"Hell Hath No Fury" by Emma M

They say that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Well, even if I did believe in a heaven or a hell- tonight, I feel it’s red fire simmering in my bones, rolling beneath my fingers and pulsing through my blood. My fury is a righteous, unending one, the kind an avenging angel would have, holding the sword of justice. He thought he could get away with it, breaking my heart and giving the pieces to another. We were happy, Him and I and Her, until I was removed and it was just Him and Her, Her taking my place with Her blue eyes and brown hair, Her pinks and purples and blues, everything He ever wanted. They were my heart and my soul, each completing a piece of me, Her making my lips curl and Him making my toes do the same. My best friend and my lover. No longer either, her blue eyes staring into His chocolate ones, practically a perfect pair. His eyes, the ones I still think of when I smile- His smile, big and bright, that matched perfectly with his laugh that I love- no, loved, because now all it reminds me of is Her. Everyone else is on His side, with His charming ways and clever brain He’ll win them over and say I’ve gone mad. Well, mad I am. If they want a show, if they want a spectacle, this old sleepy town of mine, I’ll give them one. They will see that I will not crumple with despair, I will not break like a used porcelain bowl, and I will never show their probing eyes a weakness to be exploited. Everyone is watching me like a sinking boat, wondering when my fire will burn out and my head go under the water. But thanks to Him, my fire is unending, burning with a cool determination to eat everything in its path, and it will last for the rest of my life. I will make them suffer. “She made a deal with the devil!” they'll say as I make their lives crumble before their eyes, and I’ll laugh. I didn’t need a devil to feel like one.

         I’ll sneak over at night- yes at night, where the moon is high and I am hidden in a blanket of darkness. I will go to the bedroom window, right under the curve of the white roof, and wait until I catch them lying together between those pale green sheets. Yes, this way my revenge will be complete and all-encompassing, why do twice what you can do once, for both the brown and blue eyes are at fault. And then I shall take the knife held by my hand- the one with blood on it, Her blood. The one that's drip-dripping down the blade and staining my shirt with blood, the one that was buried in her pretty chest, cutting through layers of caramel and crimson. I’ll give this tainted blade to Him, bury it in his sheets, wrap his crooked fingers around it as he sleeps, staining those green sheets a bright scarlet, and I’ll go home. I shall burn my clothes in a fire that rivals the ones from Hell, its orange flames licking up and devouring any trace of a friend I once had. And as he wakes, as his brown eyes open to find the pale face and glazed eyes of his new Partner, I’ll smile. He’ll remember, He’ll know, that Hell hath no Fury like mine.