Revenge. Even the word sent a ripple of tingling energy through my body. I breathed for vengeance, and my heart beat to avenge the grievous wrong visited on me more than a year ago.
I stared at the one who did this to me. She was petite and pretty, and the smile she directed at the grocery store’s cashier was filled with promises of sweet chocolate and strawberries on a warm summer day. It made me sick. My stomach flipped over and over inside of me. She gave everyone that sickening smile. That smile was the reason for all of my troubles. She looked back at me. “Sorry it’s taking so long!” She smiled at me, and my knees felt weak. For a few moments, I just looked at her for a long time before I nodded. She returned her attention to the tattooed teen behind the counter.
It was as though she didn’t recognize me at all. That was even more unforgivable. My hand clenched on a reflex, and only willpower kept me from grabbing her right there in front of the shoppers and grocery store employees. I had to wait. It had to be private, until all she had left was public shame. Finally, she finished her purchase and walked away. I knew where she was going. There was no need to follow her.
Latex gloves, condoms, Sriracha sauce, a bag of a hundred or so zip ties, and some plain yogurt were my purchase, and the strange look the brat on the other side of the counter gave me was priceless. I paid for the items and carried them out to my Volkswagon Beetle. It was a damn good car. I slid in and absently tossed my purchases into the passenger side.
Everything was in place for tonight, except the tarps. Those needed to be spread out. I paused. No, there was something else I was missing. For a long time, I sat in my unmoving car, thinking about it. I tapped my lips and thought hard, but nothing occurred tome. I shifted gears to reverse, backed out of my parking spot, shifted to drive, and left the parking lot. The drive home would be entirely too long, so I instead went to my studio. I was squatting there, technically, so it wasn’t really mine, but that was only to my benefit. No name on the apartment meant less chance of being found. The other squatter there didn’t even know my name, let alone my face.
I arrived and walked up to my floor at the top. I had spare clothes, the tarps were ready, I had my tools-
I cut my thoughts off. That’s what was missing! I turned around and returned to the store. I bought a vegetable peeler and a knife sharpener, and once I was back at the studio, I felt fully ready. I spent an hour sharpening the peeler, and another hour preparing the various other tools I planned to use. Time was passing, but I had plenty. She would not be home for another two hours at least, and not sleep for another two after that– more if she had another of her victims with her.
For several moments, I sat still, pondering whether or not I should save this man, if he existed at all. I decided against it. I was not some kind of vigilante. Revenge was all I wanted, and it was all I was going to work for.
Finally, I became impatient, and decided to go ahead with my plan. I was shaved entirely. I scrubbed myself raw before my grocery trip. My eyelashes were plucked and replaced with some fakes, same with my eyebrows. I glued on some facial hair, pulled on some gloves, and stuffed a large, empty bag into a smaller one for easier carrying. With all of those preparations in place, I walked to her house.
The little whore’s home was in the suburbs. White picket fences lined every yard, and each lawn was mown just right. This new appearance was not unusual. I looked like her father now, at least at a glance. It was good enough. I walked right into the front door of her house, and her soft, happy voice greeted me.
“Welcome home, Daddy. You’re home early. I wasn’t expecting you for another two days.” She turned to look, then stopped. “You aren’t Daddy.” She began to back away. I was faster, and I simply grabbed her. The first thing I had to do was silence her. That soft, pink tongue had to go. I gripped her by her cheeks and pinched hard until she opened her mouth. My hips drove her forward, into the kitchen. Her stove was on, ready for tea. I grabbed a knife from its stand and rested the blade in the fire from the burner.
Her eyes shot toward it, then toward me. Terror. Her eyes were like Caribbean beach water– such a pure and lovely blue. They shone with frightened tears. Her grunts and groans, like a scared animal, made me feel powerful, like a hunter who loomed over his prey.
Her tears looked so sweet. I leaned close, and she shut her eyes. Tears fell freely down her face, and I licked her left eye, right across the eyelashes. I would have to bleach that when I was done. She whimpered and tried to back away. “Stick out your tongue.” I ordered. My voice was hoarse and throaty. “As far as you can, right now.”
She opened one eye, then slowly did as she was told. My breath caught in my throat, and I gripped that fleshy muscle and pinched hard, then lifted. I sawed it roughly. I was too eager, and I burned her mouth in several places as she sobbed and tried to pull away. Once her tongue was out, I checked for bleeding. None. I was pleased.
The little whore was more compliant after I tossed her tongue onto the counter. I was able to use the zip ties to completely restrain her, and a tarp ensured her form was disguised in the bag. She was so small, and I had been working out in preparing for this. I carried her up to the studio, and she made no noise, save when I accidentally jarred her.
I was so giddy. My revenge was beginning. Soon, she would pay dearly for her temptations.