A Life for a Life

1 "I was only gone for a few days. How did everything come to this?" I stared at my son lying in the coffin and clenched my fists. Though his body had been prepared for viewing, as a professional boxer, I could see the extent of his injuries right away. My son had been beaten to death. His ribs clearly bore multiple fractures. His face, legs, and chest were covered in bruises that would never fade. There were at least five or six fatal wounds, and the back of his head had been stitched up. I couldn't bear to imagine how desperate my son must have felt at those final moments. My eyes were bloodshot, nearly bursting with rage. And my wife sobbed uncontrollably in my arms. "I went to talk to the dean," she said, her voice shaky with emotion. "He told me our son started the fight, and that his actions seriously tarnished the school's reputation, which is why he was expelled!" "I spoke to our son's classmates," she continued, tears streaming down her face. "They all said it was our son's fault. They even claimed he was spreading rumors around the school!" "I confronted the other parents, but they just threatened us," she added, her voice rising. "They said if we didn't back off, we'd face serious consequences!" Every word from her felt like a knife, cutting deeper into my soul. That night, I had the last bowl of pasta my wife had made for me. I glanced at the picture of my son on the wall before leaving home without a backward look. Once I stepped outside, I knew there was no turning back. I was going to make those who harmed my son pay. I would beat them to death. I wanted them to suffer a thousand times over. But I didn't rush into action because I needed to plan carefully. After all, there were quite a few of them, and I didn't want to run into any complications along the way. I tracked each one down individually and finally set the date for my revenge on November 2nd. That day marked my son's 17th birthday. As his father, I decided to give him one last meaningful birthday gift. 2 On the evening of November 2nd, around six o'clock, darkness enveloped the street, a familiar sign of winter. The first person on my list was the dean, Mark Green. My choice was simple: he had been divorced for over two years and typically spent his days alone, commuting without much social interaction. He lived in a detached house in a small village. Mark usually got off work right at six, just like today. I had already climbed over the wall and was now comfortably seated on his living room sofa, waiting. Thud, thud, thud. After half an hour in the quiet living room, I finally heard the sound of his dress shoes on the floor as he came through the door. "What bad luck! Who's the i***t that threw glass shards on the road? I had to push my bike back," Mark grumbled as he entered, shaking his head. He had a habit of hanging his dark blue coat on the hook by the door as soon as he came inside. "Who's there?" He froze when he turned on the light with a loud click and saw me sitting there. Startled, he slammed his thin frame against the door. He gasped, pain flashing across his face, and reached for his phone to call the police. I couldn't help but chuckle as I approached him slowly. "Mr. Green, you seem a bit confused. Take a good look at who I am!" Mr. Green rubbed his eyes, and as he recognized me, he lowered his phone. "Oh, it's Vance's father. We were so saddened by what happened to your son. We sent some compensation to your wife earlier." He continued, "Vance always did well in school. It's such a shame. If it weren't for his relationship, this wouldn't have happened..." He patted my shoulder, his voice heavy with sympathy. 3 It was too bad this guy wasn't an actor. There was a lot of talent at this school. Watching him act so pretentious, I decided it was time to proceed with my plan. As he made his way to the sofa, I swiftly wrapped my arm around his neck from behind. "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" His face flushed from my unexpected move, and he started to struggle violently. I said coolly, "What did you say to my wife? Do you want me to repeat it?" I tightened my grip a little more, causing his body to twitch. Of course, I wasn't going to end his life that easily. He didn't deserve it. "I'll give you one more chance. Tell me the truth, and I might spare your life!" I eased my hold slightly and spoke again in a cold tone. "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" Mark gasped as he tried to catch his breath, puffing his cheeks as if ready to scream for help. I quickly covered his mouth and landed a hard punch to the right side of his face. "Ah!" With one hit, I could already hear the bone crack in his right cheek, but he couldn't make a sound. He kicked the floor desperately, trying to break free from my left hand, but it was hopeless. I could see the pain in his eyes. I loosened my grip on his neck a bit more. "Hiss, hiss, hiss!" Mark had learned his lesson. He held back the excruciating pain and no longer dared to call for help. He started to explain how he had taken bribes from the abuser's family and how he had set up my son. "It's all my fault! I won't do it again. Please let me go. I'll definitely testify for you!" Mark bowed his head vigorously. 'What is going on? Now you realize you were wrong? Where was this realization before?' I murmured inwardly. 4 Back at school, if this guy had stepped in sooner, my son wouldn't have died so young. It all boiled down to his inaction. He was afraid of the abuser's family's power. But what's so terrible about a retired boxer? He didn't seem to understand how far a father could go for his child. I recorded everything he said before I threw a punch at the other side of his face. "Screw you!" I didn't hold back this time and sent him crashing into unconsciousness. Quickly, I took out the climbing rope I had prepared earlier and tied him to the chair. Once he was securely bound, I splashed a basin of water on him to wake him up. I wanted him to truly understand the consequences of his reckless words. "Ugh... What... What are you doing?" Mark's face was already a mess from the two punches I had thrown. As the water hit him, the fear in his eyes deepened. I didn't make him wait. I took out a large needle and jabbed it into his mouth. "Ah!" Mark immediately let out a terrible scream, his body thrashing violently. The chair creaked and shook under him. But to me, his strength felt like that of a baby. It didn't affect my determination to sew his mouth up. Yeah, that was exactly what I was going to do. Since he wouldn't tell the truth, he didn't need it anymore. His cries reached the yard, and at that moment, I didn't care if it reached beyond that. As he screamed in agony, I focused on finishing my task. I looked coldly at this hypocritical man, and as he struggled once more, I ended his wicked life. When it was over, I found myself retching. 'So, this is what killing feels like, huh?' I wondered. I spent a good five or six minutes with my face submerged in cold water in the bathroom, finally shaking off the last bits of discomfort. After that, I left his house and headed to a nightclub. 5 On the evening of November 2nd, around seven o'clock, I drove to a nightclub called Dreamland in the eastern part of the city. My son's classmate, Tony Clark, was already inside. I acted like just another guest and made my way upstairs, where the dance floor was packed with young people. They moved wildly to heavy metal music, eager to let loose and shake off their frustrations. I ordered a whiskey and took a seat in a corner, keeping a close watch on Tony in the center of the dance floor, looking out of place with his wild hair. "Tony, why don't you tell us again about that guy called Vance Holloway from your school?" A woman next to Tony, dressed in a revealing outfit, kept teasing him playfully.  They were talking about my son! Tony laughed and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. The people around them just cheered and whistled, not a single one batting an eye. My brow furrowed as a wave of discomfort washed over me. It was hard to believe that a high school student was spending his time in places like this. Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly squeezed my glass too hard and shattered it in my hand. Bright red warm blood dripped down from the shards. But in the club, the sound barely caught anyone's attention. It was just like a mere buzz of a fly. No one noticed me. "Do you want to hear more?" After a few minutes of kissing, Tony finally broke away, laughter erupting from him and the others around. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead. If you tell us, I'll just let you..." A woman with purple hair moved to Tony's other side and pointed to her lips coated with black lipstick. "Alright, alright, back then, Vance..." Hearing him joke around with my son's name made my blood boil, and I fought the urge to jump up and tear him apart on the spot. 6 The pain in my hand was a constant reminder to think before I acted. This was only my second target. I hadn't faced the real culprit yet, so I needed to avoid drawing attention. I couldn't let this guy keep talking, so I had to act quickly. I sat down before a scar-faced man wearing a gold chain. I pulled out my phone, entered a series of numbers, and pointed at the arrogant Tony. The scar-faced man looked momentarily surprised, but he quickly realized that it meant he was supposed to teach that brat a lesson. I instructed the scar-faced man on what to do. He nodded, took out his phone, and finalized the deal. "You stupid punk, how dare you go after my girl!" The scar-faced man slapped Tony's face several times. "Reuben I, I didn't..." Tony was stunned, and those around him were just as confused. They clearly recognized the scar-faced man, which worked in my favor. The scar-faced man, focused on his job, ignored Tony's protests and dragged him outside for a beating. Once he was done, he tossed Tony out of the nightclub as we'd agreed. "Tony, when did you get on Reuben's bad side?" At that moment, the woman in revealing clothes emerged from the club, only approaching now that the scar-faced man had left. "Stay away from me!" Tony pushed the woman aside, desperate to avoid another encounter with the scar-faced man. "Are you out of your mind or something?" The woman retorted, glaring at Tony as she was pushed away. She spat on the ground and turned back toward the nightclub. "f**k you!" Tony watched her walk off and spat on the ground in frustration. As the commotion faded, the onlookers began to drift back into the nightclub. 7 Tony had lost interest in staying here. He slipped into an alley, intending to take a leak before heading home. I quickly followed him, struck him from behind, stuffed him into a sack, and threw him into my car. I drove fast, taking him to an abandoned building. "Where... Where am I? Who are you?" A cold breeze jolted Tony awake. He found himself tightly bound to a concrete pillar. "Take a good look at who I am, brat!" I stood in front of him, gripping his face firmly with one hand. The dim lighting made the place feel eerie, and after taking a few hits, Tony was a bit disoriented. To help him see clearly, I pulled out my phone and showed him a family photo. "You... you..." Tony's voice shook the moment he saw my son. He never expected someone would come looking for him just days after my son's burial. "Sir, I... I didn't mean to..." Tony stammered, fear evident in his voice. A foul smell wafted around him. He had no personal grudge against my son, but he was known for spreading rumors. He had made my son's situation public knowledge. It was all over social media. Yet, he still felt the need to create more trouble, never seeming to be satisfied. I had planned to break a few of his fingers as a warning, but even now, he was still stirring up rumors at the nightclub. 8 I was determined to make Tony pay a steep price today. This wasn't just a trivial game of words or a few random actions. There were consequences to be faced. A grin spread across my face as I pulled a piece of wire from the nearby ruins. "What... What are you gonna do?" Tony stammered, shaking as he sensed me going through the stuff around us. I didn't respond much. I simply used tape to seal his mouth shut. Though this building was half-finished, it was still in the city, and I wanted to avoid any interruptions. I moved behind him, heated the thin wire with a lighter, and pressed it straight into his thumb. In an instant, the stench of burning flesh mixed with his muffled whimpers drifted from the top floor. "Ugh! Ugh!" Tony couldn't bear it and passed out from the pain, but since he could faint from pain, he could also wake up because of it. I pierced through his thumb, then his index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and pinky. Each time, Tony came to, only to faint again. Fortunately, after I twisted the wire around his two hands, he remained alive. Good, very good. He could do no more harm with his hands, but he still had a mouth. I glanced at the time. It was almost eight. The doctor who had falsely testified against my son was about to leave work. To save time, I wrapped up the torture without prolonging it further. I quickly disabled his hands and feet, then stopped. Whether he would survive after this was a matter of fate. For a student spreading lies, I wasn't going to take his life.