Today’s author highlight is B. Berry. She is one of the eight authors whose work will be featured in the Tyranny of Evil: The Hearts of Men anthology.
On August 28th, 2015, Bleeding Pen Publishing Presents “Tyranny of Evil: Hearts of Men”
This anthology features eight authors with all e-book proceeds going directly to charity. The charity is called The Innocence Project and you can find out more about this charity via their link: http://www.innoceneceproject.org.
B. Berry’s Contribution to the book is the short story titled “Bella’s Bad Day.”
B. Berry is the author of three murder mysteries, Clothesline Blues, Cold Crazy, and Cold Serial and the much talked about bookEven Numbers. Even Numbers is about a young girl who was molested by her stepfather and then ultimately raised by him. It was written to raise awareness about child molestation and child rape in our world.
B. Berry lives in Florida where she continues to writes full-time.
You can reach out to B. Berry by any of the following means.
EXCERPT (click the link to access the book)
She was still straddling me. She closed her eyes and leaned back as I held her at the waist. I leaned back too, creating just enough space between us, allowing me to reach out and grab her by the throat. The moment I wrapped my hands around her neck, her eyes flew open and she quickly reached out, clawing at my face. We were at such an awkward position, facing each other in the chair, so it wasn’t as easy to apply pressure to her neck as if it would have had we been lying down. Somehow, she was able to push herself off my lap and shove the heel of her foot at my exposed penis. I yelped in pain, clutching my jewels. I fell forward and that’s when she went crazy. She reached out, scratching the sides of my face and neck with those daggers on her fingertips. I lay in pain on the rug for a moment, when she lifted her foot to kick me again; I grabbed it, pulling her down beside me. I rolled over and was on top of her in a split second, pinning her arms down with my knees.
I wrapped my hands around her neck, this time it didn’t matter how much she thrashed around trying to get away. The blood rushed to my head and the veins on the backs of my hands bulged angrily. I squeezed her throat as hard as I could, lifting her head up off the rug and then I felt her windpipe snap in my hands. Her face went slack as sweat poured down my face, stinging the scratches she had raked across my cheeks, but I didn’t loosen my grip for several minutes more.
When I finally let her head fall back to the floor, I sat back in the chair to catch my breath. My chest was heaving, my heart was racing as if I’d just run a marathon. It was exhilarating! After a few minutes, when my breathing subsided a bit, I went to the bathroom to assess the damage to my face and neck. It was a mess, the stinging was almost unbearable.
She left deep gouges on both sides of my face, my throat, and the back of my neck. Blood ran down the front of my shirt, when I pulled it off, I heard something hit the marble floor with a tiny tap, one of her nails broke off during the attack. I picked it up and flushed it down the toilet. I patted my wounds with a wet face towel and applied Neosporin. After taking care of my battle wounds, I poured a huge brandy and went to the living room to sit for a while. I needed to think. How the hell was I going to explain the cuts on my face and neck? I sat in front of the fireplace for about an hour before I got up to retrieve my tools. Shawnda was waiting for me; her eyes were open, staring at nothing. I set my snifter down on the table and went to her. I rolled her onto one of the plastic sheets, grabbing the scissors. Then I went to work, first cutting her hair and shaving her head. I removed her make-up, revealing a face scarred and pockmarked from an old acne problem. I cut those horrible nails down to her fingertips. I cleaned all of her orifices, which included a douche. I sliced off her top lip in one clean quick motion, and then scrubbed her with the hot water and Clorox solution. Next, I rolled her into a black garment bag and transported it to the back of my SUV.
I was still rattled as I drove a bit feverishly to the park. It had begun to shower lightly again, the road was wet. My mind whirled back to the scene that took place at my condo. I couldn’t believe what happened. How could I have not seen it coming? Suddenly, I slammed on the brakes, causing the car to jerk forward violently, before coming to a complete stop. There was a figure in the beam of my headlights. I watched as he froze in his tracks from fear. I took in the green skullcap on his head and tan vest. For a moment, his eyes locked with mine, his expression chilled me to the bone. He bolted to get out of the way, moving so fast, he became a blur as he turned the corner and slipped into the shadows. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, until I gasped for air. Then I continued driving. I had to bury Shawnda’s body in a hurry.