Club Fucked Up

Revenge Best Served Cold

October 3,1989
(JD's perspective)
2:29 a.m.
Oh she looks so perfect when she's sleeping, I've always thought that. And I know that if she ever figures out what I'm about to do she'll fucking hate me. Although what happened yesterday is not something I'm going to allow, all bastards in this world that hurt her deserve to die! After staring into darkness regretting what I'm about to do I finally decide to untangle myself from Veronica and the sheets.
After scrambling to put on my trenchcoat I place a light kiss on Veronica's forehead, careful not to wake her. Before I slip out of the room Slushie let's out a few squeaks as if trying to hold me back from what I'm about to do. Once I've escaped the deadly silent room I sink to the floor with my back pressed to the closed door, my legs clinging close to my chest as I try to regain my breath.
If I can just do this she'll never know, anyways the only reason why she ever entered that fucking hell was because my dumb ass took her there. God damnit! This is all my fault! Her life is a living hell and it's all my fault. If I had never come into her life none of this would be happening. Damn it damn it damn it! I'm such a mistake, all I ever do is mess things up! This is all my fault!
"No no no no no no! Fuck!!!" I scream in a wave of depression, ripping at my hair in anger. I stepped out of the calming darkness of Veronica's room into this black hole of self hatred.
Feeling a sudden urge of motivation powered by flames of anger I push myself up off of the ground with a little too much force as I almost lose my balance when I stand up. All I fucking have to do is go back to that Goddamn house and knock the shit out of that asshole.
Once I mount my motorcycle I speed away from Veronica's house. In only a matter of seconds I arrived at my father's house, I hadn't realized I was going that fast but I guess when fueled by anger your speed becomes irrelevant. When I barge into the house my father is passed out on the couch like a fucking pig with crushed beer cans surrounding his limp fame.
My plan was to only shoot him with my gun, one shot and done, but as I stare at him I pick up one of crushed beer cans and start driving it into his skull. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...with every hit more blood splatters onto my trenchcoat. The sick bastard hasn't even opened his eyes this whole time. I can only imagine the delight I would have felt if I could have watched him suffer. Like payback for all the times that he neglected or beat me. After only about 30 blows to his head I decide to check his pulse and nothing is there. Once the deed is done all I can do is stare at his mauled face dripping with blood. Before I head back to Ronnie's house I head outside and stripfrom my clothes to place them into the washing machine to get all of the blood out. Never in the few months had I minded that our laundry room was connected to the house, it was how things always were in the houses that my dad bought but in a time like this it would have been kind of nice.
After waiting for about two hours for my clothes to finish I redress and get back on my bike and head home to Ronnie. All I want right now is to curl up with her and forget that this ever happened, but at least there is one less asshole roaming the world right?
Arriving at Veronica's house I feel a sense of real security that I've only ever felt when I'm here. Slipping back into her room I gently lift the sheets to slide back into bed with her and once I do so she takes me into a loving embrace with her head nuzzled into my neck and all of the events of the last few hours are instantly erased from my mind.