text: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to stab a knife into a person? To put all your strength into your hands as they grip the handle, piercing the skin and pushing it into their organs? I imagine it would be as simple as slicing through pork or beef. Flesh is so delicate and soft, so easy to tear apart and expose the organs hiding underneath, drag them into the light so he can see them. I want him to. To watch as I rip his liver from his body and wave it in his face. God, that brings a smile to my face. To imagine the fear in his eyes as I draw the knife back and slice into his hand, cut off his fingers, his toes, especially his cock and balls. I will leave the tongue though, so he can still whimper and moan and beg like the swine he is. I don't even know his face at all. I just picture the most disgusting thing imaginable about this man. I used to imagine this particular day. But I don't have to anymore. I did it. I finally got justice for my mother. I was calmly shopping in the store, getting some Reese's peanut butter cups or some nice hot dogs. I had college work to do but that could wait just a bit longer. Thank God it did, otherwise I would have missed him. I see this big man. He's obese, probably in his forties, with a grey beard, unkempt and wolfish. He's talking and laughing with someone else, maybe his friend, a small balding man in black. I don't pay attention at first until he says something that catches my attention. "Yeah, I went to that college. Got kicked out for bad behaviour. This one time, my girlfriend cheated on me. She kept insisting over and over that she didn't, it was just that her friend's husband had gotten drunk after a party, but I could see it in her eyes. Lying slut. How many other men has she let fuck her? I showed her alright. Hope she's a prostitute in Brazil or something, fucking cunt. Women, you can't trust them..." I freeze. My mind goes blank. My hand curls into a fist from which blood trails down. I turn my entire body to face him. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. My heart beats like the engine of a Hot Rod. I could use my nails to gouge out his eyes, but no. That's too good for him. I walk towards the man, slowly, taking in how he towers over me, how he could easily snap my neck. So I stop, look around and there it is. Resting, waiting for me. It always has been. Knives are beautiful things. So much work is put into crafting them, making sure the edge is just right, the design is perfectly crafted with engravings. This one is a cooking knife. Long, lean, brand new. As I pick it up, I cannot help but stare at my reflection for a few seconds, studying my face. Probably the last time before I go to prison. Will I be raped in there? Made into someone's fuckboy? I honestly don't care by this point. This is my only chance. I had to take it. I hide the knife behind my back as I walk back over to the man. Then I ask him a question. His name. And when he tells me... Do you know why love is the strongest thing in the world? Because love drives a person to lay down their life for others. Humans are instinctively supposed to value self-preservation yet the need to protect their loved ones overrides this. What am I about to do will destroy all chance I have of a future. I will never be able to get married to the girl I love. Nobody will want to be the friend of a murderer. Nobody wants a psycho working for them. I will probably die in a cell, alone and content. My family...what will they do about this? They will be shocked but will they also be happy? Those that know who this man is and what he has done? Will this tear them apart? I don't care. I can only think about one thing right now. His name. The name of the man of the man I have been waiting years to hunt down, brought to me by what can only be an act of God. A college dropout scrapping off the bottom of the social barrel like a leech. As the man stares at me, there's a look in his eyes. I must look familiar to him. I do take after my father. I wonder, does he know about him? The man who married the woman he violated? The one who loves her? Does he hate him? Is he plotting my father's death as part of his twisted idea of revenge on her? Will he ever just leave her alone?! *HASN'T HE DONE ENOUGH TO HER?* I will never know. Because I am screaming as rage consumes me, causing my hand to move unnaturally quick as I sink it into his flesh. He gasps, shocked, unable to respond. I can feel something warm and sticky coat my fingers as our eyes stay locked with one another. My grin takes over my face with wild abandon. The other guy stares blankly. He holds up his hand and takes a step forward. I'm too fast for him. I pull out the knife and drive into deep into his shoulder. He collapses, like the worthless sack of shit he always has been, on his back, feebly holding up his hands, begging for mercy. The other guy backs off when I glare at him, then he runs. Probably going to get security. So what? This asshole is mine. He always has been mine. His fingers come off, his hands are mutilated, I keep swinging the knife into him, piece by piece, inch by inch, I slice apart his stomach and rip the organs out. Some people are screaming. He's crying. I'm laughing. This the greatest moment of my life. Ironic it may be the last. Better get all I can out of it. "How does it feel to be helpless?!" I snarl through clenched teeth after I bite his ear off, spitting it at his face, "How does it feel to have something shoved into you?! Do you feel like a man now?! Like some big, strong fucker who can do as he pleases with whoever the fuck he pleases?! Do you even remember her name?!? Do you dream about it?! Does it turn you on?! *Does it!* ***DOES IT?!?"*** I don't stop until he's gargling blood through his ruin of a neck. He's still staring right at my face. The fear and despair in his eyes as they go blank is bloody intoxicating. Fucking coward. I lick my lips like the manchild I am. I look over his mangled body as I hear the police sirens coming. Security is just watching me, unsure of what to do. They are gonna be fired over this. There's blood on my face, my shirt, my hands, God I am a mess. But all I can do is smile as I wait on top of him. The knife went where his dick should be, making a nice, bloody hole. Perfect. Hope he remembered what he did when that happened. I pull out my phone to take a selfie of me and the finished product. The picture is beautiful. I could stare at it all day. But I have to do this. People have to know. And so they will. Instagram, Facebook, imgur, Reddit, I post it and pass it on, telling the story. Of who I am. Who he is and what he has done. I can feel tears run down my face. They won't stop. I wipe my eyes as everything just settles down and I come down from my high. Quiet sobs escape my mouth. Dear God, what have I done? Will the news pick this up? I already know how they can sell it. "TEENAGER STABS HIS MOTHER'S RAPIST TO DEATH IN SUPERMARKET!" They probably will go with that. Yeah, they will say I should have called the cops, but you know what? Fuck that. He hadn't faced the justice he deserves for twenty goddamn years. I had the chance to give it to him and I took it. I don't care about due process or evidence or innocent until proven guilty. All I care about is that my mother will finally know he didn't get away with it. He paid the price. I made sure of that. She can rest in peace now.