The meaning of freedom

The meaning of freedom

A Story by Lyndsay Gaynor

It’s been about an hour now, probably less. I don’t know. I’m too numb to even care. The enormous hole oozing blood from my chest is no longer sending teeth-grinding pain through my entire body. It is now simply a tap pouring my life out for all to see. All that’s in my mind is Gloria and the past two weeks of my life.

It all started when she went missing. It wasn’t like her. I was all she had. Where would she go? I filed a complaint at the sheriff’s office a week after I last saw her and it took only two torturous days for them to find her. She had washed up on our local beach, raped and killed. After identifying her body and seeing her beautiful face masked by cuts and bruises, I changed. I went from a misunderstood young girl to an enraged woman, hungry for revenge.

I had the worst day of my life the day the b*****d went free on bail. That was when I decided to take out justice of my own. If the law wouldn’t do what needed to be done, I would! I was going to make him regret ever laying his filthy hand on my love just because he didn’t understand her. It’s amazing what a seductive woman can do with a drunken man.

I followed the man who ruined my life for three days before I made my move. Dressed in a sexy red dress, I met him in a bar. One thing lead to another and by the end of the night I had him in my apartment. The fear I saw in his eyes, after he saw picture of Gloria and I together, excited me. He knew what I was about to do to him. It was obvious after I strapped him to the bed and shoved Gloria’s underwear in his mouth.

With a steak knife in my hand, I kindly removed the one thing most precious to him, the demon that took my love’s dignity and hope. There was nothing left inside me, but hate. Hate for him and hate for everyone in the world like him.

He was lying on the bed, trying to scream and beg for his life, trying to beg for mercy. Mercy? “How do you even know the meaning of mercy?” I screamed at him with fiery tears burning my cheeks. I could feel the bitterness rushing through my entire body. All I could think about was what he did to Gloria and the pain he was causing me.

He deserved to die slowly. I was planning to give him exactly what he deserved. First, I broke every one of his pathetic fingers and finally cut his Achilles tendon, leaving him helpless. He lay there, bleeding to death painfully. His tears mixed with his blood washed away my need for revenge.

All that was left after that was me, alone and scared. There was only one way I could be with Gloria. I took the knife that brought slight peace to my heart and stabbed myself. Not to instantly kill, but in a way that allowed me to feel each bit of my life leave this hell and go to her. All we wanted was to be free. We wanted the freedom to love whoever we chose, without judgement, discrimination or misunderstanding. That is the true meaning of freedom.

 

© 2008 Lyndsay Gaynor


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My goodness, I'm sure I enjoyed that waay more than I should have ;) Very well written, powerful words.

Posted 15 Years Ago


Wow. This is extremly powerful. Very moving. And oddly beautiful. There is nothing worse than a woman out for revenge.

Posted 15 Years Ago


No matter how much murder there was in this, is was really beautiful.
How the character and Gloria couldn't love each other freely because of the discrimination around them. I also love how she decided to kill the man who killed Glora. Its painful, but for what he did he surely did deserve it.

One of my favorites! Kudos!
Your very good, keep it up!
(:

Posted 15 Years Ago



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Added on July 31, 2008

Author

Lyndsay Gaynor
Lyndsay Gaynor

South Africa



About
I'm a simple girl who grew up in a tiny town in the country. Next to writing, my interests include art, photography, programming, chemistry, psycology, reading and such. For someone that loves writing.. more..

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