A Taste of Vengeance
His lifeless body lay in front of me in a heap, an ever-growing pool of blood forming around him. I took a step back before it reached my feet as the moonlight glinted back at me in the thick red liquid that slithered down the knife and my hand.
The warmth of the blood that was slithering down and dripping off my arm comforted me in a way I found surprising. I was usually not one for revenge or any form of vengeance or violence, but this one anomaly felt pretty damn good.
It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. He more than did. The bastard had been using my mother as a punching bag for years before tonight. So when I heard her cry out once again, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to put an end to it.
For way too long had I stood by and done nothing when he hit, beat, and abused her. But not anymore. Today I finally did something about it.
For today was the day.
The day that he would never lay hands on her again.
