Revenge is sweet, Revenge is like a warm hug from a loved one. Revenge is the best demon to ever exist. Revenge is a demon like being with a white face, no mouth, no nose, the black obis is the only intelligible thing figured for eyes which are partially covered by his black hooded robe. Revenge goes after those who deserve it. The father who abuses his child, the boy who beats you senseless at school, the girl who makes you feel worthless.
Revenge is merciless, Revenge sheds blood, breaks bones, there is no limit to Revenge. Depending on how horrible you are is how he will give punishment. Revenge shows up in the darkest corner of the room or in your mirror when you aren’t looking. You will want to die, but you can’t, not until he decides you’ve had enough, then he finally kills you. Revenge disappears into the darkness when he is finished.
I had been abused by my father for years, he had a drug and alcohol problem which caused him to take his anger out on me. He had almost taken my life a few times. Because of the things I have seen I have been diagnosed with PTSD, and when I told them about Revenge, I was locked in a mental institute.
I remember after the day my mother had finally left my father, I would visit him on weekends, and during the summer it was on week days. When my mother left him the problem only got worse. I used to hide under my bed when he would get drunk at night, hoping he didn’t find me and hurt me. I could usually hear him listening to depression country music and talking along with his drunk friends but that night it was silent.
I slowly crawled out from under my bed, pressing my ear to my bedroom door to see if I could hear anything. Still nothing. I opened the door to see if he had left or something. I couldn’t find him anywhere, not in the kitchen, not in the living room, not in his bedroom. Finally I could hear something in the bathroom so I knew I wasn’t left alone.
I decided to go back to my room before he got out of the bathroom, but I stopped in my tracks when I turned to face a figure about 7 feet tall, long black robe and no face, the black eyes looked down at me. His finger went up to the bottom half of his face as if to tell me to be quiet. I nodded at the figure, thinking I had fallen asleep under my bed and I was just dreaming, but that wasn’t the case.
Revenge will take care of children before anyone else, because children are pure, children are innocent. When I heard the bathroom door open I darted behind the dark figure without thinking so my father wouldn’t find me. For some reason this being made me feel safe, despite his horrifying appearance.
Before I could blink my father was being dragged back into the bathroom by the shadow like figure, my father screaming. I looked in horror as my father was dragged away. I didn’t budge out of fear of what I might see. The screams went on for hours, I still didn’t budge. When the screams finally stopped I forced myself to look in the bathroom.
My father laid in the floor, torn apart and beaten so bad you could hardly tell it was even human. I looked in terror at my father, but some kind of relief filled me. The figure once again put its finger to its non-existent lips and disappeared into a shadow. I looked over at the bathroom mirror to see a sentence written in my father’s blood stating, “he can’t hurt you anymore.”
To this day I am still kept in the asylum. No one believes me when I say he’s real, but they will find out. He sees everything. Are you next?
