Vengeance?

Diana

I spotted him the moment he entered the hall. He was alone, as usual, with a serious, troubled look on his face. Momentarily I wondered what he was troubled about, but I immediately pushed that thought from my mind. I didn't care. No, I didn't WANT to care.

He looked around as though searching for someone. Angela, probably. As his eyes roved in my direction I looked away, afraid that my eyes would betray me. But he didn't see me, and he walked on towards his locker.

I was breathless with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see him hurt. To see him hurt and humiliated, the way he had hurt me. Now he would pay. Now he would regret calling me those names. My heart was on fire with anger. Strangely, though, there was a sick feeling in my gut that I could not understand. Almost a revulsion at what was going to happen. But I suppressed it as best as I could. I wanted to enjoy this. The way HE had enjoyed what he did.

He opened his locker and looked in. Then he froze, his mouth open in surprise and revulsion. I saw the nameless, inexplicable fear take him over and he screamed. Then he slammed the locker door and turned around.

The entire hallway was looking at him. He stood rooted to the ground, with a sickly pale expression on his face. I could see the fear etched into his eyes. Then his face became flaming red and he ran out of the hall.

The hallway broke out in derisive laughter. I heard the word "wimp" used liberally and scornfully. Nobody cared, he was almost an outcast anyway. Less then human in their eyes. He would never live this down.

My plan had succeeded exactly as I had anticipated it to. I had hurt him and humiliated him. More so, I had done it in public, precisely where I knew it would hurt him the most. I had achieved my goal.

I searched my emotions for the satisfaction and exultation I thought I would feel at the success of my plans. But to my surprise those emotions eluded me. All I felt was the sick feeling that had solidified in my gut and which I could no longer ignore. Even the anger that I had felt towards him was gone.

Realization dawned on me regarding what I had just done. I had acted spitefully, out of anger. Precisely what I had promised myself never again to do. The image of his eyes, wild in fear, seared itself into my mind. I had hurt him deeply. Him. And he doubtless knew that the perpetrator was me, for only I had known about the inexplicable fear he has towards those...things.

I realized then that I still loved him deeply. They say that you hurt the most those whom you love the most, and that was precisely what I had done. I had not made things better, only worse. Now he would never come close to me again.

I crept into the girl's bathroom and into a cubicle, locking the door behind me. Then I buried my head in my arms and wept as guilt and grief overcame me.

" I'm sorry, James," I whispered softly, as tears ran freely down my cheeks.