Revenge.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I hate this one person. I wanted to express my feelings through this story.

Submitted: October 18, 2012

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Submitted: October 18, 2012

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There it was. The pink house right in front of me. So many thoughts were running through me but I remained calm. As I took a step towards the front door, my heart beat a little faster. Another step, even faster. I was ready to do it and my heart knew it. Why was it beating so fast? Was it because I was afraid of getting caught? Did I think about the sorrow of his parents and brothers? Or maybe I still had something left for him in my heart. No. It couldn't be. I picked the lock on the door pretty easily and slowly, quietly tip-toed inside. 12:08. Nobody was awake. Phew, I thought. If anybody was awake I'd be screwed! But there was something important I was forgetting....I suddenly remembered I had left the blue prints at home! My heart was beating. Fast. I thought about it quite hard! I know this house by heart. I think I can find his room. I crept up the stairs and ran my fingers on the doors. Feeling them, seeing them. I suddenly stopped. My finger on a white door en-carved with the initials, A.V.Q. This was it. Carefully, I opened the door just a crack to see he was sleeping. This was the make or break moment. My life was on the line, and so was his. I had gotten in his room successfully. Posters of Minecraft, aligned the wall perfectly. His laptop sitting on his desk asking to be opened. The green paint on his walls peeling away. His neat little closet. Everything, quiet. I carefully closed and locked the door behind me. Walking slowly over to his bed, not making the slightest sound. I was there. Right in front of him. He was sleeping not so safe anymore, and sound. I opened the pouch attached to my belt and pulled out a Kitchen knife. I'm not particularly sure what kind of knife it was, I just knew I wanted him done. I paused for a moment. I needed that extra boost. I thought about how stupid he was. How cruel and impatient he was. That no matter how hard I tried to love him, he never loved me back. How much....better my life would be. I raised the knife up. This is where it all counts. I raised the knife up higher. I felt tears swelling up in my eyes and making my vision blurry. W-why am I crying? He deserves to die.My grip tightened on the knife. "Fuck you." I said with a teary, hard voice. I plunged the knife down into his throat. He tried to scream but it was no use. All he could do was cough up tons of blood. I then cut him open watching the skin tear apart and ripped out his heart. I smashed it admiring the blood that gushed out of it. I cut out his eyeballs and dug the knife through them. I put the cut eyeballs inside of him.  I shoved the knife down the back of his throat and carved my initials into his throat. S.K. I ripped out his tongue with my bare hands and punched it through his lungs. I cut out his face and hung it on the hook on his wall. I cut through his head until I felt the skull. I then pulled out a butchers knife and began to break his skull. I carefully got to the brain. I ripped it out of his head and threw it at the door. All of a sudden a hall light turned on. I stood still. I heard feet shuffling from door to door. Than they shuffled away and the lights flickered off. Once I heard the sound of the door slamming, I ran up to his dead brain and smashed it in with my foot. I used a jar in his room and got as much blood as I could and set it on the desk. I then took everything and put it inside his stomach and stitched it up. I found a mask on his chair and placed on his face, or, where his face used to be. The skin from his face still hanging on the wall. I was done. It felt good, like I never wanted to stop, but I was done. I pulled out a blanket and covered him with it. I was breathing hard. I sat in the corner of his room. Rocking back and forth. Back and forth.....All night.  In the morning his mother came to get him but the door was locked. She was yelling things which I couldn't hear. Not because she was outside, but because I could only hear the sound of his screams. Everything was a blur. It feels like I have no control over my body. I've gone crazy and I know it. As if drunk, I smacked the jar of blood off the desk and watched it pour. Staining the carpets. Blood going through the cracks of the door. I couldn't tell much of what was happening but I could hear a distinct sound of sirens afterwards. I couldn't remember anything until I noticed I was wearing a straightjacket in a padded room with dried blood on the sides of the wall. I sat in the corner of the small room and smiled. Rocking back....And forth.


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