Motivation

Second day of August thus the second prompt of @JonicaBradley , Motivation.

MOTIVATION.

"So, what is your motivation for being this successful? What is the secret of Ms. Claire Jackson? Tell us."

I smiled, letting the heat travel to my face and spread to my ears. "There's no secret, it is pure hard work." I clasped my hands together, "Though there's one person who motivated me to be this successful."

"Aw, who is it then? Your mom?"

I slightly shook my head. "My mom is very dear to me but it's not her. It is someone who made me realize my worth."

"Perhaps a lover?"

A chuckle escaped my lips. "Who knows, right?" at the corner of my eyes, I saw my manager point to his watch."Let's sum this up here. I have another interview, scheduled today."

The journalist extended his right hand towards me. "It has been so kind of you to let me have this interview with you."

"My pleasure." I stood.

"I hope to see you again in the future," the man commented tacking his hands away.

I looked through the open door to see my manager, "Aw, we will see each other soon." I nodded and bid good bye.

......

"How are you feeling?" I took the blindfold from the man sitting in front.

"You? Why?" There was fear written all over his face. "Why are you doing this? Let me go!" he shouted struggling from his seat.

I cocked my head to the side. "You've asked me earlier who's my motivation for being successful, right?" The reporter bulged his eyes. "Well, I'm ready to answer you."

"I don't need your answer, let me go!"

"That's sad," I took a knife from the suitcase on the table at my back. "You can shout how much you want but no one will hear you."

"Crazy bitch!" The man spat on my face. "I swear I will kill you if I get out from this..."

"Aw, really?" I stab the man in his right leg dragging the blade to his knee.

"Ah! Oh my god!" cried the man.

I laughed hard. "You."

"What?"

"You are my motivation, Charles Keaton." I pulled the knife from his leg. I walked to the table and took a plaster and brandy from the suitcase. I poured the brandy into the man's wound. "This way I can enjoy you more."

"Why are you doing this?" shrieked the man trembling in pain. "I would keep my mouth shut. Just let me go. I would--"

"Stop. Stop!" I shouted. I stabbed the space between his legs, missing an inch from his manhood. "You don't get to open that mouth of yours until I say so!" I inhaled deeply calming myself. "Don't you remember me? Don't you?"

The man furiously shook his head, "You...you are Claire Jackson...the famous--"

"No. No. No. not that version of me..." I pulled a picture from my pocket, "Here do you remember this kid." Color washed from the man's face. "Now, you remember me, right?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I have changed! I swear! Please. I beg you!"

"Sorry? I should say thank you. What you did to me, flamed my desire to be successful. And now, I get to return the favor to you." I stabbed his other leg. "Do you feel pain?"

"Ah!" he cried.

"The pain I felt when everyone dismissed me because we were poor was more painful than what you are feeling right now. Money, I have it all now and I will use it the same way you did condemning that little girl." I pointed to the picture. I smiled from ear to ear. It would be a long night for both of us.