Revenge Wedding
Today should have been the day Dylan Jones and I held our wedding.
But now, the Shaw Family's living room is devoid of flowers and blessings—only the suffocating stench of gasoline lingers, and five people are bound to the sofa.
They are my parents, my brother Henry Shaw, my adoptive sister Maggie Shaw, and my fiance, Dylan Jones.
I placed the iron gasoline drum in the center of the living room; its bottom struck the tiles with a heavy thud.
The acrid gasoline fumes, like an invisible snare, slowly engulfed the entire room; each breath was thick with choking poison.
"Nora, don't be impulsive! Let's talk this through calmly!" Mother's voice quivered with unmistakable fear; her eyes were locked onto the lighter in my hand, her face etched with terror, her body instinctively retreating into the corner of the sofa.
I sneered coldly, my fingers tracing the metallic surface of the lighter.
The flame flickered within the windproof guard, the orange-red light reflecting in my eyes before I swiftly snuffed it out.
"Talk calmly? When you abandoned me in a foreign land and let me be kidnapped, why didn't you think to talk calmly to me then?"
Dylan Jones struggled on the sofa, the ropes biting into his wrists, leaving deep, red welts.
He looked at me, eyes full of desperate pleading, his voice urgent: "Nora, I know you've been wronged, but our wedding is just days away. Please release everyone first, and I'll help you sort this out, okay?"
I stepped in front of him and slowly knelt down.
The hem of the wedding gown dragged across the floor, dustied and stained, the once-immaculate lace now tarnished.
"Sort this out? Dylan, you've always known how merciless my parents are to me, how Maggie Shaw stabbed me in the back, yet you've always chosen to look the other way. Do you even have the right to talk to me about sorting this out?"
He parted his lips, as if to offer some defense, but under my icy gaze, the words died unspoken, leaving only the silent twitch of his mouth.
At that moment, piercing police sirens blared outside, growing louder and sharper as they neared.
The flashing red and blue police lights streamed through the window, casting trembling shadows against the walls, rendering the entire living room disturbingly surreal.
A police officer outside bellowed through a loudspeaker: "Listen, people inside—drop your weapons, release the hostages, and we can talk!"
I stood up and walked to the window, carefully pulling it open just a crack.
Cold wind swept in, carrying the scent of gasoline, sending a shiver down my spine; the wedding gown I wore fluttered faintly in the breeze.
"Talk? Fine. But I have one condition: you must send a sniper."
The police officer's voice faltered, clearly unprepared for such a demand; even the air seemed to pause.
After a few seconds, his voice returned, tinged with caution: "Why do you need a sniper? We do not recommend extreme measures. Any grievances can be discussed."
"I want him to kill me," I said with calmness, my voice utterly flat, as if discussing some matter that held no bearing on myself, "Once I have taken my revenge, I will die."
Dylan Jones, upon hearing my words, struggled even more fiercely; the chair's legs scraped against the tiles with a jarring screech that sent a chill tightening through my chest.
"Nora, don't be foolish! You can't die! We still have a future ahead of us!"
I cast him a glance, my eyes ice-cold, bereft of any warmth.
"My future died the very day you all cast me aside."
After speaking, I took a fruit knife from the tea table.
The blade was razor-sharp, flashing a cold gleam under the police lights, reflecting my icy visage.
I approached Dylan Jones; he stared at me in terror, nonstop crying "No," his voice laden with hopelessness.
I did not hesitate; with both hands, I plunged the knife violently into his chest.
Blood surged out instantly, splattering onto my wedding gown like blooming, sinister red roses, the crimson stains spreading wider across the fabric.
Dylan Jones's eyes widened in disbelief, blood welling from his mouth. His body convulsed a few times before falling utterly still, only the blood flowing relentlessly from his chest.
Dylan Jones's body lay sprawled on the floor, blood slowly seeping through the cracks in the tiles, leaving dark crimson trails across the surface.
The atmosphere in the living room grew heavier, suffocating; even the sound of breathing was sharpened, each inhale laden with the foul mixture of blood and gasoline.
My parents cowered on the sofa, too frightened to utter a sound, their shoulders trembling faintly, their bodies shaking uncontrollably.
Henry Shaw trembled all over, his face as pale as a sheet, eyes filled with terror, too afraid to meet my gaze.
Maggie Shaw looked at me with a fierce mixture of fear and hatred, her teeth clenched tight, a flicker of bitter resentment burning in her eyes.
I stepped in front of Maggie Shaw and tapped her cheek lightly with the back of the knife.
The blade's chilling touch made her shiver, her body recoiling slightly.
"Maggie, haven't you always liked me? Liked seizing my things, liked watching me suffer—so why aren't you smiling now?"
Maggie Shaw bit her lip, eyes brimming with defiance, her voice shaking but still resolute: "Nora Shaw, you madwoman! Our parents adopted you, fed you, clothed you, and this is how you repay us?"
"Adopted me?" I laughed bitterly, tears escaping uncontrollably, splattering onto the wedding gown and blotting a small stain spread, "You only wanted the Missing Children Subsidy tied to me! And wasn't it your own cousin, Alex Lewis, who abducted me all those years ago?"
Maggie Shaw's face turned deathly pale in an instant, a flicker of panic flashing in her eyes as she dared not meet my gaze.
"You... what nonsense are you talking about? I don't know what you mean!"
"Nonsense?" I took a photo from my pocket and threw it in front of her.
In the photo, Maggie Shaw and Alex Lewis stood in a secluded alley; Alex held a wad of cash, handing it to Maggie. Both wore expressions of smug satisfaction.
"This is the evidence I found. It clearly captures your transaction with Alex. Do you still want to deny it?"
Maggie Shaw gazed at the photo, her lips trembling as if to speak, yet no words formed; she could only surrender to the creeping terror that etched itself across her face.
I closed my eyes, and the memories of those days after being trafficked surged relentlessly through my mind.
A dark, damp room, its walls riddled with mold stains, the air perpetually thick with a rancid odor.
Each day, I was given only small portions of moldy steamed buns and pickled vegetables; even a single bite of warm rice was a luxury seldom afforded.
Whenever Alex Lewis was in a foul mood, he unleashed his fists and kicks upon me; my body was a landscape of bruises, old wounds unhealed, fresh ones ever multiplying.
"I was only ten years old back then," I opened my eyes and stared at my parents, my voice trembling with choke, each word gasped out from the depths of my throat. "Every day I wondered if my parents would come to find me, if they'd worry about me. But you? You took the Missing Children Subsidy from the government, bought new toys for Henry Shaw, new dresses for Maggie Shaw, lived a comfortable life, and never once sought me out!"
Father finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if sanded raw, heavy with weariness and fear: "Nora, it's us who have wronged you, but you've already killed Dylan Jones. Enough. Let us go."
"Enough?" I shook my head, my eyes full of scorn. "Far from it. What you owe me must be paid back bit by bit— not a penny less."
I grabbed the gasoline drum, twisted off the cap, and poured some gasoline onto the sofa.
The gasoline seeped through the seams of the sofa, soaking my parents' clothes. The fabric quickly grew slick and shiny, releasing a stronger gasoline stench.
"Today, let's have a proper 'party' together and see who laughs last."
Outside, the police were still negotiating with me. A man claiming to be a Negotiation Expert shouted through an amplifier, "Nora Shaw, I know you've suffered many injustices. You can talk to me; we will help you seek justice, but you must not harm the hostages."
I walked to the window and spoke into the amplifier: "Seek justice? How do you expect to help me seek justice? During those years I was trafficked, I lived every day in fear and agony. Who can endure the suffering I suffered? The wounds inflicted by my parents and Maggie Shaw are etched into my very bones—who can ever make amends for that?"
"We can bring those who harmed you to justice, ensuring they face legal sanctions." The negotiation expert's voice was gentle, trying to soothe my emotions, his tone full of patience.
"Legal sanctions?" I sneered coldly, disdain thick in my voice, "They've committed so many vile acts—can the Law sentence them to death? No! Therefore, I will judge them myself, forcing them to pay for what they've done, trading their lives for their sins!"
Henry Shaw suddenly spoke, his tone threatening yet weakened by fear: "Nora Shaw, don't cross the line! I am your brother. If you dare harm me, I will haunt you even in death!"
I stepped before him, my gaze ice-cold, enunciating every word: "Brother? When have you ever treated me as a sister? As children, you snatched my toys and threw my books into the trash; as you grew, you stole my money and claimed I lost it myself."When I was bullied by Maggie Shaw, you even joined her in laughing at me. Do you deserve to be my brother?"
Henry Shaw was left utterly speechless by my words, bowing his head low, unable to meet my eyes. His shoulders trembled slightly, clearly pierced by the pain my words inflicted.
"And my uncle's family," I continued, voice heavy with repressed rage, every word steeped in hatred, "When the police found me and brought me back, my uncle promised to take me to an amusement park, but instead led me deep into the remote countryside and forced me to toil for their family." Every day, before dawn, I have to get up to feed the pigs and cook, and at night, I still have to wash their children's clothes. They won't even give me food to eat. Have you all forgotten these things?"
Mother hurriedly said, "Nora, that's all in the past now. Can we not bring it up again, alright? One must look forward!"
"The past?" I shook my head, tears uncontrollably streaming down my face, sliding down my cheeks and dripping onto the ground. "These things are like knives, stabbing deep into my heart. Every time I remember, the pain steals my breath away. How can you say to just forget? When you hurt me, did you ever think these wounds would torment me for a lifetime?"
The negotiation expert's voice came again: "Nora Shaw, release a hostage first to prove your sincerity, and we will likewise show our sincerity in talks. For instance, we can agree to some of your reasonable demands."
"Sincerity?" I gazed at Dylan Jones's corpse lying on the ground, my voice laden with derision. "I have already shown sincerity—I killed Dylan Jones. He was an accomplice, an accomplice to all of you.""If you want to negotiate, then accept my terms and send a sniper, or else there will be no negotiations at all."
"Nora Shaw, don't be stubborn! A sniper is meant to deal with dangerous elements, not to fulfill your extreme demands!" The negotiation expert's voice took on a hint of impatience and grew more serious.
"Then don't expect me to release any hostages." I finished speaking, ignored the negotiation expert outside, and turned to face Maggie Shaw.
I will make her taste the pain I endured back then first, let her feel that same despair.
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