The Art of Revenge is not in the act of revenge. The art of revenge is in the time and patience it takes to get revenge. For me I waited almost 10 years, 10 long and painful years. I waited until I had all the resources I needed, and I waited until I knew those girls reached a point in their lives where it was all forgotten and they were now proper women of status.
I had grown through the years. I was now standing at 6'3 and weighed over 350 pounds. Though I was large in my body size, I was in charge of my lifestyle and while I worked my days in my office job, I spent my nights keeping an eye on my old friends.
For this revenge, I took no order, only that I was going to save the best for last. The first target of my revenge was Abby. The pretty 25-year-old had always been a fan of the band, "Teardown", and luckily for the both of us they were in town that night. I went down to the bar that was hosting the show and sat down at the bar side with a beer in my hand and my eyes on Abby as she walked in wearing one of her black band shirts and wearing short jean shorts.
The show itself was a snoozer, not my sort of band, but this was my brand of fun, so the ends justified the means. As Abby rocked up and down the dance floor she came over to the bar and conveniently sat next to me where the bartender stood.
"Abby?" I asked.
She turned and looked at me, "Hey! Long time no see! How have you been?".
"Great. How about you?" I replied.
"Oh dude, you don't even want to know." she laughed.
"Oh, I can only imagine." I responded.
She sat down and had her drink sitting next to me. We exchanged more dialogue, but I won't bore you with the details. After a while she got up to use the restroom and when she did, I ordered her another drink, this time with only my little mix to it.
When she came back there were only a few more swallows before she suddenly passed out. Being the gentleman that I am, I helped carry her out of the bar and to my car.
Several hours later she awakened in a pitch-black room, part of a rundown roadside motel in on the outskirts of town.
"Hello? Where am I?" Abby asked.
She tried moving but it was no use, her hands were cuffed together, and rope had her tied to the bed.
"You always loved the dark so much Abigail." I said.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked.
"Returning the favor." I replied.
As dark as it was, I could see the look of fear on the face of the gothic girl.
