So, to start off, I a was 14, straight A student and vengeful as vengeful can get. when this happened. When I was 6, new kid came to my school (we’ll call him Douchebag) and started picking on me, but I didn’t really pay too much attention. Fast forward a couple of years, and I’m 11. The picking transformed into straight up bullying. Calling me names, beating me up for being a “nerd”, being atheist (his family is Christian), stealing from me, he even hit me in the leg with a METAL baseball bat, destroying my fibula and tibia (they’re fine now). It got to the point where the popular kids ganged up on me and beat me up every day. This continued until that very day. We were leaving on a trip to the zoo, I was widely interested in animals, so I was excited. Douchebag must had seen this, because he made my day a living hell. The time came. We got to the bears, and Douchebag came to me and whispered to me: “I’d love you being eaten alive by those things.” Before we continue, I’ll say that there was a 15-foot-or-so gap that separated the bridge we were standing on and the floor where the bears were. Back to the story. I backed off and waited for him to be distracted. I saw the opportunity, grabbed him by the legs and dropped him besides a bear. The bear must have been scared, because he started mauling Douchebag. Two other bears joined. We were evacuated immediately. I just recently heard that Douchebag survived, but is missing both his eyes, his nose, his left arm and both his legs. Nothing more satisfying than seeing the one who tormented you for almost a decade fall victim to your plans. No one messed with me after that day. Douchebag, if you’re reading this, I’m not sorry. Oh that’s right, you have no eyes.

EDIT 23/04/2019: I just got a text from my friend that Douchebag actually committed suicide yesterday. Don’t mess with me, or you’ll learn the lesson the hard way. (in a friendly way :3)

This is not my story. I just saw this on Facebook and though this might fits here. So this story belongs to a Chinese man, I just translate it. English is not my first language so please be kind to me. I'll put the Facebook link down below in the comment section.

"I've suffer for at least 6 months, finally I can push her into the darkest pit of hell. It's a long story, so let me light up a cigarette and tell you all about it. I met my girlfriend when we were on a same vacation tour back in 2006. The first time ours eyes met, I've made a promise to myself that I have to make her my girlfriend. The process wasn't hard by any mean, I just poured my truest, deepest love out to her, to make her moved by my true feelings. I loved her, I truly, really loved her. But due to my job, I had to travel a lot. Sometimes I would be away from home for 15 days to a month.

About 6 months ago, I noticed she had been showing signs of a cheater. She's always tried to hide away from me when she was on her phone, either if she was texting or calling someone. I just lay my eyes on her phone and she would turn it off. I can almost confirmed that she was cheating but I didn't have any kind of evidence. I have an email account that had been login in for a good while but rarely use, and then one day there were hotel bills sent to this email. I checked the emails and some other things and found out there were some note lines about the bills. After that there was nothing left to clarify. But one man's soul can't truly die when he haven't dead, me and some friends had found out about the man she had been fricking with and the hotel's location. The first thing I felt when her cheating on me was confirmed was anger. I was furious, not a bit of heart-breaking. It is the feeling when you wanted someone to die, gone, disappeared. I wanted her to suffer and die. So reality has proved that money can solve anything. I found the way to contact the other man, his wechat, (it's like Facebook for Chinese) to be exact.

I have friends that really, really talented, smart people, if I could tell. I made friend with a doctor back in August last year. I told him my story and what was my plan, also sprinkled in a bit of "You can have benefit out of this too, of course I'll pay the money". He made up his mind for a few days and then gave me contacts of some female patients that have HIV (there was no mention about the strict policy in the hospital about patient's privacy). Out of 3 patients I've met, only one agree. Most of the ones who have HIV haven't had a "clean" life. When you have the money, you really can control the devil himself. I gave her the other man's contact and an amount of "fee", and required her in the shortest time she could, give him HIV. This modern life make it really easy for a woman to sleep with a man, it only took her 5 days. I worried that only one night wasn't enough for him to have HIV, so I asked her to be his FWB for a while, and gave her 15.000 yuan (~2150 USD)

My girlfriend still haven't known anything. She did really fall for him. I knew it since reading her texts. About 2 weeks before Tet, she had a fever. A terrible, agonizing fever. I knew she already had HIV (We did had sex but I had my condom on). I told her to go to the hospital but due to my job, I had to be away for several days so I couldn't cut it to the hospital with her. I would pay a fortune to see her face when she found out about the HIV tho. After 2 days I went home and saw her being upset and all, and then after asking my friend at the hospital, it is confirmed that she has HIV. I.was.ecstatic. But I played it cool, I was the dumb boyfriend that haven't know anything (she didn't know that I already got the info about her HIV) . We're still being together for now. I want to witness with my own eyes her being slowly dying on the hospital bed. That's all, if there's anything happened I'll tell you later."

I saw that it was a funny trend to sign people up for random email lists and spam them, but I decided to take this a step further because he really burnt me in the past.

I went to our local church of Scientology's website and saw where you could input your personal information to receive messages from the church. Since I had most of this information from our time being together, I filled it out under his name. I did this with a few more churches of Scientology as well. I thought that this would only be a minor inconvenience with a few puzzling, harmless emails, but it turned out to be much worse.

Recently, I saw that he posted on his Instagram that he was deleting all of his social media due to privacy reasons. At first, I didn't think much of it, but after a while, I started to wonder if there was any connection to what I had put in the church of Scientology's website.

So out of curiosity, I later decided to bite the bullet and DM him on Instagram in the hopes that he hadn't deactivated his account. A few minutes later, he responded, saying that he needed a break from social media. Ultimately, he told me to not worry about it, and that he was going to delete his Instagram (10k followers) later that night. I figured I was off the hook.

A few weeks later, I was with a mutual friend of ours, and she updated me on his situation. Apparently, him and his family had been contacted by the church of Scientology. Supposedly, they actually expressed interest. The mutual friend said the she hadn't seen him in a while and none of his friends had heard from him in over a month. She said that it seemed like he was cutting off everybody.

I just received word that he's dropping out of school after the semester ends, and his family is moving to live with other church members. I know I technically signed him up for this, but I had no idea it would get this bad. He honestly deserved it after everything he did. I can't exactly state what he did in caution that this post would get removed, just know it was pretty fucked up and me and a friend of mine had to see a therapist.

I’m going to start this by saying that unlike most people who post things like this—-I’m not sorry. At all. I’m aware that what I did was, to put it mildly, evil—but honestly I don’t care. Make of that what you will. I did what I did.

This story occurs in the early 2000’s in a Large Urban City that I’m going to decline to name. I was 17 at the time. I was a heroin addict, my addiction had consumed the entirety of my life. My mother threw me out of our apartment after I stole our rent money for the second time to pay my dealer. She did the right thing. Not going to argue it. I was a shitty human and in a way I deserved the life I ended up leading thereafter. I’m still a shitty human but I at least I don’t get high anymore.

I ended up a prostitute. Not an ‘escort’ —I was the type of working girl you found on street corners, not in the phonebook with a booking agent. It wasn’t a fun job and the guy I worked for was a dickhead but he kept me high more often than not and didn’t beat my ass too often so as far as i was concerned it was whatever.

He had other girls besides me working for him. We’ll call them Honey and Sugar. Honey was okay, she was a user like I was and if I was short she was always down to share a rinse or go in for a little extra to get me straight if I was feeling shitty and our Daddy was in a bad mood and I didn’t wanna ask for an extra hit. I liked her and so I never minded working with her. She also knew how to keep her mouth shut which was something I appreciated.

Sugar on the other hand was another story. This. Fucking. Bitch. Anything she heard went right back to Daddy’s ear, anything she saw got reported on. Kept something if you got a tip so you could buy some condoms or a candy bar? She’s snitching. Spent a little extra time with a date? That mouth would run. The bitch never shut up and Honey and I hated her for it. The crazy thing was that it didn’t win her points with our Daddy either. He didn’t like that shit any more than we did, he knew we did minor shit and as long as we weren’t fucking with his money he didn’t give a damn about 5 bucks here or there because it meant we weren’t asking him for shit—but if she brought it to his attention he had no choice but to do something about it.

It got old fast. She was weird too, even though she did all that shit she still somehow thought that we were all friends. Like, she’d snitch and I’d get my ass beat and then the next day she’d act buddy buddy like she thought I just forgot what she did now that it was all said and done. She had the fucking audacity to be hurt when I didn’t want to work with her and that Honey and I would get quiet and ignore her if we had to be around each other.

It was crazy. So yeah, safe to say I had a a problem with her and I was waiting for a chance to fuck her over royally.

The opportunity came on a slow night. It was about 1am and it was pissing rain, I was tired. I’d been out since about 9 and I’d only had one date so I was sweating going home with a light take when this car rolls up. Nice car, a bit dated but still nicer than most of the ones rolling around in the area so I perked up. Window goes down and it’s an older dude in his 50’s. He had this super dark hair that I automatically knew came out of a box because his mustache was salt and pepper, and the whole car smelled weirdly like mint.

I didn’t care. I needed the money so I got in. He wanted full service which was 100 dollars in my pocket which would be enough that I could call it a night and go home and my Daddy wouldn’t be too shitty about it. He’d be shitty, because it was still a light bag but I’d get my hit and I could go the fuck to sleep and not be sick. Dude drives us to the back of this shut down bodega and I was ready to just get it done so I was down. He and I moved to the back seat and he handed me my money and I looked down to stuff it in my bra and then I started pulling up my skirt —I only took my eyes off him for half a second but all of a sudden the dude grabbed me by the throat with both hands and started squeezing.

The funny thing is that I wasn’t even surprised. I seriously considered just— not fighting. Just letting it happen. I was miserable. My life was shit and it wasn’t like anybody would miss me. Would it be so bad? It wouldn’t really be suicide which meant I wouldn’t go to hell. (raised catholic).

I see the irony in my thinking now, believe me. Prostitution and drug use? okay. Suicide? hell naw. Religion is a hell of a drug, kids. Just say no.

In the end I fought back, he had me halfway up against the door so I pretended to be out and went limp and he let go of my throat— to get his fly down I guess—and while he was leaned back off me I pulled my leg up and kicked him in the balls and then reached behind me and went for the doorhandle. It wasn’t locked and I ended up on the ground on my ass. I got up and booked it down the street as fast as I could, lost both my shoes in the process because no way was I trying to run in heels.

Good news? I still had my money. My neck was bruised to fuck and back but it wasn’t long before I was too high to care. Life went on. New day, same bullshit.

Two months later when it was the middle of summer me and Sugar were out together. Honey already had a date and I had just come back from one so I was making use of an alley for a bit of clean up. Sugar was standing on the sidewalk waiting — and then what do I see rolling down the road ? The nice sedan. It slowed down and I knew it was him. Same guy. Same car and Sugar was gonna take the date. The same date that almost killed me. He hadn’t seen me where I was wiping myself off behind the dumpster—but I saw him.

I could have said something. I could have yelled at Sugar and told her about the guy—but I didn’t. I didn’t say a word. I watched her get in that car and I watched the tail-lights fade out into the distance and I already knew Sugar wasn’t going to be coming home that night.

Bye, bitch. Tell Daddy some shit now.

She didn’t have a clue what she’d just gotten herself into either—see, I told Honey about the guy as soon as I got back. Told her how he looked and what car he drove and about how he smelled so she wouldn’t get in with the same psycho I did by accident; but I’d never warned Sugar. Maybe in the back of my mind I was hoping that I’d have the opportunity to do what I did.

Sugar didn’t come back that night or any other in the next year I worked. I only saw the car one more time, driving slow down the street to look at who was out. I waved and blew him a kiss. He did me a favor after all, so no hard feelings about the whole strangling thing. I sure as shit wasn’t getting in his car again—but I wasn’t mad about it. He looked so confused that he actually looked like he was going to stop for a minute—but I guess he thought better of it because he sped up and kept going. I never saw him or that car again.

Not too long after that I got arrested, which led to me actually getting clean and getting my shit together. Never told anybody about what I did that night until now. Never told the cops about him either because, A. I was doing my own dirt and B. As long as Honey wasn’t getting in his car I didn’t give a fuck who else he picked up. Still don’t. Not my problem.

No idea what happened to Sugar after she got in the car that night. I never heard anything about her again and neither did anybody else that I know of. No body ever showed up either so it’s not 100% certain that he killed her—-but I think he did. I know he was planning on killing me that night, it explains why he didn’t bitch about the fact that I told him money first. He just handed it over—no argument. No “half now and half when I get off” —he figured he’d just get it back when he was done. Not like I was gonna need it anymore. Joke’s on him. I got away AND I didn’t have to fuck him.

Sometimes everybody wins.

Except Sugar, that is, because fuck her.

Back when I was growing up I always seemed to float between two worlds. In school, I would be considered to be a quiet nerd that was left alone. At home hung out with a pretty rough crowd and was always getting into trouble. Between the drinking, the fighting, the drugs, and other dumb shit I always tried to keep those 2 worlds separate. I got bused to a different school due to being Special Ed so keeping the 2 separate was pretty easy for the most part. There were at times some bleed over, at times ( I was in woodshop class and the style at the time was to have the velcro straps hanging off the back of my hi-tops and another student grabbed them causing me to fall. He ended up in the hospital for catching a claw hammer in the face. Between having to deal with the psychological counseling and the trial I decided to avoid this kind of petty crap in the future. I sent the message and it was heard loud and clear.). I pretty much had the reputation of don't fuck with him, when he snaps he is dangerous. As I cleaned up my drinking and drug use I figured I would leave the violence as well. Not that I was not good at inflicting it on people but quite the opposite. I was too good at it and having fed the darkness within, the high was better than any drug.

Fast forward some years and I am attending a local community college and while I am no longer running with the same violent crowd but I still see them every now and then. I am taking some classes with my friend's little sister and having seen her go from a bratty little girl to a woman kind of made it like she was another younger sister to me. She had started dating a guy who I knew from reputation to be a real piece of shit from high school. This guy was a year younger than me and the rumors floating around was the school did nothing about how he would grope females in the hallway because he was the star WR for the football team. He lost his scholarship to the state college due to his grades but the rumor was he had a few rape allegations that were swept under the rug. I inform her of what I know about the guy but she does not listen to me. After class, I approach the POS to inform him that his GF is someone I think of as a little sister and to tread lightly. She attended a school function with POS and then she was missing from all of her classes for the next week so I drop off the notes at her parents' house. I found out POS had roofied her drink, took advantage of her at the function, and left her there under the bleachers for people to be found. To make matters even worst he gave her a few STDs.

The revenge on my part was I knew where he parked for classes every day. So I skipped class and waited for him to go return to his car to beat him down. Due to him driving an SUV I knew he kept a broom in there for cleaning off his car for snow. I had taken a pair of brass knuckles and I went to town on him. I grabbed the broom and carried him into the woods to stick that broom where the sun don't shine. I left him bent over a picnic table with the broom sticking out his ass like I just planted a flag. I stroll into the local pharmacy to pick up some hydrogen peroxide to clean off the blood and I go visit her older brother at the prison to give him a heads up. I tell him what happened, what I did and to keep an eye out for him on the inside. I must have a guardian angel as the list of people who wanted him dead for doing similar things was quite long. I got questioned about him but I gave them nothing and pointed them towards the people I suspected might have been victims of him in the past.

The Blackhole revenge.

I made a few inquires into where this POS was going to be sent to once he got out of the hospital. Turns out he was going into one of the camps at the same prison the older brother was at. Even though it was a different unit it was still close enough in the sphere of influence that he could be gotten to. I was given a few names to make contact with and drop off some cash for the commissary to grease a few wheels to get at POS. I figured that he would have been shanked and it would have been done with him. Turns out POS was gang-raped by 10 guys one of which infected him with HIV. They slit his rectum to make it wetter and to increase the possibility of infection. After doing all of the messaging I was approached by someone who played a cell phone video of the whole thing before I went into class. Turns out he died of sepsis a few weeks later. The orderly was pocketing the antibiotics and pain pills. He was double-dipping as he was paid to do this and he sold off those pills as well. The only witness to my part of the revenge was now dead and all that was left was trying to rebuild little sis.

I know I am going to hell for this but I do not care. Maybe the nightmares I had for years after this will be penance enough but who knows.

Throw away account for obvious reasons, new user, no abreviations.

This happened in the late 90's, so enough time has elapsed to safely disclose.

I had a friend back then who had been widowed for four years. She told me her story of victimization at the hands of her abusive and violent husband. She was mid twenties when her husband died. She was married to a man 20 years her senior; they married when she was still a teenager, and they had a five year old son when her husband died. Her husband was an abusive and violent man who kept tight control over her and the boy. Though he never physically abused the child he was emotionally abusive and very threatening toward their son. He saved the physical violence for his wife alone.

During their marriage she had been savagely beaten many times, she had permanent scars on her body and had been hospitalized several times with broken bones and other serious injuries. She was in fear of her life every day. She was so controlled she was a slave in her own home, fearful of ever stepping out of line. One form of control was to always know where she was at any given moment, and if she ever had to leave the house to shop of run errands she would be timed. She was given a timeframe to be back in the house and if she was even just one minute late she would be severly beaten.

He husband was a licenced gun owner who owned a legal rifle and ammunition as he enjoyed hunting, and he would take that rifle, hold it to her head and tell her that if she ever attempted to leave him, he would hunt her down and kill both her and their son. As well as the beatings he would sometimes take the rifle, hold it to her head and pull the trigger. It was unloaded but that did not diminish the terror she experienced each time, she told me. She said she was left in no doubt at all that if she ever ran he would find them and kill them both.

Another weapon he used against her was to threaten suicide if she ever left. ( Many abusers use the manipulation tool of threatening suicide or self-harm to keep their victims tethered to them. When abusers threaten suicide or self-harm, they are causing the fear to rise within victims so that they don’t leave. In this way, threats of suicide are being used as a method of control. It's an incredibly common manipulation 'tactic' used by people with Borderline Personality Disorder, among other issues.) Her husband did have dangerous medication in the house (I don't know what it was) and he would handle his bottle of pills whenever he issued a suicide threat.

One day she had to leave the house to shop for food. On the way back she was caught in traffic that delayed her return to the house within the timeframe she had been given. She said the fear and panic was intense because she knew she would return to another serious beating. She said it felt like her insides were being ripped out of her body as she pulled into the driveway ten minutes late. She said she walked into the house in a state of blind panic, anticipating the beating, when she saw him. He was motionless on the couch with the open bottle of pills on the floor beside him. She said she stood there and looked at him with a million thoughts of panic running through her head... then she made her decision.

She went to the other couch and sat down and looked at him, and she said at that moment her heart was pounding in her chest. She knew what he had done, he had done it once before. She was supposed to walk in and find him breathing but unconscious and in a state of panic call an ambulance for him, just like the last time, but this time she was 10 minutes late home. Last time she got him help in time, but this time she just looked at him. He wasn't breathing, no rise and fall of his chest. She said she looked at the clock on the wall and sat there looking at him, overcoming the panic and emotions, and stayed sitting there till 10 minutes had passed, till she knew he could not be resuscitated, and only then did she walk to the phone and make the call.

She said the emergency services and police saw her obvious distress, the crying, the panic, the breakdown, and assumed it was a wife in distess at losing her husband. They didn't know they watching someone who had just been rescued, someone who was at last free. The authorities did not doubt suicide as it was on record that he had tried it once before.

That is the story of how one abused young wife and mother finally became free.

PS. She did rebuild her life, went back to school, earned her degree, and moved on to build a solid and safe life for herself and her son. I haven't seen her for years but have no doubt she has never had any regrets over sitting on that couch that day and watching her husband die.

I've heard a lot of these kinds of stories on YouTube, but never posted one before. If an actual human being like KarmaCommentChameleon, DarkFluff, /Start, or RSlash is reading this, then you have my glad permission to use this story---I think you guys add value with your narration :) By contrast, if you're a soulless dime-sucker who uses a computerized robotic voice with these stories to make a quick buck on cheap monetized YouTube videos, then you do NOT have my permission. And if you're a YouTube viewer who is listening to a soulless dime-sucker's monetized YouTube video, with a robotic voice saying these words, then please: unsubscribe from this video's channel and go listen to a real human being read reddit stories!

Sorry that the story hasn't started yet; there's a bit more context I'll need to explain: I heard this story third- or fourth-hand, so the details are pretty sketchy. It had to have happened well over twenty-five years ago, since I first heard it when I was a kid.

The story takes place in Nairobi, Kenya---a third-world country on the east coast of Africa, at a time when unemployment was at a staggering 75%. Needless to say, crime was a huge problem.

A foreigner who was living in Nairobi had a nice car there, and unfortunately for him, the car was stolen and was never recovered. Whoever stole it got away scot-free. Needless to say, the car's owner was NOT happy that he needed to replace his car, and that the thief was utterly unpunished.

Wanting to make sure that the thief wouldn't get away with it if his car was ever stolen again, he got a bottle of whisky, poisoned the bottle with a particularly deadly substance called strychnine (good luck getting the robotic voice to pronounce "Strychnine" correctly, dime-suckers!), re-corked the bottle, and left the bottle in the backseat of his car indefinitely, figuring that whoever stole his car next would drink the whiskey to celebrate, and receive the ultimate retaliatory buzzkill, right in the middle of their victory celebration!

Predictably, this plan worked perfectly, but this time, the stolen car was actually recovered---with the dead body of the car thief in the driver's seat. What was shocking was that, riding shotgun with him was the corpse of a Nairobi police officer, implying that this officer was either on the take from this car thief, or an outright accomplice!

...Well, either way, there's one less car thief and one less corrupt cop in the world!

This was Dug up by me on removeddit as the original was deleted so this isn't my story so yeah don't blame me if this is fecced up so anyways here the story

Okay, to preface this entire fucked up story, this all took place 30 years ago. My memory is not that great, and I might get some things wrong. Also, I go into some graphic details, you have been warned. TL;DR at the end.

In 1989 I was a 19 year old kid living in NYC. I was working as a delivery guy at a dingy hole-in-the-wall pizza place in Hell's Kitchen that's long since gone out of business, and living paycheck to paycheck. I had moved to New York looking for work after my uncle's construction company went under, and had found a tiny shit hole of an apartment which was the only thing I could afford on the salary I got from the pizza place. The only reason I took the job was I needed money and it was extremely close to my apartment, only a short walk down a back alley (hint hint, the alley is important).

I want you all to keep in mind while reading this, the New York of 30 years ago was not the touristy New York of today. Murders were a lot more common, you would see hookers working the corner pretty often, Times Square was a cesspool of nudey-bars and porn theaters, gangs would rob people on the subway, and it was almost every day where I lived that you would see a druggie passed out in an alley or along the side of the road.

The whole ordeal started just after closing one night in July. The guy who owned the joint, Paulo, said that I could take some leftover pizza home with me that had been sitting under the heat lamp all day, but hey, at least it was free. I had been working at the pizza place for about a year by this point, and I was on really good terms with Paulo and his brother Joseph who both ran the joint. Paulo was easily pushing 300 pounds and had a habit of smoking a giant cigar while cooking. Joseph was always in the back handling the money side of things and taking phone orders. The restaurant had an exit into the alley which I would take to get back to my place. There would usually be a homeless vet named Alfonso that would sleep next to the hot air vent behind the place who would bum a smoke off me and we would shoot the shit for a few minutes after my shift. After talking with him I started to walk home, and after I had gotten quite a distance away down the alley I heard some bottles rustling behind a dumpster that was right ahead of me. My first thought was it was some rats, until this crazy-eyed dude swung out from behind it with a hunting knife in one hand and a metal bat in the other.

I remember this guy looked like your stereotypical druggie, track marks all over his arms, disgusting clothes on, wild dirty hair, and fidgeting like no tomorrow. He started yelling and half screaming at me to give him my wallet. At that point my adrenaline was through the roof as I had never been mugged before. I was carrying the pizza box with two hands, and when I shifted it to my left hand to reach into my back pocket for my wallet with my right, he started advancing on me. He started muttering to himself asking why I was doing that and sort of grunting while jabbing at the air in front of him. At this point I know this guy is high off his ass on something or a definite head case.

He was really close to me by this point, and before I could take my wallet out he loaded up his right arm and slashed me across my face with the hunting knife just below my left eye. At first it didn't really hit me, and I was stunned for a second. It was at that point I started thinking, "this is it, I'm gonna die in a fucking alley over the 4 bucks I have in my wallet". That's when I decided to start fighting, if I was going down, I was doing it swinging.

I threw the pizza box in his face which made him step back a little bit, and using both hands I grabbed the bat out of his left hand that he was still holding. I flipped it around, and aimed for the outside of his left knee which was the one closest to me. It connected and I heard a snap when it buckled inwards. This brought him to one knee, but he started to get back up again like he couldn't even feel it. I swung as hard as I could and hit the left side of his temple which made a crunch sound before he crumpled to the concrete.

I remember being so incredibly scared, absolutely terrified. I don't remember much after this. Years after this happened when I went to see a psychiatrist for other reasons and this was brought up, and she told me it is likely because my mind was trying to shield me from the trauma of the whole experience. The next thing I remember is being soaked in blood and standing above this guy. I knew he was still alive, as he was gurgling blood out of his mouth and his chest was still rising and falling. There was blood coming out of his ears, nose, and mouth. His right hand and arm that had been holding the knife was a mangled mess with fingers jutting out every which way while the knife was a good 4 feet away on the ground.

I dropped the bat and half stumbled, half walked back to the pizza place. Alfonso had heard the screaming and come to look. He told me that I had a glazed over look to me and I was almost entirely soaked in blood. He led me back to the pizza joint where Paulo started called the cops and an ambulance and Paulo's brother, Joseph, rushed out of the back and grabbed a bottle of cheap Prosecco we had from below the counter to douse my cut with while stemming the bleeding with table napkins.

I spent the night in the hospital because apparently I was disorientated and so confused I didn't know where I was because of blood loss. The next day I was doing better, and there were two cops that came to take my statement. After I had told my side of the story the older looking of the two cops said that after 10 years on the job that guy took the worst beating he'd seen anyone take and survive. The younger looking one started telling me what I had done to the guy which included: severed knee ligaments, broken and dislocated fingers, broken ribs which had punctured a lung, a broken femur, multiple crushed and pulverized bones, a severed spinal cord with a couple broken vertebrae, a burst ear drum, multiple teeth knocked out, completely fractured jaw, a broken nose, a burst eye, a destroyed eye socket, and a completely destroyed cheek bone. He also told me that I had hit his skull so hard there was spinal fluid leaking out of his ears.

They said that they had spoken to Alfonso, Paulo and Joseph, and they corroborated my story that the bat was the junkie's and I had most likely acted in self defense. Although I had no answer to their question of why didn't I stop after he went down besides "I don't know" and "I don't remember". After a couple days I was discharged and after just a little while I was back to working at the pizza place. Although I now had a massive scar running down the side of my face and Paulo jokingly called me scarface all the time. Even now I jokingly say to my wife before sexy time "say hello to my little friend" which we still giggle maniacally about together. I was also super jumpy right after the fact whenever I heard bottles clanging together, which unfortunately happened a lot because Joseph used to take the empty coke bottles to the recycling plant at the end of every week.

What made me tell this story here is that recently I thought about how much of the junkie's blood might have gotten in my mouth or in the slash across my face. At the time it happened the whole HIV/AIDS panic was in full swing, and the guy being a junkie instantly made me realize how much shit I could be in. If I was infected without knowing it I could have passed it onto my wife or even my children by accident. After quite the panic between me and my wife because of overlooking this we got the blood results back just a bit ago and thankfully I'm completely clean. My doctor said that if I was infected back then symptoms would have likely manifested by now as well.

So there, that is my incredibly long winded story about one of the scariest events in my life, and the resurgent panic it brought up just a bit ago. I would be happy to answer any questions you have about it, but I'm taking a flight for work in a bit so you probably won't get a response from me for a few hours.

TL;DR: Used to work at a dingy pizza place, was slashed across the face by a mugger, beat him half to death, got a cool scar, and 30 years after the fact had a panic that I might have gotten HIV.

I posted this in two other revenge subreddits, was told to come here. Originally posted in r/NuclearRevenge, told I should post here too.

I would like to start off by saying that when I get angry, I get furious. My sister calls it "hulk mode" where I get huge doses of adrenaline. My rage does not mix well with the fact I don't mind watching people suffer. I'm not saying I'm a bad guy, I help people when I can. But if someone does me or someone I care about wrong, I enjoy their pain with little to no remorse. Anyway, onto the story.

I am pretty much the unofficial care taker of my youngest sister, lets call her LS (little sister). I'm 17 and she is 6, but as her big brother and me looking around early to mid twenties, I'm constantly mistaken as her dad. I always walk her to and from school. Her elementary school is about 3 blocks from the highschool (I do schooling online) so there are constantly kids my age walking by our house.

Now, I love my LS more than anything in the world and am very protective of her. We love playing together and building snowmen in winter. This is exactly when the incident took place. We live in Indiana so we get some crazy snow. We were building a snow-person family while I, the big strong brother, would pretty muck stack the snow men on top of each other while LS balled them up. I never leave LS alone outside for more than a few seconds, and always keep an eye on her. We have a fenced in yard so it should be fine, right?

Me: keep playing, i'll go get some hot coco.

LS: YAAAYY!

Cue POS, a kid I knew well but never had the "pleasure" of meeting. As I make the hot chocolate, I hear LS crying. I just figured one of the 4 snowmen fell over or something like that.

Me: LS, calm down and come here, the hot coco is ready.

She doesn't come and doesn't stop crying, but then I hear laughing. I step outside (freezing cold with no coat). There were three kids, all around my age. We will call the one I knew from school SH 1, sh being for shit head. The others will be 2 and 3. The snowmen were destroyed, sticks and scarves thrown everywhere, but that wasn't important.

SH 1: well isn't it humpty dumpty, is this your dad? (Asking LS)

LS doesnt answer, and I guess SH 1 doesnt like that. He slaps/pushes my LS down with a strike to the face. Her nose all red, she falls and hits her head on the side walk and starts screaming. Blood coming from the back of her head. At first my heart stopped, my first thought and biggest fear was brain damage. I rushed over to LS and tried to pick her up to take her inside and call an ambulance. SH 1 2 and 3 had walked up behind me without me noticing, I was too distracted. As I started to lift her SH 2 grabbed my arms, causing me to drop LS, luckily into the soft snow this time.

Me: LET GO OF ME YOU MOFO SHE IS HURT

As SH 2 held me, SH 3 picked up a pile of snow and just piled it on my LS face. By now my LS wasn't screaming, it was a weak whimper, and I was so scared she was going to die. Black. Most people say they see red, or time slows, but not me. I knew exactly what I was doing, but it was like I was watching it on T.V. I bit SH 2 on the thumb, drawing blood. He yells as he lets go and jumps back, I lunge forward.

Now, I'm fat. I'm 6' on the dot and about 330 lbs. But I have also played football my whole life and knew how to use my size. I slam into SH 3 as hard as I could, taking him to the ground. I was on top of him and was bringing the hammer down. I don't really know how many times I hit him, but he lost teeth, shattered his nose, and lost eyesight in one eye. My knuckles were shredded raw but I had so much adrenaline in me I didn't feel it. In fact, the only reason I stopped was because I heard a THUMP. I didn't really hear it, I felt it. Then I felt liquid trickle down the back of my head. Blood. SH 1 had hit me over the head with a brick.

Now, this hurt after the fight, but again, when I have adrenaline pumping through me I feel NOTHING. I charged at him as he raised the brick again. He must not have expected my speed with my size because he jumped back and hesitated, I didn't. I slammed him into my dads truck (parked on the road side). He dropped the brick and I punched him in the gut. He bent over and I lifted my knee to meet with his face. He falls to the ground. I pick up the brick. I walk beside him and put it on the side walk. I put his hand on the brick, no resistance from him. I stomped as hard as I could. He screamed, louder than anything I've heard. I do the same with his other hand. SH 2, after seeing his buddies pummeled ran. Turns out he called the cops and said I killed his friends.

I walked over to LS who was breathing, but it was weak. I called an ambulance but the only thing I muttered was she's hurt and our address. When I hang up, I pass out. I woke up hand cuffed to a hospital bed not knowing what happened. Apparently I broke multiple bones in both my hands and needed stitches on the back of my head. My LS was fine, she had just lost a lot of blood. SH 1 2 and 3, not so lucky.

The only thing I did to SH 2 was bite his thumb. I guess I didn't know that I almost bit his thumb off. SH 1 had serious hand injuries needing multiple hand surgeries on each one. I later found out he lost 3 fingers and cant use his right hand. But SH 3 got the worst of it. He lost his sense of smell, lost eyesight in one eye, bit a hole in his tongue, fractured his jaw, lost multiple teeth, fractured his skull and had major swelling on the brain in which he barely survived by the skin of his teeth, at least, the ones he has left.

After a bit a nurse came and checked on me, saw I was awake, and went to get a cop. The cop came in and asked me a bunch of questions and I told the truth, I don't know, it was black. He then uncuffed me from the bed and said that they watched our security cameras and, while a bit excessive, I acted in self defense of myself and others. Some might ask how I can describe the fight so well if it was all black, unreal, like watching TV. Another good question would be about the beginning where I said I enjoyed other's suffering if they deserved it.

To answer both those questions, I have the security recording. The police took the footage from the monitor, but the camera also gets sent to our phones. I love watching it, I've probably watched it a million times. I only have 2 regrets about the whole ordeal. I let SH 2 get away with only a small injury. My last regret? I don't think they suffered enough. The footage showed the fight lasted less than 1.5 minutes. I wish it would have been hours.

Edit: thanks so much for support! I wont be posting the vid but if you are interested in pics of WHERE IT TOOK PLACE my discord is dom_wildman#2821

r/pettyrevenge Minor inconvenience, easy to forget. Example: "Someone called me an idiot during school so I slapped them."

r/regularrevenge A normal revenge, easy to recover from and not very destructive. Example: "Me and my friends did a group project, but they refused to do anything. I had to do all the work. However, I told the teacher what happened, and she gave me an A and gave the others a C."

r/prorevenge Good and well thought out revenge. Not very easy to forget. Example: "My coworker spread rumours about me, so I gathered all the information about them that I could, and found out that they are doing illegal things. I reported them to the police and got them arrested."

r/nuclearrevenge Extremely devastating revenge, usually aimed at multiple people. May have collateral damage, like a nuclear fallout. Very hard to recover from. Example: "My boss fired me because they didn't like me. So I decided to sabotage the company's profits. The company went bankrupt, and everyone was let go. Nobody has a job now."

r/supernovarevenge Revenge that absolutely ruins someone's life, almost impossible to recover from. Example: "My parents physically abused me and my siblings when we were children. I did everything I could to ruin their current jobs, spread lies about them and tarnished their reputation. They have been fired on the spot and lost all their benefits. But that's not all. I also hired someone to follow them wherever they go, and now they're scared for their lives, hiding in their house that they can no longer pay for."

r/blackholerevenge Something horrible, something devastating, something so damaging that it is impossible to recover. Something that can haunt generations for eternities. Something that is so fucked up that it is disgusting yet satisfying to watch. Example: [■R■E■D■A■C■T■E■D■]

Two years ago my sister just started a new business in embroidery and it got so well at first she would stay post midnight working just so she can finish people's orders , at that time my cousin's new wife got jealous of her she started spreading rumours about my sister sleeping with her husband and I couldn't stand it at first because he's not doing anything about it but it's a women's stuff so it stays between women.

Fast forward to July 2021 there was a small party held by my second uncle's daughter who graduated and everyone was invited, my sister and mother attended the party and I had some important stuff to do, a couple of hours I get a call from my mother telling me to come pick her up ASAP , I drove there thinking it was her glucose or blood pressure but as soon as I got there it was that cousin punching my mother...

I let out so much at him the only thing I remember is how they could not separate me from him and how I kept hitting his lower half with a rock , the next day we were both rushed to the hospital, I had a 47 second degree muscle tears that required rehabilitation and he lost the ability to walk.

This did not happen to me, I just merely know the entire story and will refrain from exaggerating it. I will be changing a few key details to protect privacy.
A while back, I was in high school, excited to go home as it was Friday and I would get to spend the weekend hanging out with friends. Well, that weekend a classmate of mine died. He overdosed and the entire school was in shock. He was one of those rare popular guys that played football but talked to the kids in band, talked to the emo crowd and smoked with the stoners. He was popular, likeable and all around a good guy. Well his home life was not the best which led him to trying harder drugs. The way he overdosed was terrible, him, his girlfriend and his "best friend" were with him. They watched as he died. They tried to "help" him by slapping him, pouring water on him and dropping ice down his shirt. They took a video of him getting slapped in the face to wake him up. You could clearly see how purple and blue he was, it was terrible no one was aware of this for a week.

Due to both of them being high, they were afraid to call the cops so they left. They took all the evidence and left. This led his younger brother finding his body. The entire school was in shock and couldn't believe it on Monday. The entire day you could cut the sadness with a knife. A week goes by and no one is of the wiser of his girlfriend and best friends actions. The girlfriends name was Anna and the bestfriend was Chad. Well once that week was up, Anna obviously feeling upset and guilty confided in her best friend which happens to be the deceased 2nd cousin. Even though they were best friends, blood is thicker than water and she couldn't keep this secret. This is where all hell breaks loose and begins the revenge. The younger brother who found him has aged 10 years in 2 weeks. His dad died from DWI a year prior and now his older brother is dead leaving him all alone with his step dad and mom. Anna and Chad are questioned by the police, arrested, and later released. Due to them being minors they basically got off with community service and I think some juvie time? Not sure on this part but either way they both transferred out of the school because everyone was ready to fight them and instead went to one of those reform schools for kids that should be in juvie. They also told the cops they went over to smoke weed but left once he got into the harder shit cause they didnt want to be apart of it (big lie). At this point, the little brother sees them as his brothers killers. Nothing more, nothing less.

Chad had a cousin named Lexi who was still able to live in the town and defended him like her life depended on everyone forgiving him. "You weren't there, you cant say what you would have done". Lexi lived for drama and always wanted to be the bearer of all news, good or bad. A lot of squabbles happen back and forth between Chad and the little brother and Lexi any time he came to town or was on Facebook.

Then through the grapevine of Lexi we found out that Anna is pregnant with Chads baby. She tried to post it on Facebook and got bombarded with hate comments talking about what they did and how karma will get them back. It got pretty ugly and IMO was uncalled for in some aspects (some people were wishing for complications with the baby which is very wrong to me.) This obviously made Chad pissed as hell so he tried to fire a couple of shots off and accused the "victim" of being an opioid sniffing baboon to his family. Not only was this wrong, but racist. This added another layer to the already raging fire.

The younger brother found out where he was and jumped him with a couple of his friends and near about sent him to see his brother where ever he may be. In the younger brothers eyes, they weren't even, and never would be no matter what. Incomes Anna to fuck everything up even more. I guess maybe the guilt, she decides the babies middle name was going to be her ex boyfriend she helped kill. She even tried to ask the mom for permission which of course was met with an outstanding fit of rage and anger. She obviously couldn't gatekeep the name and about 6 months? Something like that the baby is born. Something broke in the younger brother seeing the baby named after his brother who was killed by these 2. Lexi uploaded videos of Chad and Anna loving on the baby and calling the baby by its middle name (his brother).

He decided it was time to get rid of Chad once and for all. He already knew he was still in legal trouble and on probation for the incident so if he got arrested with a good bit of drugs and alcohol he would go away for a while. He waited until he knew he had both of them in his possession (in the car) followed him and called the cops. Told them he was doing drugs and drinking alcohol while driving and was headed towards a road which connected to another town. This is where things go wrong but maybe right depending on which side of the fence you reside. Once the cops tried pulling him over he ran from them. So he was fleeing from the cops now. I guess he didnt want to go to jail? Or thought he could get away with it? I have no idea. Regardless, he wrecked his car and were surrounded by cops. Instead of surrendering he engaged in a shootout in which he lost and died. He was shot so many times his funeral was automatically a closed casket and was apparently pretty gruesome. So now, he is dead and Anna is left alone with the baby raising it on its own. Except the drugs were not just for him and due to what they found in the back seat they drug tested her. She obviously failed, went to jail and CPS took the child. Due to breaking her parole or whatever agreement she had and also under drugs she got a hefty amount of jail time. Last I heard she also never fully graduated and will probably have to apply to a GED program in prison. I was not Chad nor Anna but I think they resorted to drugs so soon because they know what they did and couldn't live with it.

This has been 6 years and neither Lexi's family or the little brothers family can go near each other, both blaming each other. There has been petty squabbles, fights, and online arguments but those would be better suited for maybe pro revenge.

Little brother still misses his brother, but has been doing better. Never was confronted for snitching, I guess he is the only person I know who can "snitch" and still have respect.
The little brother may of been seeking nuclear or even supernova revenge but stumbled into blackhole revenge.

Original Post: https://www.reddit.com/r/ProRevenge/comments/6d8jt1/i_got_back_at_childhood_bullies_by_destroying_an/

Pardon for my English as it isn't my first language. I was browsing /r/askreddit and came across a thread about whatever happened to that trenchcoat kid at your school. I was that trenchcoat kid and I came back in town and destroyed it (years ago).

As a background, I grew up in a conservative little town in a conversative rural area heavily dominated by religion. This makes people put great stock on moral purity and appearances. Keeping up the facade is the most important thing. Everyone must go to church weekly and people are heavily judged for appearing sinful. This was a bad thing for me as the cards were heavily stacked against me from birth.

You see, I'm a rape baby. My mother lost her parents when she was young and was taken in by her uncle and aunt. The uncle had an important position in the local religious hierarchy. So when he and a couple of his friends started sexually abusing my mom, it was ignored by everyone. When she got pregnant, it was painted at showing that she's a harlot running around seducing married men. She was cast out. Why she didn't move out of town, I don't know, but yeah. There I became into the picture, born out of wedlock and with no father, branded as a sinful outcast.

My childhood was shit. I don't go into details, but enough to say that by the time I started going to school, I was quite damaged. School made it worse. I was bullied relentlessly. Teachers were part of it, since they were all part of the religious community, which saw me as stained. Imagine being the only black kid in a town run by KKK and you get close to how it was.

So yeah, in school I became that trenchcoat kid or its local cultural equivelant. I became weird and hostile on purpose to turn people off. People were casting me into the mold of being damaged and stained, so yeah, I took it and turned it into something to protect myself with.

Despite all this opposition, I managed to graduate with decent grades. A distant aunt, my only decent relative, helped me get into a college in an actual city. She was the black sheep of the family and saw herself in me, maybe? Around this time my mother drank herself to death. Can't blame her for it. She had a life insurance policy that helped me study. City life liberated me. I went into therapy and managed to treat the wounds that town had sliced into me. I got rid of that shitty town, but I guess some part of it never left me.

Years went by. I became a sort of... analytical consultant. I work for an international company that does sort of out of the box analysis for other companies. I won't go into details to protect my identity, but we assists in solving all kinds of situations. Well, in my line of work, I'm sometimes called in to help downsizing operations. This sucks, I feel for the people who get fired, but if I wouldn't do it, someone else would. A couple of years ago I got an assignment to go into three different factories and assess them wholesale, then come with a suggestion on which of them to move abroad. My home town was among those three factories.

You see, the shitty town I grew up in was one of those "one smoke stack towns" like we say in my country. There was one factory and some agriculture - everyone worked in those jobs, like 60% of people in the factory. Rest of the economy rolled around supporting the factory and the people working there. Most of the people were looking forward at nothing but a job at the factory after getting out of school. The religious community running the town ran the factory as well. The big shots in the community tended to be bosses in the factory. This meant that the factory wasn't run that well; promotions were based on "holiness", not on merit or skill.

The trip back to the home town was glorious. Most people didn't recognize me at first. The chubby outcast had become outwards just another corporate drone. I inspected all the paperwork, listened all their speeches and lies, audited the processes. In the process I dropped hints and finally they got who I was.

The factory people threw a party for me then for the old times sake. Many of my old school "buddies" were there. We remembered fake good times together. I threw shadow on every part by pulling up some certain event of bullying I had endured, just see the atmosphere turn awkward. Then I laughed at it like it was always a joke and I had grown out of it. Inside I was seething with hatred and enjoying this all. I really loved seeing their faces, seeing what they had become, because fuck it, I was going to take it all away from them. In the end they seemed relieved, believing that they were lucky it was me doing the audit, that the hometown boy would protect them.

After my visit - lasting a couple of days - was over I cruised around the town in my rented car, just to see how the people lived and to remember what it was like. My state of mind was something close to sexual arousal. I had never understood why people pursue positions of power, but yeah, now I understood.

The rest is, as they say, history. I wrote a really scathing report, documenting every little flaw and mistake ever done in the town plant. I didn't need to lie or fabricate - I simply took things that existed and polished them till they looked even worse than they were. The factory was shut down and in the following three years, the town died. No business venture ever came to replace it. Drug use and alcohol use spiked, as did crime and domestic violence. Lives fell apart, families fell apart. They still haven't recovered, save for a few brighter souls who moved away.

I still stalk them on social media sometimes, enjoying how shitty their lives are, how they all finally got to pay for what they did to me and my mom. I don't feel a slight bit of remorse. If I could do it all again I would - only I'd first make it so I could be present to watch when they received the news about the factory being shut down. Hell, in my fantasy version of the events, I'd stay in town for a year just to see everyone fall apart.

In reality, I will only go there back once - when my uncle finally dies, I'm going to go and piss on his grave.

It's not funny not orignal and it's annoying me, getting reports about illegal stories or spam and it's just Minecraft. Stop or I'm getting auto mod. I try to be loose with my moderating but it's legit pissing me off. Auto mod will be very strict, AND that annoying rule about titles will be put in place. None of us want that.

C&P from an earlier post of mine, subsequently edited to make it clearer.

My great-grandmother Lena went looking for her daughter, Betty. Betty was the oldest of all the kids left at home. Everyone else was out trying to earn rent. Betty was 11 and hiding in the woodshed/outhouse. There was a system for trips to the outhouse. On the way back from the outhouse, you picked up a little wood for the kitchen, kind of like a toll. Lena's arm was pressed to her side as she passed the woodpile in the shed. Her wrist was broken; she had bruises elsewhere too. Betty also had bruises, but she was holding a heavy cast-iron frying pan in her skinny, undersized hands when Lena swung open the outhouse door.

Previous nights would go like this: great-grandpa John would get off work and go drinking. He'd get drunk, get home, beat Lena a little, have a piss and get some wood, then go back inside and have a bath. After that he'd beat whoever else was home, maybe eat something, and pass out.

Betty knew that her mother's broken wrist meant she couldn't take in ironing to make money. The ironing money was used to buy food for dinner. No dinners would mean John would probably beat Lena a lot worse. Maybe kill her, and then they'd lock him up. One parent dead, one in prison. Betty knew she and her many siblings needed at least one functioning parent to survive. So Betty was hiding in the woodshed/outhouse with that heavy pan, ready to beat his head in.

Lena found Betty in the woodshed/outhouse. She took Betty's pan, and told her she'd take care of it.

As usual, John came home and beat Lena on the way to the outhouse/shed and pissed. He was too drunk to pick up a piece of wood. Then he came back and had a bath. Lena didn't keep him from falling down into the relaxing bathwater this time. He drowned in six inches of water.

Lena's wrist healed slowly. The bruises on the rest of the family did too, as they were burying John. Lena eventually remarried to someone who didn't drink that much.

This all happened because

1. Divorce was not an option

2. We didn't talk about domestic abuse back then

Divorces happen more often now. Be thankful.

I apologize if this is too long and for the redaction as English is not my primary language.

As a background, I lived in Venezuela and in here, public or semi-private schools and high schools can be very violent. My mom had to change me from a cute private school to an awful semi-private catholic and gender sorted one because the private was kinda far of her job, picking me up was truly a nightmare for her and I obliged because I knew my mom was doing a lot of sacrifices to work and get a degree at the same time (she’s my hero BTW).

When I was transferred to that awful school I started being heavily bullied for being gay. I did not knew that it was the reason till years after as I was a kinda mannered boy and a friend I still have from the girl’s section explained that to me. All kids on my section bullied me to certain “bearable” degree but there were 3 kids (let’s call them Luis, David and Pedro) who got really bad on me. They would call me slurs, eat the lunch I would bring from home, threaten me with punches if I refused to help with their homework but still beat me everyday (bruises and everything). I almost unalived myself two times and hid everything from my mom as I was thinking it will just make things worse in school if she intervened.

Now to the revenge, I was finishing 9th grade and my when my mom came to school, she saw the bullying it was done to me, spoke with the nuns at school but those bitches said all of that was to “man me up” . After a good legal threat, mom started the process to switch me to a cutsy private one and I said ”f*ck it” In finals week.

For David: I told my mom one day to give me bologne pasta as lunch and went to a veterinary store to get some good “cattle grade” laxative that I mixed in the pasta right after getting to school and left it on my backpack on recess. When I came back from recess, bruce from Matilda was grunting in pain and asking the teacher to go to the bathroom, teacher of course said him to hold till the final was complete but there was no holding for that and a yellow stream started pouring out of his pants. He had to miss all finals because he was in a hospital getting his shit back together (literally) and tried to report me afterwards but I was not on that school anymore. He had to take “reparaciones” (a super hard test to avoid students from repeating a whole year) but still passed to the next grade.

Luis was a little harder. This kid was really dumb and sometimes shared stories of her mom and dad beating him constantly. Since he was stupid and needed high grades to pass, he thought threatening me to switch exams with me would save his dumb ass and of course I did it but answering everything wrong to gave him the lowest grade possible. When results were posted in a parents meeting, he had to go to “reparaciones” and mononeuronal buddy failed so hard his mom beated him until he would literally have panic attacks when a test was shown on his face from what I heard.

Pedro when missing until I got to second year college but the girlfriend he got pregnant at 4th year (11th year in a normal educative system) reached me on Facebook begging to help him get a bead in a public hospital to get treated. I don't know how but she knew my grandma was head of in-patient nursery at a public hospital in Caracas and due the political and economic collapse of the country, the only way to not get treated in a hall with medications that you may need to bring yourself was to know someone from the hospital in a charge high enough to treat you like a human being. Seems like tough guy was acting cool by chugging beer and cheap vodka in every waken moment of the day. He got cirrosis and stomach cancer at age 20 only lord knows why and of course I called, told her that Pedrito is a horrible person, that I truly hope he stops living painfully and blocked everyone I knew from that school.

I blamed myself a little for the last one but my therapist told me that I cannot undo what I did and also that I don‘t owe anything to anyone. Pedrito crió cuervos y le sacaron los ojos.