Revenge on those who seek to hurt

TW//: Violence, Slight gore, Murder, substance abuse, Mental Health

It was the birth of dawn; the sun rose and made the gun in my hand gleam slightly dim. I made my intentions well known and set in stone. I was on my way to kill the sorry bastard that ended my father's life.

My dad had a troubling situation going on here and there. He loaned money from the wrong people, got scooped into the crowd. His lifestyle was dangerous, but he wasn't doing what he could to sustain his family. He borrowed, and borrowed money and when the day to pay it back came, he couldn't. His debt swallowed him up; he couldn't work to pay it back, there was too much of it.

I remember what he said to me before; He told me that when mom dropped me off for the weekend, we were going to have the best time together. Even though I'm sixteen, he still treats me like his precious little boy, and I am perfectly okay with that. But the next morning police found him dead inside his trailer. Brutally murdered. Limbs broken, multiple stab wounds, gunshots to the head. 

The monsters made him suffer. So, that little organization of theirs? I'll kill them all. Every single one that deprived him of a quick death will die by my hand. I brought my knives along with me, I don't plan on breaking any limbs… but I will give the torturess death that my father was forced to suffer through and make them have the same fate. They do not deserve a quick death, they do not get to have that pleasure.

I'm driving in my truck and I'm halfway to my destination. Rage and fury made me clench my jaw, the anger was practically seething out of me. I could only imagine what I was going to do to these wretched people. I was speeding on the highway, gripping the wheel tight. Switching lanes to avoid cars, and to avoid people who knew me. 

The police cleared me of suspicion when I told them all I knew and checked my alibi. They knew I wasn't capable of killing the only family member who brought me joy. But our stupid shitty little small town was filled with bigoted idiots they claimed and shrieked when they saw me, saying that it was me who killed him.that i was a psychopath. They never stopped to see the truth. They only saw me when I was yelling at them to leave me alone. Aggression. They only saw me when I was running away from the crazies. Guilty conscious. They only saw me when I was wearing hats, hoods, masks, and sunglasses to hide me from them. Shady.

They never saw me crying alone at his funeral because no one else showed up. They never saw me on his grave, screaming and begging for him to come back. They didn't see me on the days where I would lay in bed all day, not sleeping, not eating. My mom tried her best to console me, she really did. But I was too far gone in my depression.my dad was dead and the whole town thought i was the one who killed him. I was in pain, and no one stopped to see me. Really see me. I was drinking, smoking, doing anything to just feel something or to lose myself as well. Something to bring me to where he was, to the beyond and into the afterlife waiting for me. I knew he was waiting, wherever he was he was waiting on me. So we could have fun for the rest of time itself. 

God.

I was so fucking ready to kill these monsters.

 Speaking of which, I have shown up at destination number one. The ones who killed my dad. There were two men, they lived in the same trailer because they were partners in their killings. Weapons spread around inside it, my dad had taken me here one time so he could give a little payment to them. I had seen the inside when the door opened, guns strapped to the wall, compartments with knives, red with blood. Fresh blood.

I pulled into the driveway, tucked several knives in my pockets and put gloves on my hands. I walked up the gravel path to the door. I knocked three times on the door and got a knife ready in my hand. One opened the door to check who it was, his face was scruffy and he was groggy. I must have just woken him up, which was perfect for my planned out murder.

He yawned before asking, “Aren't you Jacobs boy-” he said before I shoved a knife through his gut. He hollered in pain and reached for the phone, trying to call his partner to come help him but I shot him in the leg twice and he fell to the ground. 

“FUCK! WHAT THE HELL MAN” he screamed in pain at me. My expression stoic and yet slightly amused.

“You killed my dad,” I said as I dropped down and pulled a knife out of him, “And now I kill you” I stabbed the knife back inside him. He wailed in pain and I twisted it, I pulled another knife out and punctured him in the leg. Dragging it down his leg and tearing his skin. His hand came up as if to hit me but I threw a knife and it hit the center of his palm and pinned it to the wall. He spat out profanities in agony. I looked up to the wall to see the holy grail of causing pain to someone. A baseball bat, with nails in it. 

I reached out and grabbed it off the wall. I turned back to see him on the ground, face as white as snow. Fear arose in his eyes and tears festered. He pleaded to live, begging me. He offered me money, or protection but I ignored his attempts at life. I brought it up in the air and slammed it down into his skull. I heard it crack and pop. 

I smile intensely, maybe I am a psycho now. 

I heard a car pull up in the driveway, I looked out the window to see low and behold the other one walking up. He eyes my truck with unfamiliarity and walks past it.

I hide behind the door with the bat. 

He walked in and gasped, covering his mouth as he eyed his partner on the ground all torn up. I raised the bat in the air just as he looked over and saw me. His eyes widened just before I heard another crack and pop. His body slammed down and hit the floor with a loud thud. A satisfied smile formed on my face and I went out to my truck. I grabbed a small bottle of vodka with a rag in and did what all people do in action movies. I lit it on fire and threw it at the house. 

I got in my truck and pulled out just as the house caught on fire and blew up.

I got on the road again, not having to worry about someone seeing their house. It was hidden behind thick trees. That fire would go until even their bones would be ash. I drove on my way to the destination that was left. It wasn't very far but it was a nice house that I would soon paint red with his blood. I put on a mask and sunglasses, for once to hide who I was for a heinous crime. 

I checked the door.

Unlocked

I walked in the door and knew exactly where to go. I found him lying in bed for a nap. I got my knives out and stabbed several through him. He awoke screaming in pain.

This was the ignorant fool who ordered a kill on my dad.

I stabbed again and again, seeking to cause him the most pain as possible. I took out my gun and shot him in the stomach and the legs several times.

He screamed and screamed and I just smiled with a crazed look on my face. He started to choke on his own blood and half laughed at him.

“You shouldn't have killed him you piece of shit.” I said walking out. 

I drove back home, and sat on my porch smoking.

Whoever said revenge didn't feel good, was a fuckin idiot.

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Stay cool

-The Author (me)

Minor Edits By

L. M. Huntwork (thanks for the help)

check out his works as well.

Mustang Patty (check their works out!)