Sweet Is Revenge

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Gulliver’s Travels, Autobiography By: Stanley Gulliver

Revenge,

I'll watch you bleed.

Revenge,

That's all I need.

Black Flag- Revenge lyrics

Decklin

Everyone else had forgotten for the most part. When they did remember it was with a laugh and a joke. Nobody cared that he had been killed. It was a
relief,
it was as if someone had squashed the pestering fly in the kitchen. He wasn't even a human being to them. They never cared. They should have slaughtered the bitch that had killed him. We are
family, that
is what family is supposed to do. If there is a traitor, get rid of them. That was protocol, but nobody followed it for that incident. Nobody was
effected
by it in any negative way, or so they thought.

If that was the truth, I wonder if anyone could explain to me why I watched my mother whither away to nothing as I grew into a man.
Can anyone tell me why, a beautiful young woman died, quite literally, of a broken heart?
They ripped not only my father's life away from him, but my mother's away from her as well. And in a sense, they had stripped me of my life too.

How do you explain to a
four year old
boy the evils of the world? How do you make him understand that there are bad people who kill without thinking twice? How do you tell him that one day, he would be one of those people? It is not a woman's job to do that. It's the job of the father, the male role in the family, to raise the son to be a warrior, fierce in battle, guarded in all situations, never trusting anybody but yourself. Instead I had my mother for that.

And she did a damn good job.

You would too, if you held so much bitterness in your heart. If you cried every single damn day for a man who would never be coming back. Sooner or later, that bitterness would creep up, and you would plan revenge too. That is exactly what my mother did. She formulated a plan, meant for me to follow through with. And I swore to her that I would.

Twenty years is a long time to wait. I had started searching for them when I turned twenty and was allowed access into files of our gang. I didn't have much luck. So I searched and hunted and came up
short handed
each and every time. I had to admit that Frances was good at his job. If there
was
anything that he didn't want anyone else to see, they wouldn't see it. But I refused to give up.

Finally, after searching every inch of the office, I came across a secret drawer in his desk, and there was the information I needed, among other things that I could use to my advantage to advance to the top when the time came. Nobody truly trusted
me,
because I was the spawn of the man who was possibly the worst leader ever known in the group. If he hadn't have gotten caught with his shady dealings, they would have thought he was the best. It's a shame how one slip up can change everything.

Four years of searching day and night, and finally I found her records. She really used the family to her advantage. They even paid for part of her fucking wedding to a man who was an enemy. What was so special about this woman that she could get everybody to bend over backwards for her? How could she get Frances, Donovan, and my father to break every rule we had for her? How could one person be so damn special? I was about to find out, before I killed her as mercilessly as she killed
 
him
.

I wasn't going to stop there though, that was the last step. No, I was going to kill her bastard of a husband, and her children before I killed her. She had a
daughter,
I could use that to my advantage. Make the daughter fall for me, get in good with the family, weasel my way into their lives and play the good guy. They would have no idea what hit them until it was too late. I smiled at the thought. Yes, the perfect plan.

Fortunately I had good looks on my side. I could make any woman fall for me, and I did. Granted, it was cruel of me because I was in no way looking for a serious relationship.
Just a good roll in the bed.
Women were no good for anything else. I also have a way with words. Empty promises are my specialty. Flattery, I've mastered it. Most guys would kill for talent like mine. Yes, their little girl would be completely corrupted before she died and the rest would follow.

The first thing I did when I found the information was to make copies so Frances didn't know I had been snooping again. I would not make the same mistakes as those before me and get caught. I wasn't that stupid. The second thing I did was
visit
my mother's grave and tell her all about it. I imagined she was looking down at me and smiling triumphantly. Finally someone was going to avenge her death and the death of her lover. There would be justice.

And then, wasting no time, I packed some clothes and other essentials and made my way to the family I'd been searching so long for. I blasted my music up, lit up a cigarette and smiled. They had no idea. I was brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.

It's a new day,

But it all feels old.

It's a good life,

That's what I'm told.

But everyday it all just feels the same.

Good Charlotte- The Anthem

Lillian

I woke up to my alarm, at seven am as always. I hit the snooze button for another fifteen minutes of sleep, as always. I swore up a storm when the alarm went off a second time, as always. I drug myself out of bed and into my bathroom, took a shower, dried my hair, put on my make up and got dressed…
As always.
Life is so
 
mundane.
 
Wake up, get ready,
go
to school, go home, sleep, repeat. Welcome to my life.

Weekends, those are the only things that change. Weekends make up my life. But partying gets so old, so fast. Same people, same guys who try to get in my pants, same drinks, same hang over, same music, same everything. It's all so redundant. Is there more to life than this? Please, tell me that there is.

Besides being bored out of my mind fourteen out of twenty-four hours of the day, I'm pretty happy with life. I have a good family, young parents who are still madly in love, a twin brother who is a pain in my ass with his over-protectiveness, but still decent, and a goldfish named Blue the Seventh, I can't keep anything else alive.
One big happy family.
I have nice clothes and a hot car, live in a big house and don't have to pay rent. I never will have to have a job, my dad's job, whatever it is, pays him well and he insists on providing for me. He doesn't like me going out more than I have to be, he says it's 'dangerous.' He would probably flip a lid if he knew I was going out and partying on the weekends, rather than staying the night at my friend Beth's house.

But I can't get over the feeling that something big is going to happen in my life, and by sitting around doing nothing, I'm missing out on a grand adventure. I want action and fun. I want my adrenalin pumping like it does when I'm at the shooting range. I want
 
more
. Is that so much to ask?

I had never been
more happy
to wake up on a Friday. Sure, I have college, but it's nothing too hard. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, so I'm just taking the general classes at our local college. I was just ready to party. Maybe that would cure some of my restlessness. So I packed my over night bag and trudged down stairs. No matter how excited I was, it was still morning and I was not moving fast.

"Morning, beauty," came my mother's voice from the kitchen. I followed it and saw her sitting on the counter drinking some orange juice. She smiled at me. "One of these days you're going to wake up and find that you really are a morning person," she said. I rolled my eyes.

"How many years have you been saying that mom? And it still hasn't happened," I hopped up on the counter next to her, drinking the orange juice straight from the carton. She scowled at me.

"Don't be a heathen, get a glass," it's kind of humorous, in a way, talking to my mom.
It sort of feels like talking to my reflection.
Of course, she has almost two decades on me, but she has aged well. We look exactly the same, except for our skin tones. I inherited my dark skin from my dad. But everything else, my dark, wavy hair, teal eyes, to the bone structure and all around shape of my body is a clone of my mom's. I'm not complaining because she's gorgeous, I'm just saying it's weird.

"I don't back wash, if that's what you're worried about," I said, taking another gulp to annoy her.

"I'm not worried about that. I'm just thinking that deep down, I know you have some manners somewhere. You can start showing them by using a glass," she huffed. I smiled at her, taking another deliberate swig of the juice and wiping my mouth on my sleeve with a big "ah," afterwards. She sighed. "Are you twenty or twelve?" She asked. I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Have a good weekend mom, I'll be home Sunday," I said, ignoring her last remark.

"Stay out of trouble, I love you," she called as I walked out of the kitchen, making my way to my parent's room.

"Love you too, mom," I reached my dad's door and knocked.
It's a rule in this house
,
 
always
 
knock
. You might not want to see what's beyond the door. I got no answer as was usual for the morning. Where my mom is a morning person, dad definitely isn't. I opened the door, setting my bag by it and running for the bed. I landed and bounced, making dad groan.

"You're lucky I love you, or I would shoot you," he groaned from underneath his arms. I laughed.

"You need a new line pops, you say that every morning," I leaned over and hugged his back, laying my head on his shoulder. He used one of his hands to try and pat my head, but couldn't reach.

"You going out again this weekend?" He asked, turning to
lay
on his side so he could give me a real hug.

"Uh huh, honestly, that's a stupid question."

"Well, maybe your old man's hoping that one day you'll decide you want to spend the weekend with him, we haven't gone to the shooting range in months," he yawned as he spoke.

"One, you're thirty-eight, hardly an old man. Two, we'll go. We can go on Sunday if you don't get one of those stupid mysterious phone calls," I hated his phone calls. I hated them to an extreme. No matter what he was doing, he'd have to drop it and go. I always wondered who called him and what he had to go do, but I didn't bother asking after I turned fifteen, I got the same answer every time. 'It doesn't matter.' It gets tiring after awhile.

"Alright, but I'm holding you to it. Maybe I'll even turn off my phone," he said. I raised my eyebrow at
him,
we both knew that wasn't true.

"Okay Dad, whatever. I love you," I kissed his cheek.

"Love you too babe. Do me a favor, tell my woman to make me some coffee," he said with a glint in his eye.

"Oh no, I've dealt with mom already this morning. I'm not going back. You make your own coffee, you know that's what she'll say anyway," I hopped off the bed as I heard him groan. I shut the door behind me.