Did It Hurt When You Died?

SECRETS

TW: Death, Violence, Gore

Inspired by No Body, No Crime. -Taylor Swift

❛❛「₪」❜❜

Do you know what's the one thing that feels even better than revenge? Avenging someone.

As I carry the body on my back, I smile to myself. Contented. Proud. Relieved. The weight on my shoulders that pushes me down does nothing. That's because the weight in my heart was set free today.

Everything I did to get here, I did gladly. I find myself not regretting anything at all. Because it was all worth it in the end.

Every drop of blood that was shed, every cry that left his soul, every sob that escaped him, every apology, every request, every plead for mercy; it all made me feel better.

But the ending, that was the best part.

"You think you can set yourself free?" I scoff at his vain attempt.

He sighs in frustration, which enrages me more than I already am. I'm not used to not being answered. I do not appreciate it.

I uncross my legs and lift my right leg. The red heel pokes at his chest ever so slightly. "I asked you a question."

No answer. All he does is lift his head to meet my eyes briefly, unimpressed. And then he spits on my leg.

Now, I am by nature an impatient woman. But I never let it show. So while this act of defiance makes me want to strangle him, all I do is raise an eyebrow.

"I don't appreciate so much boldness. Not from a man who should be crying and begging to be set free anyway."

"Whatever makes you think I'm going to give you the satisfaction of that?"

"Don't make me."

"Oh, I dare you to. I bet you don't have it in you to kill a fucking fly. End this madness because we both know it'll bring you noth—"

My heel digging into his cheek somewhat muffles his words. Good thing. His voice makes me sick anyway.

"I think you meant 'sorry'."

"In your dreams, you b— AH!"

A trickle of blood slides from the edge of his lip, slowly making its way to his neck, until his white collar soaks it.

"You were saying?"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

"Easy now," I whisper, crossing my legs again, "we'll get there soon. Though, I think you already have an idea."

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about."

"No?"

"No."

"So shall we get straight to the point then?" I tilt my head, amused.

"Look, whatever you want, just tell me and I'll get it arranged, okay? Just stop this madness."

Madness seems to be quite an accurate word indeed.

"Whatever I want?"

"WHATEVER you want." He looks at me with a hope in his eyes which resembles the hope of a parent convincing their child that Santa is, in fact, real.