"You painted me red, so I lived up to your expectations and became one."

I stared at you while you were kneeling in front of me. The make up on your face is perfect. Your mascara trailed black patches of tears down your cheeks, your lipstick smudged passed your trembling lips and I thought—what a sight to behold you were.

"I'm sorry. Please don't do this."

I stared at you blankly, unseeing. My chest is empty. I think, I lack the guilt of hurting you or at this point, torturing you and watching you bleed like a chicken in the hands of a poultry farmer. It's not because my heart is pure black now but because—you taught me how to turn it into black.

You taught me how to become a villain.

Do you remember?

"I'm begging you."

Do you remember me asking you the same pleas while I was kissing your toenails and you were laughing at how silly I look like years ago? Do you remember shoving my face against the asphalt with the underfoot of your Nike shoes and spitting your cigarette-smelling saliva on my face? Do you remember yourself mocking me for being myself and screaming for the whole world to hear how your brother defiled me because I fell in love with him?

Sick. It's funny how the tables were turned now.

"Do you have the file now?" I asked my assistant who was looming behind me in her black dress. She nodded at me.

"Would you like to upload it?"

Your eyes widened but you did not dared move from your spot. Smart move, my dear. Your brother paid thrice the pain last week when he tried to punch me. His left hand was rotting under the city river by now by the way.

"Would I like that." I replied with a faint smile on my face. "Very much."

I watched your face drain of color. How nice to see your smugness dissipate to fear and vulnerability. By now, I hope you already understood.

This is me avenging my innocence.

You don't hurt people because you can or spite them because you have the power and the upperhand. Time is not stagnant nor does superiority remain with the same person all the time. The world is round—not a prism where you could always stay on top. Nobody stays on top forever.

Not you or me or anyone else.

What you do to people will be returned to you in due time.

And this is my sweet revenge.

You painted my skin in bruises and scars. Stained me and ruined me until nobody could recognize me anymore—not even myself. You forced everyone to hate me and leave me to suffer alone. And now, you beg me to stop? You are silly if you think I'd let you slip away without unscathed.

You painted me red and now I'm the villain. Returning to collect the payment for your debts.

This is the price you have to pay.

Are you enjoying it? Are you? Because I am. In fact, I could turn this into a movie and I'd watch it during Christmas Eve. You must have been proud even when you're crying blood.

You were my mentor, anyway.

And mentors should be proud of their very own protégés. Right?

"PLEEEAAAASSSSSEEEEEEE!!!"

I turned around and left you as you screamed in pain and agony. You just lost your ten fingers anyway. Now, you can't point them at me anymore. Oh. You can use your feet. I left your toes for that purpose. You can thank me later.

Aren't you glad to be the villain, reader?

© astaire_grey