Revenge Is Best Served Red

A violent story concerning raging revenge. My main character's heart has been turned stone cold and nothing will faze or hinder him from his following atrocities.

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He easily surpassed the penthouse's security gate and slit each guard's throat from behind. He proceeded to the main doors, where he picked the lock without effort and walked placidly through them. The lights were all on and he could hear talking and laughing. He checked each room surrounding the living room and found them all empty. He blocked all of the exits but one and then loaded his silenced pistol. He slammed the doors open and stood gazing at the astounded host, hostess, and guests. He walked carelessly to the nearest chair, sliding his gloved hand across it as he sat. several guests started murmuring to each other while watching him. After getting over his shock the host stood up and addressed the unmasked man.

"If you don't mind my enquiring, would you inform me of your name, sir?"

"It makes sense that you don't know, a week after we met you probably had already forgotten."

"I'm sorry, I don't know you. I must ask that you leave, this is a private party."

"Hmm, I guess I'll just put an end to this party then."

The host sighed impatiently and walked to a small speaker on the wall. Pushing the red button he said

"Security send two men to my living room." There was silence on the other end. The host looked at the uninvited visitor uncomfortably. Uneasily he attempted to contact security again and got no response. The nonchalant man pulled out his pistol and smiled slightly at the host.

"They must be preoccupied. George Weston."

Multiple guests started screaming and tried, unsuccessfully, to get out through the blocked doors. The man stood up calmly and shot four of them straight through the heart.

He sighed exasperatedly, "I don't like using this, would you please be so kind as to get on the ground with your hands on your heads?

The guests became silent and ceased trying to escape. They did as they were instructed by the uninvited guest. The host still stood by the speaker, looking at his murdered friends.

"Please, Mr. Weston. Join them."

Weston cautiously walked over to his friends and wife while keeping his eye on the gun.

"You wanted to know who I am? I am Matthew, Matthew Thorn."

George's mouth fell open and his eyes widened.

"I know you don't care, you never have cared about anything, but my wife is dead. As is my mother and all of my children. You took that away from me. So I have come to take something away from you."

He got up and leaned on the last unblocked door.

"I suppose I should replace my bullets, but have two bullets left, so tell me Mr. Weston, who shall die?"

George, his wife, and the last eight guests all lay silent on the floor.

"So be it. I'll choose for you. The wife it is."

"No! Not her!"

"Then choose."

Matthew walked up to his wife and pointed the gun directly toward her head.

"Thomas! Thomas and Cindy."

Thomas stared at George.

"George, please! Leave Cindy!"

The gun was empty. Matthew walked back to the door and started reloading.

The host jumped up and charged towards the door, the other guests quickly followed his example. Another body hit the floor. and they all stopped and stood still. A man sat on his knees over a woman with a knife in her throat. Thorn stood holding his coat back revealing another knife.

"Now, now. Be good captives and go back to your spots."

They did as he said and he finished reloading. After he finished he walked up to the man whose wife had just been killed by the knife.

"I know your misery, I only wish someone had been there to do this for me." he quickly thrust his dagger through his neck and out.

George sat pulling his hair with his hands. "Leave them alone! I'm the one that did it to you!"

"And that's why I'm the one doing this to you." He walked to George, took his white hanky, and proceeded to clean his knife meticulously.

The guests watched as a puddle of red surrounded his last victim and started making its way to them.

"Who's next, Mr. Weston?"

Weston stared in horror as the realization reached him. He picked, one by one, as Thorn had the guests, one by one, lie directly beside the previous victim.

"Isn't it annoying the way murder can be so messy, Mr. Weston? If you all had just done as instructed the bodies wouldn't be so scattered. I suppose I must tend to that once I'm done here."

George and his wife were the only living captives. Thorn pulled her away from her husband's side and stood in front of him holding the dagger to her throat.

"Please, please Thorn let Tiffany go. Have some mercy Thorn!"

"Why? You never did." He made sure George saw her face as she sobbed hysterically.

"Go on, tell her she'll be okay. It's what you do isn't it?"

"You're going to be ok Tiffany, you'll be ok." His voice was breaking as he spoke.

"Of course, you will Tiffany, soon. Soon you'll be ok." He pulled the knife and let her fall from his arms. George Weston scurried to her side and sat with her head in his lap rocking to and fro. Matthew allowed Weston enough time so that his clothes and hands were stained with the blood then jerked him away. Thorn bound and blindfolded him then dragged him to his car and threw him in the trunk. George woke up unbound in a small room, Matthew was setting something up, though George couldn't figure out what. He tried to stand and painfully found that each of his legs had been broken. Matthew dragged him to the middle of the room and tied each of his hands to straps hanging from the roof. He took two clips and after some struggling, he managed to clip each of George's eyelids to a machine that allowed him to blink for one second every minute. Matthew left the room and returned with a glass of water and a plate of warm food that filled the room with a smell of home. Then walked out.