It is ready.


Every bomb is in place, one for each tear that rolls down my face. I touch the scar on my chest, just under my heart. An inch higher and they would have killed me. The wound was sealed and gone, but the scar remains. I still remember the pain, the fear, the helplessness that engulfed me every time they approached; whip in hand, malice in eyes.


The first time, I was 1 year, 9 months and 26 days old. I had watched them approach, and smiled. They smiled too. My child's brain could not recognize the difference between a smile and a smirk. Cruel hands grabbed me and ripped off my clothes. I screamed for the first time. A jagged piece of wire struck my bare skin. I felt pain for the first time. It struck again, and again, as I fought to hold back the tears. I understood the hate of the world for the first time.


They are ready.


Every slave stands in position, one for each drop of my blood that was drawn, some splattering on the walls, some dripping onto the concrete beneath my shaking body. I know that that is what will happen to all humans, to all homo sapiens, the wretched species that has shown no good to me. 'Good' is a concept I do not understand. It's a concept I believe does not exist. It's something that I never have, and never will, experience.


They think that they're good. Yes, they say, we will donate money to those in need! Yes, they say, we will rescue animals and save the planet! Yes, they say, we will accept everyone as equals! But I know. I hear the last dying words of the ones that starved, I smell the smoke of the fires that burn down every species one by one, and most of all I feel the whip that haunts every slave's nightmares because no one has felt the pain that I have. All these things I see, and these things that I see, they prove to me that yes, humans should die, and when they die, only then will I be satisfied. They chose to take my blood. For that, I will take their life.


I am ready.


Just one finger is extended, poised over the button that will see to the world's demise, one finger for the one person in this world who will survive this. My eyes flicker back to the computer screen. I see my detailed picture of the lights exploding in a beautiful pattern of destruction over the entire world. Just underneath is the program that counts the years I spent being abused, the unbearable months I spent lying on the ground screaming, the painful days I spent waiting for someone, anyone, to show me that I deserve to live, that they deserve to live.


It never happened.


Calm, collected and deadly, my finger descends.

My vengeance will live.

The End

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