Blinded

A Story by Acixs Rybout

Currently channeling my frustrations into my writing might be good but it's probably bad.

She watched with mirthful eyes as her childhood tormentor screamed in pain, tears cascading down her face. The doctors always told her to rein in her temper count to ten, and other stupid s**t like that. But the didn't know how it felt they were blind but she would open their eyes she would open their eyes and they would see.

She remembered every time her tormentor attached her, every kick, every punch, every bruise, and every venomous phrase that was spit from those horrid white teeth. So when the fourteenth anniversary of the day the b***h had caused her to be blinded in one eye, she had taken the little prude and her daughter and locked them in the lovely rooms she had prepared. The white room and the dark room neither had any windows and only a single door. The white room was well lit and was painted with the most brilliantly blinding white paint. The dark room on the other hand was painted ebony black, with no lights at all so it was pitch black and terrifying to the young child of only five. She laughed she would make the b***h pay with everything but her life.

She had provided the child a water bowl and a plate of cookies, she wasn't a monster after all, the child just needed to be out of the way. She finished editing some recordings and stood, time for a little fun.

She stalked down the hall to the door of the White room and stopped, why should she give the b***h the satisfaction of knowing who she was?
'You shouldn't' a quiet voice murmured at the back of her mind. Always trust the voices she told herself they would never lie to you. With that resolve she grabbed a simple blank mask from the stand next to the door, check her right pocket and entered the room.

There she was the b***h she hated the most. Her tormentor had grown from a prissy brat into a beautiful woman, long bleach blond hair fell in curling rivers around her heart shaped face. Her skin was a Carmel tan colour and her eyes once brilliant green had faded with time so that they now resemble pond scum.
Oh how she loathed that name the name of her tormentor, Veronica Norton.

Veronica Norton sat in the White room she didn't know how long she had been here, hours? Minutes? Days? She couldn't tell. She sat on the farthest wall staring at the silvery door that lock her in this place she already hated. The floor was hard and smelled like bleach, while the walls made her want to puke it was the ugliest shade of white she had ever laid eyes on. She couldn't wait to meet whoever put her in here so she could chew them out. They would let her go with out a doubt once they knew what they had done. Her daddy would have the filthy peasants arrested for ever daring to lay hand on her. Yes she thought once the filthy mongrel knew who she was she would be out of here in no time.