm she found herself on a different path. Those she had met and interacted with had changed her more than she originally realized. She had found herself craving more excitement in her life, adventure, and a thirst for knowledge and courage. If she was one thing, it was determined.


    After finding a discreet ad in the depths of the dark web, she accepted her first job with enthusiasm. Bringing her to the heart of Atlanta, Georgia. Here is where Averly currently found herself in a gas station bathroom, trying to calm her nerves before abducting a lawyer two blocks away. His wife and brother offered up the money for him to be tortured after his various infidelities. They explained it all in a carefully worded email to her, it was their wish that he be tortured and beaten. Held captive for a few days, until they feigned paying his ransom to get him back.


    Hesitant to accept something of this nature, the twenty grand they offered as payment had quickly changed her mind. The Norris’s’ were a wealthy Catholic family with a reputation to uphold. As influencers in their community they fought to keep Mr. Norris’s mistakes as discreet as possible, but after impregnating and abandoning a woman while on a work trip to Oregon, they realized they wouldn’t be able to keep his secrets under wraps for long. Their plan was to scare him enough to send him back to his wife’s loving embrace.


    If Averly did her job right, she intended to do just that. With his own twins on the way, the lawyer was working late in his office flirting with his receptionist. Averly’s casual drive by scope of the place had told her that much already, all there was left to do now was follow him to the strip club he frequented and lure him into her getaway ride. Her ride happened to be a beaten up 2002 Toyota Corolla, but the specifics didn’t matter. She would most likely be ditching the car anyway after releasing her charge.


    Stepping away from the sink before her, Averly pulled a handgun out of the duffel bag she had discarded on the floor. Procuring its holder and a black ski mask, she strapped herself in and used a leather jacket she had brought along to cover the gun at her side. After shoving the ski mask in her pocket, she took a moment to study herself in the mirror. Her usual golden locks hung limply at the sides of her face, which was covered in a thin layer of oil and dirt from the near seven hour drive it took to get to Atlanta from New Orleans.


    In one smooth motion, she swept back her wild locks and secured her hair in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck with an elastic from her wrist. Averly peeled off the shirt and pants she had worn during her drive and opted for an outfit more fitting for the capture of one Michael Norris.



    After exiting the fill station in her black ensemble, Averly climbed into her car and started its engine. The roar was loud, but the old beater still ran relatively well. More importantly, the radio Averly had installed was loud enough to drown out the thunderous roar of the car as she drove. She would most definitely be ditching it after releasing her prey. The car’s distinct sound was enough to give some lead on her if a police report was filed or she was seen dragging away her victim.


    Averly sincerely doubted his family would bother to go as far as to file a police report, considering he would only be gone for a few days. Not long enough to turn any heads, but it would give her some time to give her client’s husband a proper scare. Along with the handgun she had secured on her belt, Averly came with a baseball bat, various tools in a tool box, and a chainsaw. The latter was purely for Averly’s own enjoyment of course, seeing as she was only there to terrify him. Another client would be necessary if she wanted to have any real fun with maiming a pathetic bottom feeder.


    Despite her bloodlust, Averly had made a promise to herself that she would only harm and adamantly avoid killing unless it was unavoidable and necessary. A bad taste had been left in her mouth when it came to murder. She didn’t want that kind of blood on her hands, and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to bear that weight on her shoulders.

    Bringing an unlit cigarette to her chapped lips, she bit the end of it to replace the peeling of her mouth with her porcelain white teeth. As she lit the opposite end, the familiar rush of a nicotine buzz coursed through her veins. Pulling away from the station, Averly followed the now familiar road to Michael Norris’s office where his favorite receptionist would be leaving for the night. No evening soiree between her and boss tonight, which would come as a relief to her husband.


    After a ten-minute drive down the road, Averly would pull into a mostly empty parking garage. She had already chosen the dark corner of the third floor, where she would be mostly hidden from the view of the street. Her target would enter the garage from the dimly lit elevator before making way to his red Lexus parked in its reserved spot. Michael f-cking Norris wouldn’t know the storm headed his way. His wife’s revenge came with stormy blue eyes and strapped to the teeth.


    It was 8:00pm when a figure exited the elevator of a parking garage deep in the heart of Atlanta. Michael Norris’s next stop would be ‘Magic City’, as he was a regular there. His wife Chelsea claimed he went two to three times a week, and always went on a Friday after working late. ‘To unwind’ he would always claim to his wife. Mrs. Norris suspected he spent money on quite a few private rooms during his times there, spoiling his favorite girls with riches and cash in return for their time.


    This Friday night, they would be short one patron. One witch by the name of Averly Amoret was posted in the far corner of the parking garage and was pulling a black ski mask over her head. Her blonde curls hidden by the material, all her features hidden aside from her haunting blue-grey hues. Averly had gone over her plan a dozen times during her hour wait, she had ditched her plan of grabbing him as he left the club. Opting to grab him before he had a chance to even leave the parking garage. It would be safer this way she told herself. The less eye witnesses around, the better chance she had of being interrupted.


    As the door to the room housing the elevator swung open, Averly quietly slipped out of her car door. Having left it ajar to silently creep her way behind him. Heart racing, she slipped behind her car. The bright red Lexus sat a few across the way from her own beaten down pile of junk she operated. He was nearly half way to his vehicle when Averly appeared from behind her vehicle, slowly dragging a metal baseball bat along the ground as she closed the space between them.


    The eerie sound of metal against the pavement had Michael Norris turning to face her, the panic in his eyes growing by the minute. As he turned to run towards his car, Averly closed the space between them. Lifting the bat, it made contact with his spine and he collapsed to the ground with a yelp. His feminine gasp would have been humorous if Averly didn’t have to worry about any yelling that may ensue should he be conscious for much longer. Quickly, Averly jumped onto his back and held the bet between her hands. Slamming the handle into the back of Michael’s head, she felt his body go limp underneath her.


    Next would come the more difficult part. Climbing off him, Averly flipped him over and hooked her hands underneath his arms. Luckily, Mr. Norris was a scrawny grease ball and could be easily moved. Every second counted when it came to his capture, the parking garage had remained mostly empty during the hour Averly had spent waiting but she knew this could change at any moment. It only took a moment for her to drag him to her car, tying him up and throwing him in the back would take longer than the initial process of moving his lifeless form. Swinging him around to the dark space between her car and the cement wall of the garage, Averly popped open her trunk and grabbed the nylon rope she had stored there.


    Making quick work of tying his arms behind his back, and his legs together. All there was left to do was blindfold him. Of course, she had forgotten this detail, and instead had to take the knife she had strapped to her thigh and cut a piece of cloth from the black t-shirt she wore underneath her jacket. Grumbling as she tied the fabric around his head, she froze as chatter from the elevator room pierced the silence of the garage. Averly could feel her heart nearly jump out of her chest. Hitting the ground, she covered Michael Norris’s body with her own and clamped her hand over his mouth. Should he wake from his sleep, the last thing she needed was someone hearing him.


    Peering over at the elevator room from underneath her car, she spotted the metal baseball bat she had used to knock out Mr. Norris on the ground not too far from his Lexus. Clumsy, careless work. Averly was seething as the door to the elevator room swept open, the parking garage became filled with flirtatious laughter of a woman walking beside a man. Both sharply dressed, and no doubt part of the same firm Michael was apart of. Averly wondered for a second if the same woman in the pencil skirt was the receptionist Chelsea had mentioned in her email. Would the woman realize that Michael had left but was not in his car? Averly’s heart rate spiked once more at the realization.


    The laughter was cut short as the couple reached the baseball bat, Averly pressed herself closer to Mr. Norris to get a better glimpse from underneath her car. The man nudged the baseball bat with his foot, his deep voice thick with an accent Averly couldn’t place asked. “What is this doing here? Did you see Mike leave?”



    At this point Averly had stopped breathing as she awaited the woman’s response. The man she was with had picked up the bat, studying it for a moment before offering it to his counterpart. Averly couldn’t see their faces, or she would be scanning the woman for any reaction. Instead, a groan could be heard as she clutched the purse she carried at her side closely to her.

    “No. Who cares? Mike is a creep.” With this, the faceless woman stepped closer to her counterpart. Nudging the bat out of the way, she gripped his free arm and curled herself into his side.

    “Let’s leave. It’s probably someone’s kids bat for baseball practice or whatever.” With a giggle from the woman, Averly watched as her heels clicked on the ground as she stepped closer to the man now holding her bat. “I want to drink. So, let’s go.”

    Too scared to breathe a sigh of relief, Averly watched silently as the man put down the bat and walked his partner to the black SUV parked a few spaces from Michael’s Lexus. He was obviously just as well liked at work as he was at home, which was convenient for Averly. She dared herself not to move until the car peeled away from the third floor, relief flooding over her when she was finally able to roll off the form beneath her.

    Mr. Norris was still unconscious, making her job that much easier. She was in no hurry to knock him out again, and she wanted him conscious for the fun they would soon be having. The no-tell-motel Averly had booked a room at was just outside of Atlanta. The drive a short distance compared to the miles between her and New Orleans, the same drive made it not feasible to bring her work home.

    Once the blindfold was secured around his head, Averly heaved Michael’s limp form into the backseat of the Toyota. No need to be cautious if he would be returning home with plenty of bumps and bruises anyway. Once she was sure that her package was secure, she gagged him for good measure and covered him with a tarp lest anyone peak in her windows in the traffic jam she was sure to find herself in leaving the city. She should have considered charging extra for that detail alone.

    After climbing into the front seat, Averly pulled a fresh cigarette from her pack and tucked it behind her ear. She was sure to get a mouthful from the cranky security officer at the gate of the parking garage, and the less time she spent under watchful eyes the better. She would have to wait until they pulled out onto the street. The anticipation of a promised nicotine fix was the only thing that would keep her sane as she waited her turn to pay the fee to leave the garage. The cranky woman in the glass booth indeed eyed her wearily, as if she was certain that the dirty blonde-haired femme driving the beater in a nicer part of town was up to no good. She wasn’t entirely wrong of course, but she was wrong in letting her pass through after paying the outrageous fee.

    A brief sigh of relief passed through her lips before Averly eagerly lit the end of a cigarette and placed it between her lips. The acrid taste filled her mouth, and she was suddenly calmer than she had been in the passing moments before hand. So much had already been planned out and executed, but Averly’s work had only just begun.  


    It had taken nearly an hour to get them out of the city, and by the end of that time Averly’s captive was starting to stir in the backseat. His calm breaths had quickly turned ragged as confusion clouded his still sleepy mind, no doubt accompanied by the headache of being knocked out with a baseball bat. His transport from the car to the motel was only made easy by the fact he was still bound together and gagged for good measure. Once she had him inside, Michael was attempting to writhe out of the rope securing his wrists and feet together. This gave her time to gather her belongings and leave him inside waiting. The anticipation of it all made it even more exciting for her.


    After closing the curtains to the motel room, Averly had retrieved her duffel bag and a bottle of whiskey from the trunk of her car and quickly retreated inside to begin what would end up being the longest night Michael Norris had experienced so far. Truthfully, Averly was unsure where all her anger and hostility had been stored over the years. Her bloodlust was both foreign, and a bit frightening for her. She had originally accepted such an offer for money alone, but now that she was waist deep in the sh*t she had started she found herself getting excited over the promise of executing lashings to the cretin she had hogtied in her motel room.

    Stepping over his form, Averly made way to the bed to spread out her utensils. Like any good chef, she would take her time sharpening her knives to get a proper cut from her slab of meat. His whimpers of terror had her heart racing with excitement, and it would soon be time to switch on music to set her scene. Although she still donned a mask, Averly had discarded the black sweatshirt she had donned before retrieving her package at the parking garage downtown. Instead, she waltzed around in a tight-fitting black t-shirt and black pair of jeans. She may as well make it visually exciting for the adulterer she was about to cut a piece out of. Perhaps he would see the error of his ways in being a lustful scoundrel.

    Examining the spread before her, she held up the hilt of a knife she had brought along with her and admired its stainless-steel blade. ‘Only the best for him,’ she thought to herself. With a smile, she crept towards Mr. Norris with the prowess of a hungry mountain lion. Only to quickly turn towards the TV stand and flip on the old stereo and place a CD in its player. A lovely, familiar tune filled the room and she swayed in place before the vocals began streaming from the speakers. Meg Myers ‘Sorry’ was the tun that filled her ears, her lilt brought goosebumps to Averly’s bare arms and another smile to her lips.

    “I’m going to enjoy this, Michael. Much more than I had originally intended.” Another whimper sounded from him as she spoke. Stepping closer, she crushed his leg underneath her foot. Not enough to do any permanent damage, even as a short and stocky fellow, Mr. Norris still had a good 60lbs. and a few well-placed inches on her. Still, a cry of pain made it past his gag. Averly dropped down to her knees beside him and crushed the hilt of the blade into his exposed ribs, ordering another fit of pain from him.

    Sweat gleamed on his brow now, and Averly could make out the veins in his neck popping as he panicked. She reveled in his fear and could nearly taste it in the air. Averly nearly pitied him, as that familiar sense of panic was all too familiar to her. The only difference was that she felt it waking up every day or was sent into hysterics at the thought of leaving her house some days.

    Michael Norris deserved this pain, she would tell herself. The shame and sorrow he brought his family justified her actions, she would tell herself as she ran the blade down his arm.


    Two hours had gone by, and the blood on her slender hands still had not washed away. One shower, and scrubbing at her hands until they were raw, still couldn’t bring out the blood lodged underneath her fingernails. Their session had gone on longer than she originally intended, the slicing of his flesh mesmerizing to her. The sadomasochistic fantasy and practice she indulged in had brought her much joy at the time, only to bring her heart ache after wards.

    Averly had spent most of her night carefully running a blade down the fleshy parts of Michael’s arms, later moving on to separate layers of skin while the knife was still sharp. The strips of skin she had peeled away were the gently laid on top of him for his viewing pleasure. She had lost track of his consciousness after the third time he had fainted, too engrossed in her own handywork to pay much more attention to him.

    Now gripping the edges of the porcelain sink, Averly looked at herself in the mirror. Truly looked at herself for the first time in days. The dark circles under her eyes made her stormy hues look gray and dull, and although the oil had been washed away, she still felt grimy under the florescent lighting in the motel bathroom. Her hair still dripping wet, she took the time to wring it out with a hand towel she had thrown on the toilet seat. One of the only linens not covered in blood. Should the clean up crew ask, she would say she had an unexpected menstrual cycle.

    The memory of what she had whispered into his ear as she inflicted pain upon him crept into her mind, bringing a smile to the corners of her full lips. As she ran her sharpened nails along his sides, she had leaned into his ear and asked. “So, you’re a tough guy? Like it really rough guy?” A foreign feminine giggle had escaped her as he trembled beneath her. The lyrics from Billie Eilish’s “Bad Guy” filled her head along with the beat on the still playing stereo, blocking out his whimpers.

    Still studying herself, she looked down at herself. The towel wrapped around her chest wasn’t long enough to cover her bruised knees, the purple marks there from the hours she had spent on the floor torturing Michael. For a moment, Averly wondered how long they would take to heal, or when the blood would finally disappear from her skin. His blood had wiped off-of the blade easily, but the towels she had used to clean up would be ruined. A pity for the motel, really.

    Through her sick satisfaction, disgust began rising-up within her. The bruises, the dark under eye circles from lack of sleep, and the wicked grin playing her lips wasn’t the person she was. Yet, the innocent and shy woman she had become these past few years wasn’t truly her either.

    Who was Averly Amoret?


    Three days had passed since she returned Michael Norris into his wife’s loving arms.

    Having returned to her home in New Orleans in the wee hours of the early morning, it had taken a day’s rest to catch up on the sleep she desperately needed. Pampering herself with her newly filled coffers, the matted curls that had framed her pale face were once again full of life. The circles under her eyes had begun to fade, and the dirt under her nails had been scraped out from a lovely technician by the name of Honey.

    Still, Averly couldn’t shake the haptic memory of blood underneath her fingernails or the slickness of the liquid between her fingertips. As a result, she was hardly able to force any kind of sustenance down. The sadistic pleasure she had derived from harming that man had inflicted irreparable damage to her psyche, and the young witch was unsure if she would ever be free of that feeling.

    The check she had been handed had immediately cleared, providing Averly with more money than she knew what do with. She had become sick with the satisfaction of seeing that number in her bank account. So, like any sane person would do. She purchased a new car after finally paying her landlord the three months rent she had owned. These luxuries had never been a priority for her, but she had indulged in giving herself free reign with what she felt was necessary.

    With these few pieces of the puzzle put into place, Averly returned to the simple and quiet life she adored while she fought the memories haunting her.

    Until her next client showed up at her doorstep.



Posted at 02:39 pm
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