Storm Stories.
I do not own the Gilmore characters. I hope this is the beginning of a new Trory. Let me know what you think
Rory's Storm
The wind howled like a creature in agony. The biting cold stung his face and hands. The snow leeched all color from the world and muffled all sound except for the wind. His fevered brain could process only one thought, revenge. Revenge against the woman who had ruined his life. He would take advantage of this incredible storm to take his revenge and disappear. They would never find him. There would be no clues, no evidence, nothing to link him to her death. He would extract his pound of flesh and move on. Rory Gilmore had ruined him. That article she had published exposed his shady dealings and he had to resign from office. His wife left him, the FCC seized all his money and all his friends were shunning him. His high-flying life had crashed to the ground like the Hindenburg. He had nowhere to go. This was all her fault! Rory Gilmore had to die.
He saw lights on in her townhouse. There was no one on the street. The parked cars looked like camels hunkering down under a thick blanket of undisturbed snow. There were no prints on the sidewalk and all other dwellings were darkened. People were hibernating until the storm passed. He watched as the relentless wind quickly obliterated his tracks and he smiled. It was time.
He knew the layout of the house; he knew there was a rear door and that she parked her car in the alley out back. He sidled along the edge of the house and slid through the space between the back gate and the parking area. Her car was there. It was buried like all the others. His eyes glittered as his anticipation mounted. He got the door open and silently slid into the landing. He toed off his boots and shed his coat. He didn't want too much snow to track inside, to hamper his movements. He silently climbed the stairs and prowled the house, looking for Rory Gilmore. She wasn't on the first floor. He heard movement on the second floor. A feral grin split his face. He practically bounded up the stairs. She was humming as she moved about the bedroom. Her back was to the door when he entered. He stepped up behind her and slid the garrote around her neck. She inhaled and then, struggled as her air supply was cut off. Her body went limp and she slid face down onto the floor. It had only taken minutes. He felt the rush of adrenaline subside.
He turned her over. He wanted to see the terror frozen on her face. Horror pierced the sick veil of triumph that clouded his mind. "No!" he whispered. The dead woman was not Rory Gilmore! Fury rose to flood his mind and he lashed out, destroying anything within reach. The carnage was complete. The mirrors were reduced to glittering shards on the floor. Pictures were torn from frames and the frames were splintered. The bed was flipped over and the sheets were thrown over the body on the floor. He couldn't look at her. He killed an innocent! His mind churned in revulsion. He had meant to kill that bitch Gilmore! He fled to the back door and dressed quickly. He had to get out of here! He quietly opened the door and after stepping out into the bitterly cold blizzard, he pulled it closed behind him. The storm seemed to mock him and fierce gusts tore at him as he walked down the alley away from the house. He kept to the same route, and disappeared into the swirling whiteout. He found his way to the parking garage and climbed the stairs to his car. He climbed in and turned the car on to get some heat. He should wait out the storm, but his brain screamed at him to go, to move. She was dead! You killed her! You have to go! He waited, and then succumbed to the internal dialogue. He pulled out of the garage and slowly made his way through barely plowed streets. He picked his way through the deserted streets and turned onto a main thoroughfare. He didn't see the huge snow plow bearing down on him. He turned his head just in time to see the large plow blade appear out of the whiteness and slice into his jeep. The driver slammed on the brakes but it was too late. The massive machine had crushed him. Pain pierced his unconscious mind and he actually chuckled. "That bitch! She's done it to me again. This is her fault…." he whispered as he died.