Everyone is dead.
Blood pool, knives, swords, bullets, machine guns all over my hollowed and haunted world.
Moans and howls in pain, sorrow, devastation, and melancholy, all disappeared in the immense engulfment of forlorn. Then there came numbness, which was the end of it all.
Few years ago, I was a stupid sitting duck, vulnerable and maybe innocent in one way or another. Being deceived by my ex-girlfriend, who had got a million guys dying get in her guts, I told her all the secrets of mine, from how my childhood was like to how my father was beaten up by my mother.
And she turned her back on me.
“Hass who? You mean that whoreson who sucks at everything? Hah!” I overheard her.
A few days later she started that bullying and humiliation. Gossips spread. Everyone knew all those stories about my so-called family and distanced him/herself away from me instantly, saying that I was a beast that would literally bite one’s head off.
I got punched, stretched, and kicked as though I was a wrecking ball. But I was too timid that I keep myself silent about this whole situation.
“Ouch!” I remember wincing and crying out when I got my face slapped hard and I couldn’t bear that pain. Tears streamed down and it was literally rubbing salt into the wound across my bruised face.
“Shut up, whoever yells at pain is a coward!” Jake shouted at me, the others teased. I looked up for some help, trying to get my butt off the ground, yet what I saw were some cruelly happy faces, laughing and pointing at my distorted face.
Nobody ever sympathized me. Nobody has barely tried to give me a hand. Nobody. I was completely abandoned by the human kind.
Suddenly a flood of anger ascended to my chest and made me suffocate, I couldn’t breathe and I just wanted to fight back.
Get up and show them what you’ve got, stand up and defend or you’re going to be called a milksop for the rest of your life. You know the way, Mr. Top-five Boxer.
And so I clenched my fist and took a swing at his abdominal. He reached out to grab my wrist but I twisted his before he could touch mine. He screamed to the earth in pain.
“Now you are the coward.”
At that moment I felt that satisfaction. I felt that sweetness of a revenge. I was, am, the victor.
I started my journey of avenging. For those who badmouthed and offended me, I thwacked their faces because those disgustingly contorted faces out of fears compelled me. The heavy cold stone on my chest was lifted by then. For those who physically harmed me before, I smashed their skeletons into smithereens as they struggled disobediently on the brink of panic when I sent them to heaven, or maybe hell, pleasantly.
Soon I became the king of the world. Not the queen, but the KING. I am the one who ruled.
The next stop of my journey is my house.
Whoever’s hurt my beloved ones will be shown no mercy. Including my mother.
I opened the door, and found my mother crying, sitting on the coach. But tears were just a symbol of weakness and feebleness. I dashed into the kitchen in a lightning speed and grabbed a razor-sharp, glossy knife.
I hid it behind my back and went to the dining room.
“Son? Son, com’ere’, mom needs you there.” Her voice was soft, desperation on her face.
I smiled and hurried over. No sooner did she realize I got a knife in my hand than I thrusted it through her beating heart.
“Son…!” Her eyes widened out of astonishment, her hands trembled as she tried to raise them. And then there was that expression in her eyes, I wasn’t sure what kind of emotion it was defined as. Sorrowful? Fearful? Crestfallen? Or was it heart-broken? Well, it was literally broken just now anyway.
“Here’s the revenge for my father.” I stared at her, grinning as a celebration of my success, feeling every bit of exhilaration while watching her blood splashing out.
“No…I…love—y-o-oo-o-u---both...” I ran up and squeezed her neck before she could finish whatever she wanted to say. Because losers have no says, and I am the winner of this revenge, as usual.
Her face turned white as sheets and her lips sickly purple. She tried to inhale yet she knew the truth was that she’s going to die in a minute. She put her cold-as-ice hand on my forearm. I wasn’t sure what that meant though.
“I’m…sorry.” Tears dropped on my forearm, as she closed her eyes.
Another one. Another stupid loser defeated by me. Such good news.
I grinned from ear to ear, I murdered my worst enemy and avenged for my father. I was a hero. I sit beside the dead body. Pleased with my heroic action, I even giggled.
“Christine!” My father entered suddenly, and bent his knees in front of the woman. He rubbed her face gently and slowly, in an extremely careful manner as though her face would be easily broken like a piece of glass. He held her right hand, put it on to his chest, and bowed his head. I could hear him sobbing, he was mourning for her death.
“Father, I have killed her for you.” I revealed the truth.
My father looked up, an incomprehensible expression on his face, “You what?” He gulped and was panting then, as if there was something in the middle of his larynx.
“I killed her. That’s it.”
“Why?!” He started to wail, in a way he has never done before.
“She beat you up. I did it as a revenge for you.”
“A revenge?! You call this a revenge?! Do you know what you’ve done is much more than a revenge?! You took your mother’s life! What have I given born to?! A monster or a beast?! Who are you?! You are not Hass! You are not a human! You are a beast, a beast! YOU ARE A BEAST!!! GET OUT! YOU’LL NEVER RETURN! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!”
A beast. This reminded me of those ugly bullies at my school.
“Father?” I tried to suppress myself. No one shall ever call me a beast.
“I ain’t your father! Don’t you call me your father!”
For a second I felt something so unfamiliar, there was heartache and my nose became red. I felt that soreness in my throat and some liquid trying to escape from the corner of my eyes. But I couldn’t bring myself to process that emotion.
Suddenly I felt my swollen face bleeding.
I glared at my father, warning him not to mess with me again.
His fist was hard as rock, I felt my abdominal dilacerated.
It hurt again.
I ran into my room and geared myself up.
I pointed my machine gun to him and my hands were trembling, for the first time.
“Shoot me in the head. I don’t want to live this way anyway. My gorgeous wife passed away and my son turned into some brutal beast--” His voice was husky and wretched before he got shoot.
NO ONE SHALL EVER CALL ME A BEAST.
I witnessed the collapse of my most beloved man. He fell down on to the floor, crawling in pain and moving himself forward with his hands, making his every effort to reach his wife. Blood was pumped out, but seemingly, he didn’t even notice it. All he could see was his wife. Finally, his fingernails reached the toes of his wife, and he breathed his last breath.
I turned away and studied the living room. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of those many pictures taken during my childhood. My mother was holding me in her arms and kissing me on the forehead when I was barely 9 months old. My father was feeding me ice cream when I was three years old, and I looked blissful in that photograph. We three were riding the roller coaster in Ocean Park during the first summer holiday of mine. Excitement, joy spread and mine all over our faces.
Then there was that ache in my heart and my squinting nose again. Colorless, salty liquid streamed down my bruised face. It was that painful feeling same with Jake’s slapping on my face, despite that there was something else.
Something so powerful and heavy, hanging all over me and made me slump. I fell on to the warm bodies. All in one second the world caved in and all those childhood memories ambushed me, leaving me no room for defense at all.
Those hugs, cuddling, kisses from my parents were haunting me.
It’s love. It is love.
I jiggled to the mirror and looked at the most familiar stranger into the eyes.
“No, I love you both…”
You killed my mom.
You have terminated my beloved ones permanently.
“You are a beast, a beast!”
A beast like you shall never exist no more.
“I ain’t your father! Don’t you call me your father!”
You have lost everything.
“GET OUT! YOU’LL NEVER RETURN! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!”
A bullet passed through the brain of the beast and a knife through its heart. I made the sweetest revenge against my ultimate enemy.
Suddenly it was all dark…
I knew it was a successful revenge.
I could feel that warming heat on the side of my head. Relieved in pain, I felt the peace under the sweetness of satisfaction.
My heavy superior eyelid met the inferior one; my breath calm and steady; my body relaxed and supported by gravity.
Everyone is dead.
Blood pool, knives, swords, bullets, machine guns all over my tranquil and soothing world.
Moans and howls in pain, sorrow, devastation, and melancholy, all disappeared in the impressive termination by revenges. Then there came sweetness, which was the end of it all.
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