It was a pleasure, sitting there, something unplaneed going so well. My innards smiled and giggled at the thought of the damage that I was causing him. Wretched plans of future evil were racing through my head; revenge truly was sweet. And best served cold. Machiavelli would have been proud of yours truly, sitting here upon this couch. An empty screen stood in the vicinity; it didn't matter, as ravaged images of sugary pain flitted across my vision. Calmly I welcomed this monster into my life. Possibilities paraded sweetly on my lips, forming words of hate both silently and on the amplified speakers of those violent, invading thoughts. It was getting hard to breath; it was getting really loud. The door was open, escape being possible. Yet I sat there, letting myself be overcome by darkness. Revenge was something I promised to keep away, but... I have a sweet tooth. I shall watch him fall.
The phone rang. An empty living room surrounded me, the only sound being the wretched phone. I knew he would come crawling back. A bit of compassion and an Oscar winning rendition that night in bed had ensured that. I could almost hear his self-pity clawing at my feet. Fingers played along the reciever, extending his desperate wait at the other end of the line. Thirst parched my lips; blood and adrenaline pumping at the thought of the next move. The power that words had, that was truly amazing. Power that lingered in my thoughts; the power to push him to the edge and beyond. The thought of his fatal demise tantalized me, yet maybe death would be too good for such a person. The punishment should fit the crime. I shall make him beg, suffer, wish he had never laid eyes on me. Or anything else for that matter. A smile pushed at the corner of my mouth. Time for torture. I shall watch him fall.
"Hello?"
The phone rang. An empty living room surrounded me, the only sound being the wretched phone. I knew he would come crawling back. A bit of compassion and an Oscar winning rendition that night in bed had ensured that. I could almost hear his self-pity clawing at my feet. Fingers played along the reciever, extending his desperate wait at the other end of the line. Thirst parched my lips; blood and adrenaline pumping at the thought of the next move. The power that words had, that was truly amazing. Power that lingered in my thoughts; the power to push him to the edge and beyond. The thought of his fatal demise tantalized me, yet maybe death would be too good for such a person. The punishment should fit the crime. I shall make him beg, suffer, wish he had never laid eyes on me. Or anything else for that matter. A smile pushed at the corner of my mouth. Time for torture. I shall watch him fall.
"Hello?"
