Page 5 of Vengeance of Childhood Proportions (Till Death Do Us Part #7)

It was nearly time. We had our plans, were making final preparations. I was bringing them all back home.

There was a news article about my suicide in the paper last year.

I had written it myself, even ending it with the misleading information that my suicide had been successful.

I did not send it to anyone on my list. I did not want them thinking about me.

If one of them saw it and sent it to another, that was fine, but I did not want suspicious activity to happen leading up to the start of my revenge.

Instead, I sent the article to those who had not had a part in my attack.

I sent it to my hometown officials and the school principal.

The adults who had done nothing to avenge me and had covered up my attack for a fucking sports title.

Had any of them even put together that the only years the high school had won the state championship was the year of my attack and the year I’d been locked in a mental facility?

Did they think the series of accidents that had occurred over the past eleven seasons that stopped them from the championship was just bad luck?

My list expanded past the fifteen students who had had a hand in my attack. I was going after the adults who had failed to protect me after the fact. Who had cared more for a fucking trophy than they had my life.

My own parents were on the top of that list.

Some of them had already been dealt with.

Jason called them my practice runs, to ensure I would be able to stomach what would happen when the real revenge started.

There were some still left. The big ones, like the former sheriff and the high school principal, would be last. They would see what their inaction wrought before I killed them too.

In addition to learning to fight, survivalism, engineering, and becoming a master of disguise, I also learned human anatomy and psychology. I studied various torture devices invented over the years and adapted them to ones I could use.

I had no plans of walking up behind my victims and shooting them in the head. I could. Jason had taught me how to shoot, along with knife and sword fighting. But it would be too easy. Too quick.

They had made me suffer. They had made me bleed . They’d left me hanging there for hours , just waiting to be discovered by some unfortunate soul. Fortunate for me, that soul was Jason.

I owed them pain. I owed them torment. I owed them a chance to repent and grant them their forgiveness.

We did construction on the bunker too. Rather than have an open floor plan, cells had been erected. We used a mixture of steel and reinforced concrete with polycarbonate walls. I wanted my victims to see each other, to see what was coming for them too.

Almost time…