The train slowed down and then stopped at the station of the little town. A few passengers hurried to get off, but the most remained seated in their comfortable seats, waiting to get home to a much brighter, more lively city. The red-haired girl got off without hurry and headed straight for the exit, her steps quiet and light, despite the pressure that burdened her chest. After all those years, a time that seemed as long as a life time, she had finally come back to her home town. As she looked around, standing in the threshold of the station main gate, she noticed, not without a bit of nostalgia, that nothing had changed. There had been good memories too, here and there, among the shadows of her early life.
She stepped out and the wind messed up her long hair, but she didn’t seem to care about it. The streets were empty, a part of some lone shadows who walked quickly, eager to get back to the comfort of their houses or to reach one of the still open pubs for the company of a strong drink. She spared them just a quick look, more out of habit than because she really wanted to. His mind was elsewhere, not far in space, but much back in time.
It was late night and the darkness had already fallen on the little cemetery, covering him like a pitiful cloud, offering some rest to the dead as it did to the livings. The girl walked slowly among the tombstones, her steps getting slightly heavier as she approached her destination, until, after a couple of minutes, she finally stopped in front of one the tombs and knelt down in the slightly wet grass. She stared at the woman in the photo without a word. The memories of that day, the day that had changed her life and herself forever, were vivid in her mind, indelibly marked in her mind like the scars of a burn.
It had been raining heavily that evening. She had been at one of her friends’ place and she had decided to spend there the night because of the bad weather, not wanting to walk all the way back home under the storm. She had called her mother and they had nattered for a while, before saying goodbye to each other and agreeing that she would have been home by ten the next morning. That time had been the last she had hard her mother’s voice.
She remembered to have spent the evening talking with her friend about her ex-boyfriend, a rebellious, really possessive guy. They had been together for almost a six months, but in the end she had decided to split up one month before because she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt smothered by his senseless jealousy and he was always incredibly rude with her friends. She had decided that she was done with bearing his behaviours and she had told him that they were over. However,he hadn’t stop tormenting her yet, because he couldn’t accept her decision. He had been really furious after the break-up and had sworn to her that she would have paid for it. Even if she had felt a little worried, she hadn’t cared too much about that words. She had known that he could be a very vindictive and also violent person, but at that time she hadn’t been able to imagine how much. So she had had no idea of what was going to happen.
The next morning, when she had arrived at home, she had found the door unlocked. She had opened it and she had found her mother’s body on the floor in a red pool in the centre of the hall. She had frozen on the spot for a moment, not knowing how to feel, almost unable to believe her eyes, while her breath came out in painful pants, making her head spin. Her stomach was in knocks and the smell of blood was making her nauseous.
She should have fled, gone to call for help, but instead something had pushed her to make her move past the threshold and the corpse, deeper into the house. Unable to resist that pull, she walked in shock along the corridor and she had reached the living room. Her former boyfriend was lying on the sofa, covered with blood. Hearing her approaching steps, he had looked up at her with a crazy grin on his face and he had stood up staggering. He was completely drunk, something she had realised only later on.
In that moment, as she watched him approaching, something had snapped inside her, most likely her self-preservation instinct, and she had run out of the room to find help. But the guy had been faster and had grabbed her arm, throwing her on the ground. She had hit her head violently against the floor and she had lost consciousness on the spot.
When she had woken up, a couple of hours later, the guy had disappeared.
Nobody had believed her, no matter how much she had insisted. There was no proof to support her claims, no evidence to build a case up. So, tired of the pitying glances and of the voices that called her “the poor crazy girl”, she had left the town, trying to rebuild her life elsewhere and to leave the past behind, but without success. The memories had haunted them while awake and asleep, together with the feeling of having been wronged in the worst of ways. For that reason she was back now, years later, as a grown woman. The time to get her revenge and to sate the restlessness of her soul had come.
She spoke to the tombstone for many minutes, telling her mother about how she had spent the last years, speaking of normal things. Her studies, her new job, the few friends she had managed to make and keep. Then, with one last goodbye, stood up and left the cemetery. She didn’t know when she would be able to come again to visit considering what was about to happen.
She walked along desert streets as far as she reached his old house. She said made some researches and knew that he was still living there. He was home in that moment, the light coming from the window of the kitchen was enough of a proof. Without a hint of hesitation, she forced the locked door and stepped inside. The slow walk along the corridor reminded her of the one she had made past her mother’s body, but this time she was feeling completely different. She was cold, calm and lucid where she had been shocked, panicked and disoriented. She was in control this time and nothing was going to change it.
The guy was in the kitchen as she had predicted and, when he saw her, recognizing her ex-girlfriend even after all those years, he dared to smile, even if the surprise was evident on his face. He hadn’t been expecting her. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he spotted the gun in her hand. To her delight, his smile turned in a terrified expression, very similar to the horrified one that her mother had to have had on her face when he had broken into their house, years before. She took a moment to savour it, as a payback for all the suffering she had gone through, but she didn’t forget that she had to act quickly.
So, before he could do anything, before he could even scream, she entered the room in a couple of quick steps, raised the weapon and shot him in the chest, careful not to kill him on the spot. She wanted to see his pain, to feed on it as he had fed on her. The blood spattered on and around her as his body fell on the ground with a thud and a groaned. She lowered the gun slowly, while a triumphant grin widened on her face. She would stay there and watch him bleed, watch the light leave his eyes slowly as he suffered in agony till the moment when death would come.
Her chest suddenly felt lighter. That was what she had been needing for all that time. Now she would have been well again after years and years of suffering and inner torture. She didn’t care about what would happen to her, she had just achieved the purpose of her now useless life. They could judge her, call her “crazy” and a murder, imprison her for a lifetime, damned her to death. It didn’t matter, not anymore. She had already left that world the day she had found the her mother’s body. She had become a vengeful spirit whose only goal was taking the blood and the life of her murderer. Now that it was soaking her skin and her soul, she was finally at peace. Nothing else was important anymore.
When the police, which the neighbors had called after hearing the shot, arrived, she was still laughing, sat in the pool of blood, the gun firmly gripped in her hand, her eyes lost into the void.