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Revenge Is a PaperMask

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Mask by gusartt editted

I can't find a picture of the original PaperMask, so here is an edited photo of a lovely mask by Gusartt.

And I felt the numbing of the cold weaken my grip. I floated there, held up by a single strong cable. I waited for you. You always dealt here, peddled your wares to the confused and the desperate.

You killed her and I shall avenge her. Her curiosity did not kill her but your corruption did. You made her crave the unnatural and caused her early demise.

This is not me; I wear the mask because what I am now is only revenge. My very identity has been suppressed as I become the one to take you down.

You're a slovenly monster, you don't walk, rather waddle as the weight of your greed, and gluttony and cruelty weigh you down to the speed of a leech. And that’s all you are really, a leech, feeding off of others.

You walk down the dark alley as I hang about. I wonder if you will know this white coat. It was the white one she wore the night she died, the one I lent her. She begged you for her addiction, the nightly fix, that you made her crave. She tried to fight you and you stabbed her to death you sick fuck.

I release the grip that’s been holding that rough cable for more than an hour now. I land on my feet behind you and look at you, down there in the filthy alley you reside in. You look towards the alley entrance and see me there, with that coat, coated in spatters of her innocent blood.

I throw a smoke bomb and our thin bricked arena is veiled in fog. The knuckle dusters do the job as I beat you senseless. Why, why did you have to, have to live such a sick life, have to survive this way, feeding off of her, murdering her. They couldn’t prove you did it but I knew it was you. She was my friend, my classmate, she had such potential and you murdered her.

I tie your hands behind your back and take from you the very knife that killed her. You should have worn gloves, like I have, they leave no fingerprints. The police couldn’t find this knife but I have. I hold back your head and trace the blade, slowly hovering just above your neck as you beg for mercy.

I’m sure, even she didn’t beg as pathetically as you do now. You’re like a squeaky fucking child. The sirens roar and I hear the arrival of the lawmen. I take out my collapsible ladder and still coated in smoke, climb up to the rooftops and take the ladder with me.

I watch as they pulled you out the fog, still screaming. They don’t know why I called and they don’t know why I left. I could have killed you there. But then this mask wouldn’t be able to come off. I’d always be that thing, that revenge-driven monster which made you piss yourself in fear. I called them so they could find you with that weapon, so you’d finally be caught with your pockets full of illegal substances and be there, begging for a jail cell.

She wouldn’t have wanted me to kill you, but I almost did. I would have loved to make that final wounding tear across your throat. I guess we all become monsters in the wrong situations. You’re taken away by the boys in blue and I take off that fear-invoking mask. It looks even uglier now. It’s been used to incite terror and it shows. When she taught me to make papier-mâché, this wasn’t her intention. You’ll remember this face. Those slim sinister eyes that watched you cower. Those sharp teeth smiling cheek to cheek in joy at the dread I have caused you.

I throw it away with the coat; I have no use for them anymore. I watch them fall down into the alley and I feel the burden removed from my shoulders. I start the long walk home. I’ve come a long way to find you lurking in your damp pit. It has ended tonight. I go to her grave, leave some flowers and carry on with the rest of my life.

I can't help but wonder, how much pain and anger I left in that PaperMask... It felt so heavy to wear, as if it was plagued by emotion and dark thoughts. I pray it falls to pieces in the rain... Heaven forbid, someone were to find it, and put it on their face...

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