A Tale of Sweet Revenge
She kept telling herself that it didn’t matter. Nothing but revenge mattered. Jail didn’t matter, she didn’t matter, not even he, not anymore. Only revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.
Puckering her lips, she applied a thick layer of red. Her brows were already perfectly plucked while her eyeliner was perfectly smudged. She batted her fake lashes, making her green doe eyes appear as big and innocent as possible. Her tongue brushed along her bleached teeth, wiping off any lipstick from her pearly whites. For the hundredth time, she swept the horse-hair brush through her honey curls then set it delicately down onto the counter with a soft clink. She winked at her reflection.
Her lanky tanned legs – made even longer her heels – barley brushed against one another as she strolled into her bedroom. Picking a priceless perfume by Chanel, she spritzed a little of the scent around her body, then stepped into the cloud of fragrance. Next, she slipped on silver bracelets, shaking her arm until the comfortable clunking sound could be heard. After slipping into her favorite, tight, black cocktail dress, she grabbed her keys from the dining room table and closed the door with a bang behind her.
A while later, she pulled into an almost rundown gas station. Slamming the convertible door and locking it, she strutted over to the glass door of the poor food sales and walked in, ignoring the gawking rednecks as she passed them by. Where is it? Where is it! She passed by the isles of crackers and cups, Hoo-Hoo’s and first-aid kits.
Ah! Here it is! Bending over, she grabbed the red plastic of the gasoline, a book of matches, and a box of cigarettes. Grunting slightly at the weight, she shuffled up the counter where the sun-burnt cashier was waiting, twirling a wooden toothpick between his yellowed teeth.
“You checkin’ that out, Looker?” his accent was strong.
“Huh? What’s that?”
“Nothing. Just check me out,” she sighed, “Places to be. Things to burn,” she mumbled.
“What was that?” the ape spoke loudly.
“Nothing!” she clenched her fists in frustration. “Just check me out, or I’m walking out of her without paying!”
The man’s eyes, glazed with awe, ran up and down her body. “I’m definitely checkin’ you out, girl. Don’t you worry ‘bout that.”
With that comment, the woman grabbed her items, pushed them into a bag, walked out, and ignored the beeping alarm as she breezed through the door.
The room was lit by candles. The two of them were rolling around the floor; clothing off and the smell of love strong. She had to fight them impulse to growl while it took the rest of her self-control not to tap on the window. Gripping the gasoline tighter and the matches closer, she backed away from the window.
Carefully, she walked around the perimeter of the house, letting the gasoline leek from the container in plentiful amounts. She hoped they were too distracted to smell the dissent smell of gas. Taking out the matches, she brushed the head against the rough side of the box, her blood pumping rapidly though her veins. She let the fire catch, and watched as the flamed moved from ring of gas to the wood of the house. Letting out a shaky breath she hadn’t know that she had been holding, she walked back to her car on unstable feet.
She lit a smoke, opening her window and letting the grey dance out the window with a will of its own. Her slim hand shook, betraying her. So much betrayal. So much, so much. Turning her head away from the window, she slammed it down onto the dash board repeatedly until she was sure a welt would form. She felt the need to cry swell, but she nipped the disgrace in the bud, keeping the sob low in her throat. He, they, didn’t deserve her tears.
Sirens bellowed in the distance. The surrounding houses were bathed in flashing red and blue lights. Eventually, the fire trucks arrived. Turning the keys into the ignition, she patted the empty container next to her, dropped her finished cigarette out the window and onto the street, and sped off; never looking back.
Everybody out for my blood
Everybody want my percent…
They just want to take what is mine
How much more can you get?
I already know what they want
I already know what they spent…
I'm about to get what they owe
Gonna get back what they stole…
Every time I walk in the door
They just wanna take...
But I won’t stop till they know…
just a little btw - I do not own the song bit above(s). But I do own/thought of/created the story. So, contiune forth.