Me or a Monster Named Revenge

July 4, 2012
By Sammy Tbeile BRONZE, Brooklyn, New York
Sammy Tbeile BRONZE, Brooklyn, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I opened the hollow oak door and I was instantaneously assaulted by the unmistakable stench of blood. Needless to say I was a bit surprised to smell blood in my own home. I didn’t know what to expect and my ear clouded my senses. Instead of calling 911 I grabbed a knife from my kitchen and followed my nose. The second thing I noticed was the apparent disarray of everything. Couches had their stuffing ripped from their silk encasing and strewn across the floors. Painting and pictures slashed and maimed someone was clearly trying to make a point. However, I couldn’t spend time observing these injuries because of the ever present reek of blood, the smell of a soul ripped from a body all too soon. Aside from the vandalized property the first floor was completely clear. Dead silence and the reek of blood. As I walked up to the second floor questions started to pop into my head. Why was it so quiet? If someone had died, then why did the blood smell so fresh? The most probable answer popped into my head and I tightened the grip on my knife until my knuckles went white. As I reached the top floor I saw a scene that will forever be engraved in my mind. My one connection in this world, everything I care about mauled and maimed like a sick, sadistic child’s puzzle. There lay the source of the stench, their lay the disembodied, bloodied remains of my family. Each part so strongly engraved in my mind, forming words. A message. “This is your only warning, you belong to us.” The words formed of their limbs, disembodied and disfigured. The lines made of my family’s arms and legs. The curves of their innards. Each “i” was topped with a head, my sister’s, my mother’s, and my father’s. I sunk to the floor immediately. On my knees I let our screams and sobs first inaudible but gaining in volume. “It has to be a dream, a nightmare,” I told myself over and over again but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. I swore they would be avenged, no matter the cost.
I should have seen this coming I was too d*mn stupid. I’m the leader of an underground group of assassins and I knew my identity was starting to be discovered. This was my fault. I caused the brutal slaughter of my family. I was the one who signed their death warrant. I will however, also be the one to avenge their blood. They say “blood will have blood,” then so be it. On my blood and the defiled corpses of my family I swear that I will not stop until every drop of blood leaves the cold bodies of those who did this to them. Let the souls of my family who still linger be my witnesses and my binding, this will be fulfilled. On that I let out a beastlike cry of rage and sorrow as the last tears that will ever leave my eyes were shed.
My cry was cut off though as my trained ears caught the slightest tap of a foot. The perpetrator, the murderer, the devil come to laugh at his deed. I immediately raced to the noise and saw a man not older than 25 in a dark black trench coat, with red stains. I reacted instantaneously and threw my knife right at his leg. Death would be to light a punishment for this one. He would give me the information I desired and then suffer a death worse than any torture h*ll could muster. I walked over to him and pulled my knife out of his leg, the wound that tripped him, and the wound that would cause his death. I pulled him up by his long jet black hair and slammed him into a wall, knife at his throat.
“Who hired you?” I screamed
“Kill me; I won’t give you any information.” Typical answer.
“This isn’t a discussion topic; you will give me my information and then die.” I slashed his wrist to get my point across.
“And what would compel me to agree to this?” Perfect and a negotiating one.
“I have my methods of obtaining information, whether you choose to or not.” A long cut this time from eyebrow to chin
30 minutes of torture later I had my list of the ten people involved in the murder and planning of my family’s massacre all that was left was to finish the deed.
Part 2:
15 years later I have eliminated 9 out of ten targets. I killed thousands to get their locations and erase my trail now after so many long years I raced to kill the last one. I left the assassins group after they refused to aid me in my revenge saying that in turned me into a monster. Maybe they were right, I don’t care. All that matters is that my family’s souls are finally put to rest and their blood is avenged. I have abandoned my morals; I killed to for my personal desires. I tortured and mutilated thousands for information. Maybe this revenge has corrupted me and made me a monster. I walk this world alone though, my only companion is my revenge. I have nothing left and nothing is more dangerous than someone with nothing. I walked up the marble steps stained scarlet from the guards I had already killed. This would be the final confrontation, this would satiate my revenge. Now is the time, no mercy, no emotions, and no weakness. Only blood. I opened the door and surprisingly my target was sitting at his desk calmly.
“Come sit down, let’s have a chat.” He motioned to a chair across from his desk.
“I’ve waited 15 years; a few minutes to fulfill a dead man’s wish couldn’t hurt.” Bad move.
“I have a proposal for you. You have a brother-“
“Had a brother before you killed him.” I corrected him.
“No you clearly didn’t check the bodies; your brother is still very alive. I had my men kidnap him earlier and effectively save his life.” He said amused
“Why should I believe you?”
“Take a look,” and there it was a monitor with a live video of him, my brother. A live connection maybe all is not lost.
“Why?” It made no sense.
“I have a sick sense of enjoyment, and I needed assurance that I had a bargaining token with you.” Okay now it does.
“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m still going to kill you but I’ll save him too.”
“Nope, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. 15 years ago I injected your brother with a special type of bomb. The trigger is inside my body. If my heart stops beating your brother dies too.” You’re kidding me. “You have a choice. Your brother, or me. Which life is more important?”
I had it in my palm my revenge, but on the other hand I had everything I desired a living family member. Did I really want that though? I spent the last 15 years looking for revenge not a family. I wanted revenge for my family though I couldn’t possibly miss this opportunity. On the other hand, I couldn’t let him get away with massacring my family. Could I kill the last living member of my family for that though? I had two choices: pick up my knife and thrust it through his heart, blowing up my brother and finally fulfilling my revenge; or pick up my knife and leave to save my brother, giving up my revenge.
This really wasn’t a choice. There was only one real option and it was a simple one.

The author's comments:
A bit darker than what I usually write but why not?

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