Growing up, my mother told me that women were only made to serve men and do our best to make them comfortable; in return, they would ensure our safety and well-being. Even at a tender age, those words never sat well with me, because the men I knew were animals and did nothing to deserve reverence. The women I was surrounded by, except for my mother, worked hard and showed me more affection than my family had ever shown. The maids and nannies struggled and went above and beyond, some risking their livelihood to try and make life easier for me. I knew it was a pity, but beggars could not be choosers; meeting Claire solidified that thought.
When I was first introduced to religion, I knew for sure God had to be a man, for only men would let others suffer in the name of seeing the bigger picture. Only men could stand by and watch their creation burn and do nothing but add fuel to the fire just to see the outcome. My father thought himself a god and encouraged my brother to do the same, which was why Brian never saw me as nothing more than a plaything.
When I was sixteen and he was twenty, he dragged me out, saying he was treating me for my birthday. That night, as three strangers tore into my body while choking my life away, I tried fighting back but was easily subdued; there was no way I could have won. So I lay there, each plunge breaking into my heart until there was nothing but numbness, and I slipped into the abyss. When I came to, I was in the hospital, my brother towering over me, his presence an obvious threat not to rat him out, but his worry was misplaced. Any resistance I had had been whipped out of me long ago. After he left, I lay there, not moving, not crying for three days. No one came to see me until finally, on the third day, Claire walked through the door timid and alert as if she was afraid shadows would jump and hurt her. As soon as I saw her, my entire being broke down, and for the next few hours until the sun fell, I cried pitifully in her arms, mourning for my lost innocence.
When I was finally discharged a week later without any of my parents ever coming to see me, she dragged me to a gym owned by her father. In the following years, my evenings were spent at that gym strengthening my body. Claire was the only person I told about what happened to me, but my parents never asked, accepting whatever excuse my brother had given. My father never whipped me again, probably satisfied that my spirit had been broken. My mother avoided me since then, I wondered if it was pity or guilt that drove her away from me. I was grateful nonetheless. Claire asked me why I never reported it to the police, no one would believe me, and my father would rather have me killed than sully his name. This was my burden to bear, a scar I would always carry. Although my days had been filled, my nights were open and filled with screams of terror. I screamed for that girl who lay unmoving as she was brutally defiled, the girl who did everything but could not save herself.
As soon as I was eighteen, I asked for permission to stay on my own, and my parents readily complied. They must have grown tired of my screaming and wanted their disappointment out of their sight. A furnished apartment was provided to me close to my university campus, and the very next day, I moved Claire in. Money was deposited into my account for fees and upkeep, their help purely to keep up appearances. I was grateful either way, I got my dues without having to deal with my familial monsters. I swore never to return to their home, but standing there that chilly Saturday evening, I couldn't help but laugh at my childhood fears.
To kill the beast, you had to enter its lair, now fully grown; this house that held nothing but bad memories seemed smaller in comparison to the version that haunted my dreams. They had had peace for long enough, it was time for them to face my fury. A hand slipped into my mine, startling me. Sunshine squeezed the hand she was holding, offering me a comforting smile. I still managed to get surprised every time she cleaned up. Her amber eyes were sharply winged with black eyeliner that greatly enhanced their appearance along with the disappearance of her scar. She had gone for an amber wig that framed her face, painting an illusion of youthful beauty. Even her lips shone with a pinkish hue that softened her features and complemented the pink, flowery, knee-high, tea dress she had on.
I had selected a black jumpsuit, with intricate gold details, that enhanced my figure. I had picked a long blonde wig, which oddly complemented my dark skin. I had taken extra time making my face, perfecting a flawless and ravishing mask that had already turned plenty of heads. 'They had done nothing to me that I could not overcome, ' was the message I wanted to send across. My brother was hosting a party at my parents' house celebrating his promotion, and I could not think of a better time to make an appearance. I would have the pleasure of toying with their little prince before moving on to them.
To commemorate leaving this pristine and luxurious hellhole, I had bought a bottle of whiskey, and Claire and I drank the night away. The memory was hazy, most of it filled with huge blanks, but I could not forget the feeling that had infused that night, making it special for us. It was the first time Claire said she loved me, I told her she was my only friend in this world, and I would rightfully die for her. I had sensed her disappointment with my answer, but the blinding smile that followed soon after had me dismissing the flash of strange emotion. Now I knew she had meant those words in a non-platonic sense, which added to my guilt at her demise. With every step I took up the marbled stairs leading to the house, a bucket of anger was poured into me. So much so that when the door finally opened to reveal the immaculate foyer, there was nothing anyone could say or do that would cause me to falter; revenge would be mine.
Guests were milling all around, but Sunshine and I still managed to stand out like sore thumbs given the all-white theme that all the guests had faithfully complied with. We barely took two steps forward before my arm was rudely yanked back, bringing me face to face with my brother. The asshole looked as well as expected, maturity suited him well. He had an immaculate white suit with golden patterns that had to have been tailor-made. Seeing him flourishing pleased me; he had to be high enough for his downfall to be all the more apparent. He painfully dug his fingers into my arms, looking to intimidate me, but my brother had always been weak, and as painful as his fingers were, it was tolerable.
Ever since my sixteenth birthday, I had gone out of my way to avoid him, even refusing to take part in family meals whenever he was around. He was mainly at his place near his campus, so thankfully avoiding him had been easy, and when I left for university, we had no reason to see each other. It had therefore been eleven years since we had properly looked each other in the face. I had grown taller and stronger during those years. Standing next to him, there wasn't much of a difference in height between the two of us. I glared at his hand, but he refused to let go. It was then that I noticed the pathetic man's insecurities.
"If you would be so kind as to let my arm go, I would appreciate it." I smiled sweetly at him, and he quickly dropped my hand, stepping back as if he had been struck.
"What the fuck are you doing here Melissa no one wants you here," he whisper-yelled at me to which I responded with a bigger smile.
He took a step towards me, anger quickly morphing his facial features, but not faster than Sunshine, who quickly stepped between us. Sunshine had a couple of inches on me, so I couldn't see my brother's reaction to her intervention, but I was positive the coward halted his advance.
"Who the fuck is this. Did you get another girlfriend? What would your dead one say?"
I stepped out from behind Sunshine in time to catch my dear brother smirking. I gave him my biggest smile and took two steps forward, which brought me right to his face. His mask slipped, showing fear, but mine remained intact.
"Now! Now, dear brother, don't be so nasty in that white attire, it might turn black just like your heart, and then what would the guest say? Don't worry your pretty head, you will know what I am doing here before the night ends. It will be better for you to restrain yourself. I don't think these good people know the real you. You don't want them to learn about it today, do you? At your promotion party no less."
I did not wait for an answer before turning on my heels, Sunshine in tow. Marcus would be the finale. I had little bunnies to hunt down first. Even if I wanted to forget them, the memory of his sweating and groaning friends was deeply and painfully engraved in my mind. Getting sexually assaulted damaged you in a way that physical assault could not compare. Being rendered helpless while you were violently invaded broke your mind and drowned your spirit. Even after eleven years, my heart picked up at the thought of confronting them, but my anger dulled any other emotion and blinded any thought of consequence.
Another hand rudely yanked me back, and I did not have to look back to know it was my mother; her custom-designer perfume and her signature talons were telling enough. She had aged during the last seven years, which was the last time I saw her. As a child, I genuinely believed she was a witch who never seemed to age. I resented her for pretending I never existed, hated her for never standing up for me. I had often theorized that she had adopted a girl to simply take the wrath of my father away from her, but the resemblance between us was undeniable. However, the tables had ironically turned, leaving her a withered, faded version of me. Her eyes shook with what I decided was envy because that emotion suited her personality better.
"What are you doing here?" She parroted her son, which I found comical.
"I missed you, Mother! Aren't you happy to see me? Look at us! You're old, me flourishing this is nice, no?"
She clenched and unclenched her jaw, mouth flailing like a fish out of water, lost for words. I did not give her enough time to collect her thoughts, choosing instead to peel her claws and walk away. Today was not her day. When I got to her, she would have plenty of time to share her thoughts. I finally spotted the three musketeers that I was looking for bundled together, probably sharing their singular brain cell. I motioned for Sunshine to remain behind before walking up to them, picking up a glass of champagne on my way.
The way their faces fell in synchrony fueled my anger, they had been so sure of their security, so deeply unencumbered by what they did, that it never occurred to them that they would see me again. The rage that I thought had drowned all my feelings doubled and spilled over until it felt as if the very air around me was vibrating with unleashed fury. Stab an eye out, carve into one's heart with a butter knife, and drown another in the toilet. Violent imagery toppled one another, each one more gruesome than the next. I had never in my life wanted to murder as I did in that moment. Sunshine appeared out of nowhere and took my hand. I looked into her eyes, desperate to see anything other than death. There was only madness reflected in her eyes, a deep chasm filled to the brim with the need to harm, that deep-seated insanity that she let me see calmed me down instantly.
There was no reason to back down or stifle my feelings; this deeply etched hatred in my heart towards the three fools who stood before me with gaping mouths was warranted. I would have my vengeance consequences be damned. Today was the day I rolled out the carpet for the first three on my list; no matter how I felt about them, it was nothing compared to what I felt about the rest of my targets. Just like my father was fond of saying, guaranteed success involved working your way from the bottom up. I was once again grateful for my anger, it was like an invisible buffer that separated me from the world while simultaneously holding me together.