Cheaters Never Prosper

I took my sharpie and I wrote all over his car. I couldn’t believe that

he would bring my sister into our bed and expect me not to find out. That jerk!! I sharpied little obscenities all over his stupid car, along with some rather crude and immature drawings of certain body parts. In big, bold letters, I wrote the words “CHEATERS NEVER PROSPER.”

I stood there, sharpie in hand, and admired my graffiti on his car. Some rubbing alcohol and a cloth and he’d probably be back on the prowl. I’d still be here with the pain of knowing he cheated on me with my sister. Just above dad’s toolbox I saw

the baseball bat he used in his minor league career. That, I thought, would REALLY do some damage. I took it down from its place of honor and hefted it in my hands. Back at the car, I went for the side mirrors first, which broke with a satisfying smash. My grin felt unnatural as

snow on a hot day. Each swing felt better than the last, leaving a hunger i couldn’t feed. As a circled around the car taking pride in the damage i had done the feeling of remorse never appeared. it was almost like

any feeling heart I had before was pulverized within the car wreck and was replaced with pure adrenaline. Evil and good no longer existed for me as I tilted back my head and howled with bloodthirst gnawing through my veins. This was not enough. The eternal hunt for more began.