Revenge

REVENGE 

Et Tu, Brute? 

By Camille Clarke 

Dusty's face was bruised, his mouth was swollen, and he sported a black eye and wounds to his body. He trembled with fear, stammering as he softly and a bit hesitantly answered.  

“Who did this to you?” Mark asked standing in front of his brother. What mess did he get into this time? 

“It was Gregg,” Dusty looked away, hanging his head in shame.  

Mark did not need to hear anymore. He already hated Gregg. He waited years for any excuse to pound him. He felt his anger building as he hurriedly left the house. Gregg hated their family, and Mark did not have any love for him either. Years ago, Gregg reported their family to the health department for raising poultry in a residential area. It was a new by-law that stated no poultry and other farm animals can be raised within the city limits.  

Their grandma didn’t know it was the law. She raised animals there on her property for years. Mark did not know the new by-law either and it hurt him to see his grandmother’s animals being taken away by the health inspector and other city workers. In Mark’s eyes his grandma could do no wrong. 

Mark opened the gate quietly as he arrived at Gregg’s house. It looked as if he was having a little party. Gregg sat near a large round table, idly chatting with some older men. 

Mark pulled out a long sword from under his black cape and walked slowly towards Gregg.  

Gregg squinted his eyes in the dark. There were still remnants of light outside as the sun was setting on the horizon. The orange hue of the clouds was still out in beautiful array. Despite its beauty it did nothing to calm Mark’s heart. 

The yard smelled of burnt firewood and barbecue. Gregg's manservant was standing on the verandah, his mouth open in shock. 

The men at the table ran towards the gate as Mark’s sword scraped on the colorful tiled pathway. 

“I been wanting to do this a long time,” he said softly. 

Gregg raised his hands. “Did you come to exact revenge? He (Dusty) deserved it,” he said waving his hands as he walked towards a rack that held some swords. 

During the day Gregg taught karate to his students. He was a third-degree black belt and was good at teaching self-defense.  

Mark only smirked. Gregg could take any sword he wanted. He did not care. Gregg picked up the Quick Reaper. The Quick Reaper was a sword known throughout the martial arts community. It had taken many lives. Mark did not care which sword Gregg took up. 

He was also a student of martial arts for years. Everyone knew Mark was someone who shouldn’t be messed with. His father had schooled him in the ways of self-defense and more. Unfortunately, their dad died five years ago from a heart attack. 

The two men faced each other, taking up a martial arts stance.  

Mark rushed in with his trusty sword, swinging it towards Gregg who quickly blocked this attempt. The two men were good at martial arts. Mark became frustrated as Gregg blocked his attempts. Jumping on a table to get away. 

“Why did you come here? I had every right to teach him a lesson, "Gregg said blocking a move, slicing his hand. 

The men continued to battle. Mark cornered him. A size 14 shoe passed in his face. 

Mark brandished the powerful sword catching him unawares. The shiny blade sliced his chest. 

Blood came out of the wound and out of his mouth. 

Gregg gurgled. His teeth and his clothing were stained red from the blood. 

The men were so involved, and they did not see Errol looking at the fight. Errol was Gregg’s only son. A sob rattled his throat. He could see life leaving his father. He picked up a master sword that was kept inside the house and made his way through the back. Errol was blinded by his desire to exact revenge for his father. He heard his mother release a shrilling scream, but this did not stop him. 

Mark stood above Gregg, pulling at the neckline of his shirt. 

Life already left Gregg. His eyes barely closed. His body went limp. 

Several men and neighbors crowded the front gate, whispering as Gregg passed. 

“Master,” one man shouted holding Dusty up. He was being escorted by a crowd and leaned heavily on one man known to their family. 

“I didn’t know you were going to do this,” Dusty said explaining that he attempted to rob Gregg’s house and injured his manservant and some other family members in the chaos. He claimed he was deep in debt and did not want to ask Mark for money. 

The elderly men in the community gathered at Gregg’s home to talk about the incident and brought Dusty over to see the fight. 

“What?!”  

Mark could not believe what he was hearing. He just killed a man for no reason. His eyes clouded over. He felt drained and confused. Dusty deserved the punishment. 

He stumbled over some gravel. His steps were small as he walked home. Rain began to drizzle but he did not care. His clothing was dirty from the blood, sweat and tears.  

“Mark...?” Dusty called out to him, but he did not answer. He was tired. Just tired. 

Mark looked down and stared at his blood-stained hands. Tears fell from his eyes. He felt all the color draining from his face. A cold finger touched his spine. What did he do?  

As he came through the main gates he could see his mother, Iris, and daughter, Jenny, laying lifeless on the ground. 

What happened here? 

A cracking of leaves drew his attention. It was Errol. 

“You took my father’s life. Now you pay,” The voice broke through Mark’s self-loathing.  

Errol said, "You took my father from me. Now I took what was precious to you.”  

In one swift movement Errol lifted a long blade to his own neck. A small smirk touched his lips. Before Mark could move Errol swiped the blade across his own neck. 

Bloody bubbles lined the opened wound on his neck. His eyes became glassy as he took his own life. 

“Nooooooooo!” Mark shouted running in his direction. 

He would not get the opportunity to exact revenge for the deaths of his daughter and mother. 

Mark cradled his head in his hands and rocked back on his feet and shook his head. 

I caused this. I cannot make this right, Mark whispered and looked up to the sky as tears came.  

I caused this. Mark fell to his knees. He did not feel the gravel grating into his thighs. 

Iris’s eyes were open, her lips slightly apart. Her left hand was stretched out in Jenny direction. 

Mark touched Jenny’s little fingers and cupped them, gently touching his face. His tears fell on her little palms. The blood on his hands smeared her little fingers and her face. 

Rob shook his head. “Mother........I love you,” he whispered still cradling Jenny.  

“What have I done? " A sob choked and swelled in his throat. He swallowed. Liquid drained from his nostrils. Mark looked at the sky. He knew he was wrong but at the time he felt he was exacting revenge for his brother. He did not have the facts and left hurriedly to exact revenge.