Awakening my Vengenance

I stood at the edge of the bridge, staring down at the murky water below. It seemed almost peaceful, the way the waves lapped gently against the supports—a stark contrast to the storm that raged inside me. This place had always drawn me, even before my life had crumbled into the mess it was now. The idea of ending it all here, where the world had finally broken me, felt almost poetic. As I looked down, the distance between the bridge and the water blurred, becoming just one more thing I couldn’t quite focus on anymore.

I hadn’t come here on a whim. It had been building for months, this gnawing need to escape. It started with the little things—nights when I couldn’t sleep, days when I couldn’t eat. Then the betrayal, the slow unraveling of everything I thought I knew, everything I believed in. My so-called friends, who I trusted with my darkest secrets, had twisted those secrets into weapons, turning them against me. It was all a joke to them, something to gossip about over drinks, not caring that their laughter cut deeper than any blade.

I remember the first time I found out. They hadn’t even bothered to hide it, talking openly about me in that smug, superior way they had. I stood just around the corner, listening as they dissected my life, my pain, with the casual indifference of people who believed they were untouchable. My best friend—no, my ex-best friend—had been the worst, laughing the loudest, spreading rumors about my sexuality with a gleeful malice that left me reeling. They knew I was different, knew how much it hurt to be misunderstood, to be labeled as “broken” or “cold.” But instead of supporting me, they used it against me, mocking my inability to fit into their narrow definitions of love and normalcy.

The final blow came from my family. My parents, who had always expected so much of me, were too blind to see how much I was struggling. I had spent my entire life trying to live up to their impossible standards, and when I finally buckled under the pressure, they turned their backs on me. My father’s cold dismissal, my mother’s disappointed silence—they didn’t say it outright, but I knew what they were thinking. I was a failure. A disappointment. Unworthy of their love. 

But the worst part was the loneliness. The crushing, all-consuming loneliness. In a world obsessed with sex, I was an outsider, someone who wouldn’t—or couldn’t—conform to the expectations placed on me. Every attempt at explaining my feelings, or lack thereof, was met with confusion or pity. They saw me as incomplete, as if my lack of desire for a sexual relationship made me less of a person. Even those who claimed to understand eventually distanced themselves, leaving me alone in a world that felt increasingly hostile.

So here I was, standing on this bridge, the weight of all that pain pressing down on me, suffocating me. It wasn’t just the betrayals, the loneliness, the endless parade of people who had used me and tossed me aside. It was the emptiness. The way the world had drained every ounce of color and joy from my life, leaving me in a perpetual state of gray. I was done. Done fighting, done hoping, done pretending that things would ever get better. I had nothing left to give.

The wind howled, tugging at my hair, and I shivered, not from the cold but from the fear that maybe—just maybe—I was making a mistake. But that thought was fleeting, drowned out by the overwhelming desire to make it all stop. My fingers gripped the cold railing, the metal biting into my skin, grounding me in this one last moment of decision. I closed my eyes, trying to summon the courage to let go, to finally end this misery.

"Why do it"  a voice, dark and smooth as velvet, whispered in my ear. My eyes snapped open, and I spun around, but no one was there. I was alone on the bridge—or at least, I thought I was.

"I know what they did to you," the voice continued, now inside my head, weaving through my thoughts like a serpent. "I know the pain they’ve caused, the lies they’ve told. And I know how much you want to make them pay."

My heart raced, fear and curiosity mingling in my chest. "Who…who are you?" I whispered, though I already knew this was no ordinary voice.

"I am the one who can give you what you want," it replied, a cold chuckle echoing in the darkness. "Power. Strength. The ability to turn your sorrow into vengeance. They took everything from you, and now, I offer you the chance to take it all back."

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to seep into my mind. "I don’t care about revenge," I lied, my voice trembling. "I just want it to end."

"Liar," the entity hissed, and I felt a cold breath on the back of my neck. "You crave justice, retribution for the way they shattered your life. Your so-called friends who betrayed you, the family who turned their backs, the world that refused to understand you. I can help you make them suffer, just as they made you suffer."

Images flashed through my mind—memories of the people who had pushed me to this edge, their cruel words, their mocking laughter, their indifference as I crumbled under the weight of my despair. They had destroyed me, piece by piece, and the world had watched and done nothing.

My grip on the railing tightened, and a new emotion surged within me: anger. Pure, undiluted rage. I had spent so long drowning in my own sadness, but now, that sadness was being burned away by the fire ignited within me. Why should they get to walk away, unscathed, while I was left to suffer? Why should I be the one to end it all, when they were the ones who had driven me here?

The voice sensed the change in me, and I could almost feel it smiling. "That’s it," it purred. "Embrace it. The pain they’ve caused you, the hopelessness—they deserve to feel it, too. And with my power, you can deliver it to them."

I hesitated, the last shreds of my humanity clinging to the idea that vengeance would only deepen my suffering. But the voice’s allure was too strong, the promise of release too tempting to resist. I was tired of being weak, tired of being the victim.

"What do you want in return?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Nothing much," it said, almost casually. "Just your soul. A small price to pay for the power to rewrite your fate."

I should have felt fear, but all I felt was a sense of inevitability. I had already been dead inside for so long—what was my soul compared to the satisfaction of seeing them all fall? The world had taken everything from me, and now I had a chance to take something back.

I released my grip on the railing, stepping away from the edge. I could feel the entity’s presence enveloping me, its power coursing through my veins, filling the emptiness inside with a dark, intoxicating strength.

I thought of them—the ones who had driven me to this point, who had laughed as I bled. My lips curled into a smile, the first genuine one in what felt like forever.

"I’m ready," I said, my voice steady, filled with a new sense of purpose.

The entity’s laughter echoed in my mind, and its final words were a promise of the darkness I was about to embrace.

"Do you accept?" it asked, though it already knew my answer.

I closed my eyes, letting the last vestiges of my former self slip away. When I opened them again, I was no longer the broken girl standing on the edge of the bridge. I was something more, something powerful, something unstoppable.

And so, with a voice as cold and resolute as the night around me, I spoke the words that would seal my fate.

"I do."