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It was a sultry summer night, much like this... and I remember it well. I was but a child, a very small one at that, when Mother brought the weakling home. I was in my crib, not yet sure how to escape from its confines, and unable to yet formulate words. For all I was so young, the images of that moon-lit night remain vivid in my mind.



Mother was dressed in lace, black and thin. A low-cut, revealing slip that made her look dangerous. Her hair was done up simply, in pins and ribbons, and her heels clicked on the floor when she walked. The dim glow of the candles caught on her silver jewlery, causing it to glimmer like sunshine and I remember the smell of her perfume. It was intoxicating, almost lulling me to sleep. But sleep was not my intent, nor was it my destiny that night. Adrenaline and fear were in the air, mixing and mingling with the aroma of the room. It was this presence that kept her young child awake and intent on being restless.



The man sat in a chair, a bag over his head. His wrists were bound behind his back in a tight knot of black cord and he was nearly stripped bare. He woke with a start and struggled to breathe in the closed cloth sack. His ankles being tied to the chair legs left him unable to run, much less stand or move. Mother dropped a coin into a silver dish, and he started at the sound. "Who's there.. (there... there....)?" The sound echoed. "Hello..(lo..lo..)?" He asked.



"Hello, my sweet..." Mother crooned. Her voice was like Honey, coating the words. He fell silent, knowing that voice from somewhere... thinking... but Where? "I've been watching you...." Mother continued. She clicked across the floor, her movement causing the perfume to flow stronger in the room. Walking, clicking, around his chair, she reached out to scratch her long fingernails over his chest. The man's flesh retracted from her touch, like a poisonous snake was striking. Mother laughed, a sweet, low sound. Music to my young ears.



I loved when Mother laughed. It meant that she was happy, and that made me happy as well. But, something in Mother's laugh was different tonight. It made me feel powerful, and gave me the courage to lean just a little closer, over the edge of my crib. The fear in the room grew stronger, and I began to feed off of it. This feeling was new to me, and I didnt want it to end.



I will spare some of the details, as they are graphic to some, but Mother tormented this soul most of the night. Never once did he bleed, never once did the skin break. Like the poison that he thought she was made of, she worked slowly over time. Mother's torture was less of the physical kind. She invaded his mind, his very sanity was at stake. This creature had done Mother a great wrong, and was paying for it in spades.



She squelched the very light in his eyes with one flick of her wrist. Broke down his conscience with one nod of her head. She ripped and tore at his memories, taking the good and flooding his mind with the pain, agony, and disgrace of a thousand years. Her prey was weeping openly, crying out in horror and affliction. Mother did not stop. As I watched this man decay before my very eyes, I couldnt help but think back on my description of Mother. "...a low-cut, revealing slip that made her look dangerous..." Dangerous. That is exactly what Mother was.



The candles burned low and the horizon brimmed red. Daylight was coming, and Night was over. Mother clicked behind him and removed the bag. She bent low, breathing on the victim's neck. "Goodnight..." She hissed, as she bare her fangs and bit. Closing her jaw hard, she broke his skin and drank of him. The taste was short, as my delight rang out.



Mother smiled at me. She came to me, and lifted me from the wooden confine that was my crib, carrying me to the lamb. She held me close to the fresh, warm liquid and I happily took my taste, just as I had watched Mother do. I latched on with intent and drained this fool of the majority of his life.



When Mother pulled me off and returned me to my crib, I felt different, content. I watched her walk around him again, clicking her heels and tracing over his skin with her finger tips. This time, he was too weak to recoil. When she stood behind him, I saw him draw a breath. In one swift motion, she placed her hands on either side of his neck and *SNAP*. It was broken.



Now, I stood tall, dressed in black lace. In the same room, behind the same chair, in the same spot that Mother did, twenty years ago. A helpless young man was before me, and he too was tied. My own daughter, not a month older than what I was then, stood in her crib, watching. I looked into her eyes, I saw that same spark. She smiled up at me.... and I bit.

After the fantastic response I got out of my last entry in this manner, I have decided to write Part Two of my "Revenge Served Hot" Series.



You walk out of work, exhausted and ready for a shower and bed. I'm leaning casually against a car in the parking lot. You dont recognize it, but you instantly settle your eyes on me. How could you not, with what I am wearing? My sundress is light, low cut, and thin strapped. A white slip of a thing that shows off my legs, my perfect complection and my chest. Black stilletos complete the look. Like a model in a studio, the wind picks up just enough to allow my hair to float and the material to shift.



I am thinner than you remember, more toned than you remember. Yet, I look healthier and better than ever. No longer do my eyes hold dark circles, no longer do my lips looked unnaturally swelled. It is true, I havent been beaten since you left. And, I dont miss that. You approach me, sure I am there for you. But I am not. I am here for ME.



You look around, and the parking lot seems void of people, yet I am not alone. There is a lurker in the shadows, waiting and watching. You get closer, I stand straighter, smile wider. Revenge shouldnt look this good, or taste this sweet. You ask me how I've been, and I reply that I've never been better. But, what of you? How are you, my ex, my Darling? The compliment rolls from my lips in a sneer. You dont catch it. You've missed me, you say. You have seen better days. I smile. Care to go for a ride?



You agree and we get in my car. I maneuver slowly out of the parking lot. You dont even see the car that follows us out. You are too busy looking at me, and this dress. Small talk ensues for a while, but dies off about the time I pull the car into a deserted looking park. Less than a mile up the road, another car stops. We get out and I walk slowly to a swingset that has seen better days. I sit gingerly, and begin to kick my feet back. You stand there, shaking your head. You havent changed a bit, you tell me. Oh, but I have. I have.



I let you walk around me and give me a few pushes before you sit, with your back where I am facing. This couldnt be more perfect. There is a rock, about six inches from my shoe, and close enough for what I need. I watch the stranger exit the woods and walk across the parking lot, straight towards me. My smile widens, you think it is from the joy of your company. Oh, you fool. I have never enjoyed your company. I was a depressed little girl when last we met.



You continue to reminisce about the 'good times' that we never really had. It's funny how the years have distorted your memory, but not mine. Continuing on, until a tall shadow crosses your path. You turn your head, and seeing this Dark Angel, you stand, ready to run. They state their name, you guess their purpose. You run.



I lean down quickly, pick up the rock, and turn. I throw, hit, you land on the ground. I have aimed for your back. I want you conscious. I merely knocked the wind out of you. I walk carefully, my shoes are digging into the ground, and frankly were too expensive to just throw at the likes of you. My Shadow follows me, picking you up and carrying you through the woods to the second car. By the time you catch your breath, I have pulled up next to you and you watch as the trunk closes. So fast, so simple.



We drive. It seems like hours. We stop here, go in there. All the while, the air is getting denser, thicker, harder to breathe. You become chlaustrophobic, your chest tightens. I am shopping. With your wallet, no less. I picked it up after I hit you with the rock, and you didnt even realise it. Stupid Ass. You knew what I did as a teenager. After maxing out your credit cards and spending the little cash that you had, we cross the state line.



When we finally stop, you have pissed yourself. Not only from need of relief, but also from fear. How pathetic. I have changed, dressed like a boy now. I dont look nearly as appealing, but I am still too good for you. The Dark Angel yanks you out of the trunk by your shirt collar and throws you on the ground. I start to wrap duct tape around your wrists. Over and over again I unroll the tape. This is no "Amateur Hour", you wont be getting out of this anytime soon. You start crying, blubbering and begging for me to let you go. No Bitch, it's time to take your medicine.



I bring out a small bottle of dish soap and squeeze some onto a spoon, I grab your jaw. You try to hold your mouth shut and I nod at the Shadow. Suddenly, you are kicked in the face. Hard enough to bust a few teeth, but it could be worse. You open your mouth willingly after that. Swallow. That's right Bitch, swallow. I smile as you choke it down. Some water to wash that down, Darling? I sneer. I hold your mouth open, pouring a bottle of water in. You gag. You start to puke, and I quickly put the tape over your mouth. Puke now, Bitch. I laugh.



You think this is bad? Oh no, it is just the beginning. I have a LOT of plans for you, my sweet. We will be here a while. I haul you to your feet by your hair, still coughing and sputtering under the tape that covers your mouth. I pull out a gun, cool metal. I press the barrel to your cheek. Caress your face with it, letting the smoothness run over your skin. Feels nice, doesnt it? I ask you. Your eyes are wide, you dont know how to answer. I simply smile. Dance, I tell you, as I aim at your feet. You start to do a lop-sided jig. Faster, I say as I cock the hammer. You move faster, but not fast enough, I shoot. The first shot is your warning, it hits the ground, only inches from your boot. Faster! I demand. You move faster this time, and I aim again. Keep it up.



I watch you do this for several minutes, as the Shadow and I sit on the trunk and watch you. I hold the gun, cocked and aiming at your legs the whole time. You start to slow after a mere 10 minutes. Oh no, not yet. Dance, Bitch. You pick up the pace again, only running on adrenaline and fear now. I am calm, relaxed. I have an emotionless look, except for my eyes. You can see the joy brimming there. When you slow again, I pull the trigger, hitting your left foot. You drop to the ground in pain. I smile. The Dark Angel bandages your foot, stops the bleeding. Tears stream down your face.



As fun as that was, it is time to play another game. The waiting game. I wait, while you sit there, terrified. Unsure of what I will do next. I let you sit there, and after a few hours, you relax. I make some phone calls, eat a picnic lunch that I have brought, sharing it with the Angel. We whisper, in voices low, so you cant hear us. That worries you, and it should.



After packing the leftovers back up, I stand and approach you. By now, your stomach is gnawing. You are starving and the soap and water combination didnt help any. I rip the tape off, hard. Bits of you flesh stuck to it as I pour another bottle of water down your throat. By this time, you are so thirsty that you forget about the soap in the pit of your stomach. I pull a shaker of salt from my pocket, unscrewing the lid. It burns your shredded lips as I shove it in your mouth and put the tape back on.



I've decided that I am going to do every single thing that you have ever done to me right back. I want you to know the amount of pain that I went through. I pull a long iron bar out of the car as the Dark Angel drills holes in two nearby trees. The bar fits perfectly, simulating the bar that you broke with my back when you slammed me through our old bed.



I drag you to your feet and force you to walk to where the shadow is waiting. He has remained quiet since your abduction, saying nothing to you, and only speaking in whispers to me. I am the one that has been doing all of the talking. My Shadow picks you up, like a rag doll, you are almost weightless to him. He hurls you, back first at the bar. You hit and it bows a little as you land on the ground. I drag you back to your feet and you go for another ride. This process continues until, on the fifth throw, the bar snaps. You are sobbing now, under the tape.



I stand above you, seeming twice my heighth now. I smile down at you, laughing at your tears and your pain. I slide my foot under your chin and begin to apply pressure. Remember this, Darling? I sneer. You cant speak, you cant move. I continue to apply pressure until your eyes close. You have passed out, so I remove my foot and relax for a while, until you wake up. Whispering plans with the Shadow, so low we can barely hear ourselves.



When you awaken, you find that your boots and your socks have been cut off. I used surgical gloves too. I remember how disgusting your feet were. I prop you against a tree as I rip the tape off again, pouring more water down your throat. You are parched, mildly dehydrated, and hoarse. Good, that means you wont scream as loud. I cut the tape from your wrists and the Shadow holds you to the tree. I sit in between your legs and pull your foot into my lap, wearing my gloves of course. I grab your pinky toe and bend it, slowly. You feel the pain and I let go before I grab it and snap it. You try to scream, but nothing comes out. I continue my carnage, snapping bone after bone until they are all cracked. By the time I reached the last one, you didnt even flinch. Shock had set in and you felt next to nothing. Now you know what it felt like, when you did that to me.



Are we through? No, not even close. The hours wear on as I continue to torture you. Throwing you at the trees, simulating the walls that you put me through. Throwing you OVER the car, the flight of steps I went UP. Pounding your head against the ground, I remember the time I had stitches in my own head, and the times you bounced it off of the door, ripping my stitches. I slam your face into the windshield of the car, letting the little shards of glass cut your face, just like the window you put me through. I've beaten you, an eye for an eye. I win.



But now, now it is time for payback. I have dreamt of this so long, that I can hardly believe it is here. I pick up the iron bar and begin to swing it into your back, your stomach, your arms and legs. Wrecking you. I pin you to the ground, pulling my knife and carving letters across your forehead. R-A-P-I-S-T. A deserving title. I then use the knife to peel the skin from your fingers, jamming toothpicks under your nails as I play. I straddle your chest, straightening my back and smiling. I resume my torture by using your face as a punching bag. Tooth after tooth you are forced to spit on the ground. Blood spurts and spews from your mouth.



And when I am finished.... I leave you to my Dark Angel, my Shadow. You are at HIS mercy now.