Revenge: A Short Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short story I wrote about a theoretical revenge scenario.

“A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green” - Francis Bacon

His sweat-laden palms tremored slightly as they tended to do after any vigorous exercise, and as he settled his semi-clothed body into the bed, Ken closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Anna got up from the bed next to him and entered the adjacent bathroom. The dusty air of the motel’s cooling unit chilled the sweat on his face and he wiped at it, clearing away some of the tangible remnants of the prior act. A siren could be heard in the distance. Anna was the last one. The difficult part was finally over. She stepped out of the bathroom smiling and he was ready to do what he had to do. Her innocent grin suggested she was up for another round, but of course he would let her down easy. He had no intention of having sex with her ever again. The final act was complete, and it had been secretly committed to the spools of the hidden video camera behind the headboard of the stained bed.

The year was 1998, 3 years after THE ACT had been committed against him. It had been a long road, but a very necessary journey.

Anna left a few moments later, as expected. She had no choice after he told her about his “wife” and “family”. He knew it would be easier on her in the long term, and certainly easier than her knowing the truth.

His desire for revenge had become all-consuming. Living a life of single minded purpose, all external desires suppressed. His day revolved around it - he worked out in the morning to increase his overall appeal. He studied the socio-economics of rural Uganda to appease Kate. He learned guitar to appeal to Rose - she was a sucker for musicians and he developed quite a knack for it. But any enjoyment of these daily activities became dulled - he was a single minded creature with a purpose.

Later that evening the rain beat against his window as he sat at his computer, his finger hovering over the mouse. After a deep breath and steadying of the hand he clicked “render” and the video was outputted to a DVD. A few minutes passed and with a ‘ding’ the drive automatically opened upon completion and he took the DVD out, holding it for a moment. The physical representation of his labours. He held the final product of his months of toiling; of exacting the perfect plan for revenge. He expected this moment to be filled with joy - but instead it was indifference, perhaps a touch of sadness. There wasn’t one moment in the prior 24 months that he hesitated. Not when he filmed himself with any of the women, not while planning, not even when he waited outside in the aforementioned rain for 3 hours that particular Friday as he waited for Jodie to return home from her yoga lesson, waiting for her to round the corner and “bumped into” her - carrying his own unused Yoga mat.

But he had come too far to stop now.

Ken was careful not not victimize any of the women. He entered their lives at a time when each of them were looking for a temporary fling. He let them all down easy after having sex with them just once, and none of them had known about the other. Kate was married at first so he decided to wait for her, and sure enough, 15 months later she was divorced and at a bar looking for companionship. For the plan to work acceptably he had to enter and exit their lives painlessly - Perhaps become a cautionary tale to their friends over a few drinks, then forgotten just as quickly. In his quest to get revenge on someone that had hurt someone who was his everything, he couldn’t and wouldn’t hurt anybody else.

He grabbed the DVD and walked down the street towards the mailbox. It was done. In a few short days his enemy would open the package and pop the DVD into his laptop. The disc would whir to life and on the screen would be 4 video feeds compiled onto one screen. Each video screen would be of the same act, with different women and him as the only consistent character. 4 different women being fucked by the same man as they faced the camera. text on the screen would indicate who the women were. They were his enemies sister, mother, girlfriend and ex-girlfriend. He wanted his enemy to experience what it was like to watch someone he loved being violated, just as he had. The imprint on his brain would become burned into it until the day he died. You can’t cleanse that thought away.

He stood in front of the mailbox as he noticed his hands trembling once again. It had been a long journey. He took one last glance at the mailbox, dropped the package into the slot and held both of his hands together in an effort to calm them. He closed his eyes.


Submitted: October 25, 2014

© Copyright 2021 Douglas Quaid. All rights reserved.

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