"I beg you... stop... I can't take it anymore," Anton gasped, lying helpless on the cold floor. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his eyes pleading for mercy that would never come. His body was covered in wounds, the result of an endless barrage of blows. Above him stood Maya—a woman who no longer resembled a human in his eyes, but a figure filled with hatred and revenge.
Maya, her gaze sharp and almost empty, pressed her foot onto Anton's chest. His ragged breathing sounded like music to her ears. In her hand, she tightly gripped a rough wooden stick, a symbol of vengeance ready to punish the sins of the past.
"Why? Does it hurt?" Maya mocked coldly, her lips curling into a terrifying, crooked smile. "That's what my daughter felt when you treated her like an animal."
Anton wept in belated guilt, his body trembling as he tried to speak. "I... I... I regret it... please... forgive me..."
"Forgive?" Maya let out a dry laugh, as if hearing the most disgusting joke. "How easy for you to ask for forgiveness now. Do you think a mere apology will make everything go back to the way it was?" Her face grew darker, and without warning, the wooden stick struck Anton's body with force.
"Ahh!!" Anton screamed, trying to shield his body with his hands, but it was futile. Blow after blow rained down on him. The pain was real, but what hurt more was the realization that this time, no one would save him.
"Please... stop..." Anton sobbed, attempting to block the hits, though his hands were weak and powerless.
"No! I will never stop!" Maya screamed, her voice echoing through the silent room. "You have to feel what my daughter felt! You must endure the same pain when you hurt her!"
Anton's body was now almost entirely covered in blood, his breath shallow, and every movement seemed filled with difficulty. He knew this was the end. But even in his suffering, the most crushing thing was the cold look in Maya's eyes—the look of a mother who had lost everything.
Maya leaned in close, their faces just inches apart. Her eyes bore into Anton's with pure hatred, filled with an unquenchable rage. "Why are you silent, Anton? Where is the man who was so strong before? Where is the man who cruelly took turns raping my daughter, destroying her along with your friends? Where is the man who laughed while watching her suffer?"
Anton sobbed, his body trembling. "Sorry... I... I regret it..." his voice barely audible, drowned in weakness.
"Too late. Your apology means nothing now! Your apology won't bring Aisha back!" Maya's eyes welled up, not with tenderness but with a pain that had turned into hatred. "Save your apology. You can apologize to her yourself... when you meet in the afterlife."
Maya raised the wooden stick high, her trembling hand gripping it tightly, but her gaze remained steady. Anton looked at her with a face full of fear, his mouth open as if to scream, but no words came out.
"Don't...!" Anton's final scream echoed through the room.
Too late. With a single, brutal swing, the stick struck Anton's head. The horrifying sound of cracking filled the air, and in an instant, Anton's world sank into eternal darkness.
Maya's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly after releasing the fury and revenge she'd harbored for years. The wooden plank that she had gripped so tightly fell from her hands, hitting the cold, dusty concrete floor with a thud. Her body began to weaken, and she collapsed to her knees beside Anton's lifeless body.
Tears she had held back for so long finally spilled over. She cried, sobbing, her shoulders shaking with the weight of it all. Her hands trembled as she covered her face, her voice breaking between sobs. "You... you made me do this," Maya whispered hoarsely between her tears. "You turned me into a monster..."
She remained still for a long time, letting the tears flow without end. Her hands roughly wiped her face, trying to erase the traces of the tears that kept falling. But beneath the devastation in her heart, there was a strange satisfaction. A bitter sense of relief.
Maya looked at Anton's unmoving body. "I don't regret doing this," her voice was quiet, but laden with conviction. "You all deserved it. This... this was meant to happen."
After taking a deep breath, Maya forced herself to stand. Her body felt exhausted, but her mind was resolute. With heavy steps, she began to walk away from the old warehouse—the place where her vengeance had been fully realized. The cold and gloomy room now stood as a silent witness to the destruction of two souls.
As Maya stepped outside, the night air brushed her tear-stained face. It was biting cold, though not as cold as the heart that had been deeply scarred by hatred. Slowly, she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind the bitter memories and sins that could never be erased.
The night was cold and silent, only Maya's footsteps echoing in the deserted streets after leaving the old warehouse, the witness of her revenge. Her body was tired, but her eyes still burned with a fire that refused to die out. Above her, the sky was dark, as if it too was shrouding the hatred smoldering inside her. However, her steps suddenly halted as a voice broke the silence.
"Maya..."
She knew that voice. No need to turn around to identify its owner. That man, Davis, had been a shadow in her life since the death of her daughter. But this time, Maya didn't want to hear any advice. Still standing tall, she didn't move, nor did she turn.
"If you're here just to tell me to stop..." Maya's voice was flat, but sharp as a blade. "It's useless. I won't stop, Davis. So save your words."
Davis's voice was heavy, but not what Maya expected. "I won't tell you to stop, Maya."
Maya was momentarily surprised, her lips trembling, but she still didn't move. "Then why are you here?" Maya asked, her voice slightly weaker, reflecting her confusion.
"I just want to know one thing, Maya," Davis said, slowly approaching. His footsteps were calm, unhurried. "How do you feel now, after avenging one of the men who raped and killed your daughter Aisha?"
Maya bit her lip, tasting the bitterness that wouldn't fade, even after Anton's blood dried on her hands. Her fists clenched at her sides, and for the first time, she felt a slight tremor there. "How do I feel?" she repeated the question in a cold voice, almost echoing. Then, she let out a small laugh, hollow and empty. "I don't feel satisfied, Davis. I will never feel satisfied... until everyone involved in my daughter's murder pays the price."
Davis stopped a few steps behind Maya, looking at her back with a gaze full of complexity. There was restrained sympathy, but also helplessness. He sighed deeply, realizing that nothing he said would change anything. "Maya...," Davis spoke more softly now, almost like a whisper. "Who's your next target?"
Maya remained silent, not answering immediately. But slowly, a smile crept across her lips—a chilling smile, full of malice. She turned slightly, just enough for Davis to see the cruel curve of her lips.
"Tony..." she whispered, the name leaving her lips like poison long stored in her heart. "He's my next target."