Revenge of a Broken Man

That night, the words of my father lingered on…

“Son, never allow wrongdoing without vengeance. Each time someone crosses you, don’t simply double-down, but make them pay threefold – they crossed you even if they didn’t have to!”

…that night, after I finally found him…for so many years he’s kept himself hidden under a fake identity, a different address, with his wife and kids. Who would’ve even thought this man could live a life so familial, so ordinary, so fake?

That night I entered a house; no one had heard me, nor suspected what I would do in the moments that would follow – he was upstairs, fucking his wife. Unnoticed, I entered the room and observed their act. He fucked his wife with the same fervor I could have been fucking my own, if only he hadn’t killed her. Slowly, I reached into my coat to pull out a silenced Beretta, its sights set on his head as he fucked her ever harder, itching to climax; turning the light on, I let my presence be known. The sight of an unknown man in black pinning them down with a suppressed gun sent shockwaves down their spines.

“Keep fucking,” I uttered quietly, carefully, confidently enough.

“Please don’t harm my wi..”

“I said keep fucking, or both of you will fade the fuck away!” I stopped him.

I then took out a camera and started recording the ordeal. They glanced in awe as his wife started sobbing.

“Don’t mind the recording. Keep it going.”

I recorded them fucking. What was at first sloppy, within minutes resembled rhythm and intensity. She didn’t stop bawling her eyes out, but her husband…he fucked her hard, with intention, as if the whole affair fired him up in the most primal way. I recorded for minutes, as he was reaching for orgasm.

“You will cum inside her,” my soft whisper contrasted his wife’s loud cries.

I saw sweat building up on his forehead, dripping on her face as his muscles started to contract and tremble. I put the barrel on his behind, indicating I wanted him to be even faster. He obliged, fucking her hard and fast, up until the moment —orgasm!

A split second before he came, I shot him in the head. His wife screamed and cried but was instructed not to move. I pressed his dead body onto hers, supporting their work to be fruitful. A few moments passed… I took his dead cock out of her; sperm was flowing out of her vagina. Then it hit me; everything went according to plan —a dead body gave way to a new life, a new body, one that she will bear for months. I made her get dressed. It was rather difficult to make a woman listen to anything in a situation like this, so I made sure to show her a photo of her kids to let her know that listening to me is much needed. I restrained her to a chair in the dining room and assembled the blood-drawing equipment from a bag I left on their porch. I drew half a liter of her blood, then sprinkled it over the bed where her husband lay dead. I shot her up with a sleeping injection and took her to a room I spent weeks preparing.

“Welcome to your new room!” I said. “This will be your home for months to come.”

I put her in a room in a basement I dug in my own yard, a few feet away from the house, secluded enough that no one would be able to hear potential screams. To make sure of this, the basement was made to be completely soundproof. The room was equipped well enough, with everything necessary for a sustained living. To make sure no visible proof of the basement existed, the entrance to it was a tunnel leading down from my own house. Within her confines, she lived for 9 months —since conception. I took it upon myself to treat her as a crowning jewel; she was given everything she needed; all the while being monitored by surveillance cameras. I feared her self-harm inclinations, so I hired people —who swore silence— to keep her every step in check. Each time she spoke of her husband, tears would roll down her face, but that wasn’t problematic. Getting her to eat was. At first, I administered IV and force fed her, then as time went on, it’s as if she made peace with her fate and accepted my treatment in its entirety. Her saving grace were kids —the 2 of them she had left to grandma the night before. Naturally, they found out what happened, seeing as I was one of the officers working that very case — though they were 6 and 7 years old, both understood the events. I wanted hatred to fuel these kids’ growing up, to pursue me their entire lives. Their grandmother wasn’t a particularly wealthy woman, which led me to take financial care of them both – to the best of my ability.

Seeing her mental faculties steadily deteriorate, I decided to break the ice and bring her a tape of me conversing with her kids, so as to let her know they’re safe and sound. In it, the kids were explained the death of their father, and their mother’s blood splattered on the bed. These kids, young as they are, believed their mother was dead. The tape sent her into hysteria, to an extent where I was actually distressed about the health of her unborn child; I couldn’t have continued to chug her full of antidepressants and sleeping pills, so I kept manipulating her into believing my fairy tales, my promises. I made her believe the kids were taken good care of – and they were.

Those 9 months, lucky as they were, went by without incidents. As she was nearing her labor, I spent my time close, seeking no complications. Certain time passed, and the clock struck labor. Quickly, I assembled a team, fired the auxiliary cameras up and prepared the room for childbirth. Beneath the table she was laid on was a pistol her husband had been killed with. Strapped to the table, she went into labor, all the while I was standing near, observing intently. With the baby halfway out, I took out the gun and shot the woman dead. As her labor continued, I reflected – once more, a dead body gave way to a new life, a new body. I was halfway through my endgame.

The baby was a 6-pound girl. Her mother’s body had been taken to a house where I shot her husband. It was still auctioned. A few days would pass, and a body would be found – a case that swept the media for a couple weeks, until it passed to memory.

I raised that girl as if she were my own. It was difficult to raise a motherless child, but money paved the way. She had a happy childhood, friends, people who faked being a family to her. I never insisted she became a fierce, independent woman; instead, I taught her to depend on my benevolence; spoiled, bratty, and emotional! Everything went according to plan, exactly as I’d imagined it!

Forced into retirement, it was time to hang the badge. It aligned perfectly with Regina’s coming of age, who transformed into a grown woman.

Even though many years have passed since “the incident”, I purposely kept contact with the deceased couple’s kids, who have since formed their own families. Everything was perfect, exactly as I’d planned it all those years ago!

The final chapter of my plan swung in full motion after I collected the tapes, I recorded 18 years ago and called the eldest son of their family, saying:

“Hey Jeremy. There’s something I need you and Jared to see regarding your late parents. Can you come around tonight?”

“Hey, Ben. We’ll be there. What’s the deal?”

“You’ll see it all tonight. It’s really important for both of you to show up.”

“Alright, see you tonight, Ben. Thank you.”

So, it was. They finally arrived at my house. I felt as if all these years sped by so fast, while the hours I waited for their arrival seemed as if time froze still. I lived for this moment, I lived for vengeance to take its final form tonight! Finally, as they assembled in the house, I called for Regina to be present as well.

A dinner had been cooked for all the guests, in which —unbeknownst to all— I put sleeping pill powder in to be able to strap everyone to their chairs, looking up to the TV. After they awoke, I played the first tape —the killing of their father.

“You’re probably wondering what it is you’re watching? Well, you’re watching a material that may confuse you, may shock you, and may scare you. Perhaps you might find yourself desiring to get out of that chair and stick a knife deep inside my neck? Who knows. What’s important, though, is that you’re watching your parents fucking. As you can see, I made sure your late father made one last beautiful thing before he died, the mistress sitting beside you —Regina! As you can see, having just conceived her, he left this world for good.”

Strapped to their chairs with mouths bound, screaming was futile. I saw the pain in their eyes, the pain that accumulated and precipitated in their hearts for years finally surface. Beside the pain, I saw what I desired to see —terrible hatred, inflamed by this revelation, this eternal question, their biggest torment. All these years I played a father figure for Regina, I pretended to be their friend, all for this moment! Nonetheless, I played the second tape:

“In this video you’re seeing your mother giving birth, only to join your father moments after. A whirlwind of emotions is clashing in your eyes, yet I see curiosity, so allow me to indulge you. You see, 23 years ago, your father did something hideous —he drunkenly ran my fiancé over with his car, killing her on the spot. Since he was a wealthy man, he faced no repercussions inside or outside the court, so he forged his identity and ran abroad with his wife – and you, ladies and gentlemen. Shortly thereafter, I was crushed, bordering on suicide, but I decided to exact vengeance upon the bastard! To collect as much cash as I could, I delved into the underworld, becoming a police officer in the meantime to maximize my sovereignty and to be able to keep a leash on the location of your father. Sometime would pass, and I had collected more than enough to begin crafting my vengeful masterplan; I prepared a room to keep your mother in during labor, and after, I followed your parents day in, day out to catch them doing what they were supposed to be doing. That night, while you stayed with your grandma, I trespassed into your house while you stayed over at your grandma’s, and afterwards I did what had to be done —the blood you saw spilled on the bed was the blood I drew from your mother to lead the police into a goose chase; she was alive and well, awaiting labor in my perfectly designed quarters. You might be asking why I killed her too? Well, why did your father kill my own wife and unborn kid? At this moment, you might be aware of what’s to come —see that pistol over there? I used it to kill your parents, and now I’ll use it to kill your sister right in front of you two.

I lit my cigarette and watched them squirm and cry, desperately trying to stop what was inevitable from the start. I inhaled, took a sip of scotch, opened my eyes and… cried. I remembered you, my dear love, and our child that never saw the light of day. I attached a silencer to my Beretta and pointed it to Regina’s head, just as I’d done to her parents before. I felt swarmed by her feelings; her having lived a life of deceit, to sheer shock having presented her with the facts of the matter at hand. All of these emotions vicariously fed my deeply sown hatred further still, but…it fed me not. I began sympathizing. She was something akin to a daughter, after all, having spent 18 years raising her, but then I saw what I’d done —I saw weakness in her eyes, compounded by a lavish lifestyle I put her through. I saw anguish where I haven’t seen it before. Everything I did, I did intently, just so she feels the encapsulating suffering of the entire world on her shoulders, the suffering I felt all these years! At the table, I took a knife and cut her throat, then watched her struggling to catch breath, with her hands strapped and mouth bound. At that moment her anguish might have even surpassed mine, but the words of my father came to me once more —this time, innocent blood will have washed everything that man did to me. I let her suffocate in her own blood for a few seconds, then grabbed my Beretta and put a stop to the journey that took years to come to a close. That Berretta was a birthday gift from my fiancé, bought days before she died. I never shot a bullet out of her, save for the three bullets in the magazine when he was released from custody. Those bullets brought no comfort, but more pain. Without my wife, all I was left with was revenge, and now…it’s gone. I left the gun at the table, gave the boys a sleeping injection to the neck, and freed them, leaving the house.

Even though they deserved their own revenge, I gave them no chance and turned myself in. Upon admitting what I’ve done, I saw the pair entering the police station. They were helpless. They live the pain that I lived, that I still live.

I’m now locked up in this prison, lacking daylight and with little food. I await our rendezvous, my love, but you’re in Paradise, and I’ll burn in fiery pits forever. God, if you exist, I beg you, allow me to see her before you throw me in Hell. You’ve wrongfully taken her away from me, deal fairly and grant me just this one moment!

I feel no remorse. The only regret I feel is in not slaughtering that swine whilst he was cumming… I let him off too easy, far too easy considering what he’d done to my love. Publish this letter wherever you see fit, I care not. This is an account of what truly happened, far removed from what is said about me in your pathetic newspapers, but I care not.

I love you, Susanne. I hope you still love me the same.