Horror House Presents

Behold my Sweet Revenge

           How dare she do this to me? How dare she? I say to myself as I pace around my kitchen. I will kill them both, show them that they can't piss on me. Show them that he can't take her from me after the years of care, and love I gave her. No, he must die, and as for her, she must too. It is the only way to make the pain die away. Yes, that's it. As every drop of blood pulsates out of their twitching bodies, my heart will fix. The shattered pieces will come back together, their screams in pain will be the glue, and their blood will add the colour back to my cold, dead, black heart.

How to do it? If I make it too quick, they won't have time to feel my pain. If I take too long, I will risk getting caught. But do I want that to happen? Without her, my life will be over anyway, so why would prison matter? What would be the point of me living? No, no that's it. Once I am done, I will turn the knife on myself. I will look into her eyes, as I raise the knife to my neck, kiss her soft cheek one last time, and boom it be over.

Grabbing my favourite knife, I sit back in my chair. I close my eyes, and gently grip the cold steel of the knife blade. I feel each of the sharp little bumps, perfect for cutting. I feel the small point, perfect for stabbing. I sit back and imagine how it will go down. Go there one night, watch the place for a while. They both need to be there for this to work, if she is missing, then it will be all for nothing.

So will wait, not too late, and break-in. I've seen the front door; it will take little effort to force. I will creep upstairs and wait, wait until the moment is right. He drinks too much, so it will be an easy job. Just catch him when he's too drunk, then pounce. Stab once and quick in each bicep, then stab, stab in the thigh. Down he goes, unable to get up and move. She will scream and jump at me. I know that that's what women do, stupid things in times of danger. One flash of the blood-soaked knife, and she will stop dead in her tracks. I won't talk, just stare, the anger will flare up in my eyes like they are on fire.

No words will need to be said.

Next is simple, the fatal wound. One quick stab to the heavily damaged and abused lung. A wound that will kill in minutes, but not too fast. He will drown in his own blood. He will have to watch her scream.

For her, I will sit down with her, cuddle her close to me. Her heart will be racing, her tears flowing down her cheeks. She will ask me why, and why not. But there will be only one answer, it's the only way to stop the pain.

Slowly I will raise the knife to her throat, my hand will shake, shake uncontrollably. Slowly I steady my hand, I take a deep breath, tasting the foul remains of pot and booze in the air. I will kiss her cheek, and this is it, I lift the knife closer, and stop. I can't do it; I just can't do it. Then realise my death is revenge.

"Goodbye my love, we will meet again." I will say before in one quick slice I cut my throat.

My last memories will be of me choking on my own blood. Leaving this world in a place not fit for a dog, yet it's my place to die. Yes, that's my plan. Tomorrow will be the night. I head off to bed happy that tomorrow it will be all over.

The next morning, I wake and turn on the news, to my shock, it reports two people are dead, it's them. High and drunk on a mixture of drugs and alcohol and just happened to wander out into the road at the wrong moment. I guess I will never get my revenge, still, I can dream.