Hey, guys! After nearly a year of hiatus, we are back with another installment of 'Glynda.' Look at this as an interlude as in this chapter, Glynda reflects about herself and her engagement with Jaune. Later, she devises a plan to keep Jaune to herself...permanently. As a reminder, please read this at your own risk!

There wasn't any turning back for Glynda Goodwitch. That was a troublesome thought that rested on her brain. It stained more than the milligrams of tar on her fingers and lungs from smoking her cigarettes. It stained more than the blood that was spread onto Jaune's porcelain skin. Even the stains in her closet where she kept her bones. Bones that were collected and toppled over older bones. Bones that were covered in dried marrow, grissel, and dust. Jaune Arc was not the first boy to ever cross her path. There were plenty of others before him - a lot to prove but nothing to gain. Jaune was weak in her eyes. A weak boy with a weak heart, with a weak soul who tried so hard to make himself known onto others.

He was a people pleaser. A pushover, an easy target even for the underlings of social hierarchy. Did the teen actually think that serenading people with a guitar and falsifying documents was going to bring him recognition? Was it going to build his character? Boys like him made Glynda sick to her stomach. A wart on her taint, the ulcer in her intestine, a stain into a soul. A stain, weak, easy prey.

Filth.

Jaune wasn't any different than the previous ones. They didn't ask questions because they knew better. Even if they talked, who would believe them? She had done her research - each boy was lacking something that they desperately craved. Whether it be love, affection, acknowledgement, Glynda knew how to feed them, fill them up before aiming for the kill. Tearing them up and building them to her liking was the greatest sensation. It was better than sex. Honestly, it was quite orgasmic when the boys pleaded and begged for her attention. They craved the pain, wanting more, but alas, they were no longer needed. Their uses were exhausted.

The boys were her precious treasures. In fact, newspaper clippings of her treasures were kept in a black leather journal in the corner of the top bookshelf in her office. Whenever she was alone or wanting reminders of yesteryear, she would bestow herself into the memories.

Young college student commits suicide after allegations of raping a female classmate on campus.

A seventeen-year-old male student wanted for questioning after fingerprints were found on the knife that was used to attack another seventeen-year-old male student.

A prospective hunter is found dead by a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was last seen at Forever Falls. Classmates did admit to find a cryptic message on his Facebook….

The list went on. Page after page, clippings after clippings of boys that were tarnished, scarred, no longer identified as part of the metropolis. They were a special brand of individuals, those that were laced by the cynical happiness that was their professor.

What made Jaune different from the others was his ability to escape. She applauded his efforts, even to the point that she gave it praise. She let it be known during their last night together in the hotel room. A reprieve for the little red riding hood to stand up to the big bad wolf.

She used her shirt to wipe the blood. It was an accident. It was an accident, she tried telling herself. It was practically Jaune's refusal to comply. Wasn't sure if it was the lack of the chloroform's potency or Jaune's will to fight back, but a struggle ensued. Blood covered the floor. A trail was formed as she needed to move Jaune. He wasn't dead. She didn't hit any major arteries or vital organs.

It didn't mean she helped him either. He gasped for air, covering the puncture holes in any way he could. He was like a deer in headlights, an upside down turtle, a Grimm that was on its last leg pleading for a mercy kill. Blood seeped, he wept, she smiled. She crept over him, looking at him as she was the merciless god. She was God. She was in charge of his life. Leaving Goodwitch was like running away from grace. The grace that he was alive because of her. She was the reason for his purpose, his existence, his reason to breathe.

She watched as Jaune couldn't contain blockading the wounds. No one could hear him scream. It was the peak of the morning hour. Kids were going to school, the elderly went for their morning work, a housewife was going grocery shopping. She knew the next door was heavily invested in her soap opera so she wouldn't care less about the cries for help. The television was loud. If anything, the agonal cries could have been part of some twisted horror movie or a tense suspenseful film. Either way it went, Glynda was quite the orchestrator to see her Jaune taking his last breaths before going into unconsciousness.

The professor precariously sat on the couch, questioning her next move. Stabbing Jaune wasn't part of the plan. A torture tactic? Yes! If Jaune would have been willing to be subdued before she can easily transport him, then there would be a problem.

It was typical Jaune - never making things easy for the professor. He wasn't as compliant as the others. Yet again, it took a lot of guts and courage to run away.

Something she was going to make sure that it wasn't going to happen again.

Ever!

She knew Jaune should be alright for the next few hours. Earlier after stabbing him, she went to the nearby convenience store to purchase bags of ice. The tall, paunchy gentleman watched this petite, green-eyed foreigner carrying loads of ice. Her appearance didn't match her strength was probably what the clerk was thinking. Actually, she couldn't care what the lecherous-looking man thought. Paying in cash, she took the bagsful of ice and walked the six blocks back to the apartment.

The ice should retard the bleeding and preserve him for the time being. She was even kind enough to pour whiskey on his wounds before dressing them. Whiskey was the trick to retard blood loss. Something she had picked up from Old Man Ozpin during one of their tet-o-tet's. Time was of the essence. The cram school was going to look for Jaune. His host family, if he had one, was going to look for Jaune.

So, with that, there wasn't going to be any surprises when Jaune's parents would voice their concern. If that so-called family should have voiced concern, it should have been before he left for Japan. In a way, it was their fault. She knew the statistics, the likeability of a foreign Caucasian male getting lost in the country was a probability. He was eighteen, nothing could hold him back. The police could rule it as a possible suicide or not wanting to be found. Whatever tricks they wanted to pull from their butt, it mattered not to Glynda.

In her eyes, Jaune did the biggest betrayal - running away.

Glynda had time to dangle. She was on a temporary hiatus and wasn't expected back any time soon. With Jaune at her disposal, she could do anything to him at her bidding.

They did have a lot of making up to do.

She stood up, knowing she now needed to be solution-oriented. She had enough money to hold her down for a couple of weeks. She needed to leave town. The metropolis was too large, but the duo stood out. She needed to be somewhere that was desolate but at the same time fairly new. It couldn't be anything old as older residents could easily pinpoint two foreigners. She needed to blend in without being seen, a place that no one was going to ask questions.

Which also meant she would have to temporarily expose herself out in the open.

Glynda would need to purchase tarps - one to conceal Jaune and another to prevent any potential evidence on the vehicle. She had her rental car a few blocks away on a dead end street. She would need to go to a sporting goods store to get the tarps, along with other outdoor gear in case of camping nights. She would need to pay cash. No need for a paper trail.

She walked into Jaune's bedroom. She needed a disguise. As she entered, she was surprised that Jaune's room was kept-up well. Socks and drawers categorized according to color, clothes neatly folded and stacked, books alphabetized and numerized depending on volumes of his anime. She was titillated that she didn't find any pornographic material. Not even on his laptop. Yet again, a teen that has been violated and sodomized wouldn't find anything pleasurable for quite some time. That was how she worked - always wanting to leave an everlasting impression to her toys.

She meant to say her boys.

She checked the top shelf in the closet and spotted a fedora. That could be useful to conceal her hair. She also needed an overcoat. She jokingly laughed to herself as she would easily blend in with the perverts, the shylocks, the shysters, and the downtrodden of the city. Asking how many of them sporting a fedora, sunglasses, an overcoat, and a facemask was like asking a fellow citizen if they dislike anime or manga.

She carefully laid out her needed items on the bed. With it being close to the second rush hour, she needed to be precise in timing. Plus, she needed to pack his clothes as well.

After all, she and Jaune were going on a permanent vacation.

About an hour later….

Jaune was still unconscious. His body was submerged into the icy waters in the bathtub. The ice in the tub reminded her of red crystals or red embers. She sat on the plastic stool to check on him. Tenderly stroking his blond hair, empty face, and blue lips. She told herself to hold back as she wanted to punch him in the face.

"See what you made me do," she told the unconscious Jaune. "If you would have easily comply, then I would be in this position." Absentmindedly, she spat in his face. "It's your fucking fault that I had to come all the way out here to find you. It's your fault that you made me stab you." She hit the tub. "Don't you ever in your life think you can run away. Don't you ever think that you could escape me, boy! I am your sunrise and sunset. You are my toy. And it's my decision on how I want to use my toy."

A sinister, menacing glare appeared on her face. She licked the dryness of her lips as she took a hold of his hair. "I am going to make sure that you will pay for sure, my little fishy. And when I am through with you, you would have wished to stay on my good side." She bashed his head against the wall. She did it two more times before punching his other eye.

She stood up and punched the mirror. "FUCK!" She punched it again. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Glass splintered everywhere. Blood and shards decorated her hands before she looked at the mirror. She turned back to the unconscious Jaune. "Filthy! Trash! Disgracing! Going behind my back. You're never going to leave me again, Jaune."

I am going to see to it that it doesn't happen. You're mine, Jauney! Forever and ever till death do you part!

She produced a text to his advisor that he was going to take a sick day. It gave her the allotted time to gather their supply before they take their permanent vacation. She took the phone into the kitchen and smashed the phone with a hammer. She tossed the phone into the trash can, making the assurance to take it with her on her way to her car.

She knew the bathroom door was locked - using nylon rope to tie the knob to a neighboring doorknob. She knew that in his condition, his means of escape was futile.

Now sporting her fedora and overcoat, she was making the trek to the sporting goods store to purchase her goods. On her supply list, she decided to add a small barbecue pit and charcoal to the list.

One can never be too careful when they are on the run.

To be continued….

BD: "The Taste of Rain" continues.

GOTA: Absolutely! Still need to work on Knightshade and other pairings. Although Greenshade is the best.

BD: We are still looking for artists who could draw Izuku and Blake. I've seen Emerald Rose, Golden Emerald, and White Emerald. But no Greenshade!

GOTA: More stories to come and we plan to work on our RWBY stories as well. Stay tuned!