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What Goes Around Comes Around

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One day, I swear I will get him, and when I do, he will go in the most horrific and painful of ways.

The thought had brought a sinister smile to my face, and if anybody was unfortunate enough to have met the abomination that was my "brother", they would certainly share the same thoughts as myself.

During my childhood, I was a quiet little girl who was so innocent and loved so much to play with my plastic animal figurines. I can remember being alone in my tiny box room, playing contently with my Animal Hospital sets for the majority of the day.

Being within my own little world was amazing, and nobody could interfere with it. Of course, nobody had a perfect life, and my depressing set back was the pathetic excuse for a brother that I had to endure living with day after day. He was a bully, a worthless waster, but even that is not a powerful enough insult for the piece of scum.

Every single day, I would continually get beaten by him. He would punch, kick, slap, bite, push and hit me with objects. Most commonly, he targeted my skull and stomach area, as that is was used to hurt me the most. Whenever I went near him, or the other way around, I would get struck by either a fist or hard object. What makes it very sad it that not once did I ever do anything to provoke the attacks in the first place.

Of course, my parents did little or nothing to defend me, just a quick tap on the brute's wrist and apparently all was taken care of. It seemed to me that they did not want to come to terms with the fact that they had produced such a vile piece of shit and in their minds, burying their heads in the sand seemed best.

Bearing in mind that the creep is more than twice the size of me, I did not do anything to stick up for myself. To tell you the truth, I was scared to stand up to him anyway.

Years had passed but nothing changed. Friends told me that he would simply grow out of his aggressive and dangerous ways, but of course they were wrong. Naturally, I grew up despising my brother with every cell that was attached to my body.

The beatings continued and I suffered in silence. I can remember on a number of occasions that he snatched at my hair so hard, he pulled clumps of it out of my head. Again, mother and father did nothing, just told me to go to my room so they could hope that it would blow over.

But it was not just physical abuse that I was suffering, it was verbal abuse that came along every day too, barely surprising though. What do you expect from a messed up human being? Names such as slag, slut, whore, bitch, you name it and I was called it. The really sad thing was that I was in a serious, long-term relationship with somebody that was going really well. Clearly he had difficulty truly understanding the meaning of the word "slag."

My self confidence was dramatically affected by that low life to the point where I would rarely speak a word to anybody and self-harming became an issue too. When my parents found out, they did not talk to me about how serious my problem was, they both just told me off and said that cutting yourself is what freaks do. Yes, so that didn't really solve much. I made my best attempts to avoid my brother at all costs, but when you are unlucky enough to live under the same roof as a sickening pig, it can prove to be difficult.

One day, I was in the kitchen preparing a sandwich for myself to eat for lunch. To my joy , the pathetic nobody entered the same room and made an attempt to push me out of his way. But I was not going to be a feeble little girl anymore, I was in my late teens and had enough of this shit! So, at first, I quite bluntly ignored him and continued to prepare my lunch. Surprised that I did not react or back down, he grabbed the cupboard door that I was stood in front of and bashed it into my legs as hard as he could. And that was it for me, something snapped and I swiftly turned around to face the pig before punching him with all of my force just under his left, beady eye.

The expression of shock upon his face was just so priceless! I was so proud of myself for finally standing up to him and it felt amazing! Of course, within seconds, he ran to mummy with his tail between his legs - not that I cared much, I almost felt like a new person and I discovered some of the confidence that I had lost so many years ago. Feeling so alive and pleased with myself, a spark of inspiration hit me and I loved where it was going. So many years I had been suffering, but now, it would be his turn...

This could not have been timed so perfectly! I came to learn that my parents were both working one evening, so I would be home alone with that waste of oxygen all night, it could not have been planned better. I patiently waited until the house was emptied of my mother and father, then I excitedly skipped over to the back door of our house, entered the garden where our garage was and collected a baseball bat from the bleak collection of bricks and cement. Before returning back to the house, I took a deep breath and attempted to calm my nerves. "It's fine, I'm in control here, I know what I'm doing."

Exhaling, I let myself back into the house and did my best to climb the stairs in a casual manner and finally, I had reached the top. The dull, wooden door to my brother's room was less than six feet away and it was then that I began to feel nauseous within my gut.

After a few quick seconds, I forced my way into his rubbish dump of a room and before he could react, I smashed the baseball bat into the back of his head with as much power as I could. Fresh crimson liquid stained the wooden bat and more blood escaped the newly made wound. But I was not finished there so I checked for his pulse. Still alive, good. A smug grin formed upon my lips.

An hour, yes, from what I can remember, he was unconscious for at least an hour. I think that I was lucky that he did not die there and then, that would of taken the fun out of my revenge. We were in the living room and whilst he was passed out, I took the time to securely restrain him to one of our dining room chairs using string metal chains locked in place with a padlock. He was completely helpless, his pointless life at the mercy of his little sister.

"It's about time you woke up, lazy shit." My hazel eyes were locked within his sheepish and confused gaze, burning into him with pure hatred. Pathetically, he scanned the room with fear in his eyes and then froze at the sight of my collection of instruments that I had laid out on a table nearby. With his eyes now burning with angering and turning back towards me, he started to scream abuse, cursing at me in a sad attempt to unnerve me. But I simply remained stood where I was, quite unfazed by the bullshit he was coming out with.

"Lets get started, shall we?" I said in a sickly cheerful tone.

Walking over to my variety of tools, I picked up a large and freshly sharp pair of scissors, then subconsciously gave a small smile before saying, "You have an extremely foul mouth, but I can fix that for you."

With surprising agility, I pounced at my brother's face, forced open his vile mouth and clamped the scissors around his flailing tongue as quickly as I could and without hesitation, I snapped the two blades together, severing muscle with ease. A blood curdling scream soon erupted from my brother as blood gushed down his chin and stained itself all over him. He started to cough and gurgle uncontrollably from having difficulty breathing due to the amount of blood flooding his mouth. I paused and simply observed my helpless sibling while he suffered and the sight was magnificent! A thought of inspiration struck me as I returned the scissors, now dripping with blood, black to the table.

Next, a pair of pliers attracted my attention for my second task, so I bought them to my brother's mouth as well. Locking the tool around a tooth, I grinned happily, then yanked as forcefully as possible, taking the tooth with me. Once again, more blood escaped him as it followed the same pattern of overflowing over his chin. More painful screams blasted from my victim as I repeated the action with every tooth he had. The back teeth were a particular pain to remove, but after rotating them and hearing a few cracks, I finally got them out. Fresh blood started to form a pool on the floor below the chair that steadily got wider with each minute that passed. With one final crack, I was finished.

The distressed screaming continued and after a while, it began to strongly irritate me, so I reacted by punching him in the face, then I spat on him with disgust. "You make me sick," I hissed.

It was time to try something else, so walking back to the table, I swapped the pliers for an acutely sharp scalpel. Making my way back to the feeble abomination before me, I held the gleaming razor before him and explained calmly that he would need to remain still. But by now, the weakling was trembling with pure fear and a foul odour strongly floated into the air. I locked eye-contact with my terrified and degraded brother then burst out laughing with a hysterical cackle. The stupid bitch had pissed himself! It would of been sad if I did not find it so amusing.

Without saying another word, I aimed my scalpel then pressed it on my sibling's forehead and cleanly dragged it all around the circular shape of his porky face until I connected the incision together. At this point, the whelp had started to cry and I saw tears run down his flabby cheeks, but I did not show any sympathy, why should I?

I put the scalpel down for a moment and with intense concentration upon my face, I used my fingers to slowly peel away the flesh, starting at the top of his skull. Warm blood trickled down his face and after a few moments of insanely loud screeching, my brother passed out. Rolling my eyes and letting out a heaving sigh, I decided to continue peeling the face away to keep me occupied until he awoke again. Pulling the last bits of skin away, my brother face had been skinned quite nicely and I felt proud. I laid it on the floor in front of my unconscious victim and grabbed a mirror. Approaching my brother, I slapped him across his raw flesh and to my approval, he came back to reality. I giggled and said, "Look! I have something to show you, sleepy head."

Holding up the mirror in front of his mutilated face, I giggled to myself as he squealed with pure terror and pain. "You should be grateful, it's an improvement," I bluntly pointed out.

By holding the mirror in front of him, he was forced to observe his gory features for long, agonizing minutes. Where a nose once was, there was a gaping, triangular hole where mucus and blood oozed out, he had no eyelids, just circular, frantic, panicking eyes that stung and watered due to a constant exposure to the air. A wonky, bloody line indicated where his mouth and teeth used to be in place, with the gums still leaking out fresh blood.

When I got bored, I withdrew the mirror away and once again returned to my collection of tools, this time picking up a meat cleaver. I then turned and briefly inspected what was left of my brother. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness and I got slightly concerned that he might pass away a bit too soon.

I plainly approached him again, grabbed his hand and extended out his index finger. Due to the lack of blood now circulation his body, my brother was too weak to even pull away from my new weapon. To my amusement, I slammed down the meat cleaver, severing his chubby finger and this new, burning pain caused him to become fully awake once more. He let out a weak wail and sobbed, hanging his head low with his stringy, greasy hair covering his unrecognizable face. I pondered upon what I could do next, then I raised the meat cleaver and swung it at the side of his skull and a high pitched scream followed shortly after. An ear fell to the ground and I swiftly repeated the action on the opposite side. I picked one of the severed ears up and and force fed it into the helpless fool's mouth. "You like food don't you, you fat fuck! Well, here, eat up."

He began choking, spat out his own ear and then vomited. Some of the gross matter splashed on to me, so I slapped him with disgust and spat on him."Vile pig," I said.

Letting out a dull sigh, I rubbed my face and sniffed, then brushed my long, brunette hair back and cleared my throat. I was starting to feel bored and got very sick of the sight of that piece of shit still sat before me.

Returning to the table of instruments for the final time, I picked up a jar containing a clear liquid and opened it, careful not to spill any of the contents. I wasted no time in pouring the liquid over my brother's face, then watching the affects take place instantly.

His fleshy, bloody face began to fizz and gurgle and an indescribable scream filled the room as the liquid ate through his flesh. It leaked on to his neck and other body parts, making new wounds and also bled and bubbled violently. Finally, his entire head had been eaten away by the acid and nothing was left but a mass of bubbling, gory mess.

At last, I got my revenge, and I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. "What goes around, comes around, you motherfucker."

Written by Okameh
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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