Vengeance Alyssa Griesman
As I made my way down the steps, I started to feel the warm, lively air from upstairs intermixing with a cold, dead air currently residing downstairs, causing goosebumps to trickle down my limbs and a spiraling chill to sliver down my spine. When I reached the first floor, I stood frozen in my tracks: my body, mind, and soul immobilizing with each passing second. Immediate shock and utter disbelief rippled through me, tearing me apart bit by bit. I tried to obscure the scene before me, but it was pointless. Red overtook my vision, blurring every other shade in sight. It was everywhere—splattered on the walls, engrossed in the carpet, soaked in the furniture. It was all I could see. Maybe I’m just seeing things, I pleaded, in a desperate attempt to remove myself from this dreadful reality. But no matter how hard I tried, reality began to sink deeper, my heart following its dwindling descent. As I was pulled further into the darkness, my body and mind and soul became one with the red color. It encapsulated me. It erased all ties to my previous life and forced a single pur- pose upon me: vengeance. Old sensations of fear pivoted into a roaring rage that wrapped itself around my neck like a tight noose. It latched onto my skin and lit me on fire, burning me to nothing but a mere crisp. A fierce, dire hunger for answers swallowed me up whole, sending my mind into a crazed spiral. What I need, what I want, and what I crave is revenge. I will get my vengeance.
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