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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Adult · #1707652
Vengance is indeed best served cold
He drove me to it. He has no one else to blame, but himself, especially since he didn’t even try to hide his infidelity. I found them in my own bed, kissing each other and laughing. It tore me apart. I can’t believe that I once promised to marry him. I wanted to tear him apart right then and there, but my gut told me to wait, to savor the moment.

I’m glad I waited because now that I look down at his rope-tied body of my ex-fiancĂ©e, I know what that old saying about revenge means. Vengeance is indeed best served cold. He’s starting to stir; I guess the sleep medication is wearing off.  I grab a chair and place it right in front of him; I sit down and study him.  He looks exactly like he did when I first met him. His hair is dark and messy, and he has a permanent smirk on his face, I used to think it was cute, but now it’s just annoying.

He opens his eyes, he still looks drowsy, but he quickly comes to his senses when he notices the rope.  He stares at me with dread written on his face. He tries to speak, but all he manages is a low grunting sound. I kick him; I didn’t even think about it, it was more like a reflex.  He’s scared; I can see it on his face.  I kick him again, harder this time.

I walk over to the table in the other end of the room. I look at the vast variety of knives that lie there. A long, jagged blade catches my attention and I pick it up. I go back to him, kneeling at his side and holding the knife up in front of his face.  He tries to squirm away from me, but he doesn’t get far.

I sit on top of his chest and drag the knife down the left side of his face. He lets out a horribly cry.  I almost drop the knife. He keeps wailing, some of the blood spills into his mouth and I feel the urge to wipe it off of his face and bandage the wound.  And for a moment I forget why I’m doing this.

Then I hear her laughter at the back of my head. The memory of her in the bed that I bought, makes me spring to action. I take a firm grip on the knife and ram it into his stomach. I twist it around, looking at his tormented face. His permanent smirk disappears, and I know it will never return.

“Now you know what it feels like, you motherfucker.”

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