Vengeance So Sweet

Cynthia's Point of View

"I'm not going to tolerate all that nonsense from your family; you better warn them," I said calmly as I walked beside Ethan, who nonchalantly shrugged, unaffected by the situation.

"My grandpa is happy, and that's all that matters. I don't care about the rest," Ethan said calmly, his tone dripping with sarcasm, cutting me down.

A snort escaped my lips incredulously at his nonchalance. "Well then, you have been warned. Don't blame me for what I will do later," I said calmly. As we reached his room, he pushed the door open, and I walked in with him following behind me.

The room was neatly arranged with everything in place, totally the opposite of how my room used to look. I can proudly say that I was the most untidy woman I've ever met. I can't even hold a spoon and make a simple dish like eggs. I grew up with a lot of maids at home, and they did everything, including making my bed. When I started working, I became even worse. The only thing on my mind was work, work, work.

"I'm not sleeping on the couch," I said calmly as I walked over to the couch and sat down. Ethan sat on the bed elegantly, his gaze lazily on mine.

"This is my room, and you are not making any rules here," Ethan said calmly. I locked my gaze with him, a daring smirk stretching across my lips.

"I can, and I just did. Find yourself another place to sleep," I retorted sternly, glaring at him. His lips curled up into a sly smirk, but he didn't say anything.

He rose off the bed and walked over to the drawer, bringing out a file. He then walked over to the couch and threw it on the coffee table. My brows furrowed as I took the paper and started going through them.

"This file contains all the evidence you need against Victor and Amanda in case you want them arrested and all the names and addresses of the guy who took advantage of you," Ethan said calmly, but the coldness was still there.

"I don't know if I can ever thank you enough for what you've done for me. I owe you my whole life," I said calmly as I looked at the paper. A gasp escaped my lips as I looked at the first man's picture. My breath got caught in my throat, a cold chill ran down my spine, and my hands began to tremble. My whole body quivered in dread.

All the memories of that night started replaying in my mind like a horror movie. The papers in my hands fell to the ground as my hands moved to my ears, trying to shut out the sounds of their laughter. I could feel the grip of their hands on mine as they had their way with me, taking turns, laughing, enjoying the echoes of my misery, desperation, and cries.

Everything felt like it was happening once again like they were doing it to me right at that moment. A sense of impending doom settled in, a scream lodged in my throat, hot tears streaming down my face. When my mind couldn't take it anymore, I fell to the ground, and everything turned black. I could hear the faint sound of Ethan calling out to me until I couldn't hear anything.

Ethan's Point of View

A lump formed in my throat as I watched Cynthia lying on the hospital bed, her eyes closed and tears streaming down her face even though she was unconscious. I had never felt so sorry for anyone in my life as I did for her. She had been betrayed in the worst possible way, and her heart had turned dark and cold. I could see that she couldn't even force a smile on my grandpa. I felt a strong urge to protect her and keep her to myself, perhaps out of pity for her.

I quickly stood up from the chair when I heard footsteps approaching, and the doctor entered the ward.

"What happened to her, doctor? I thought you said she was fine now, so why is she unconscious?" I questioned, giving her a stern look.

The doctor let out a deep sigh. "She was mentally, physically, emotionally, and sexually abused, and as a result, she has suffered a panic attack. This only happens when she sees the person who did this to her. Her brain's fear center has become overwhelmed, leading to dissociation. I suggest you take her to a therapist or someone she can open up to about the whole thing and find a way to move on with her life, or else this will keep happening to her," the doctor's words echoed in my ears.

The only way she could move on was through revenge. Her heart was filled with nothing but vengeance, anger, and pain, and revenge seemed to be the only solution for her to move forward.

"For now, please try to keep her away from the people who have harmed her. She needs time to recover emotionally and physically because right now, she is mentally unstable. She might harm herself trying to alleviate the pain," the doctor said calmly, a pang of sorrow piercing through my chest.

No one deserves this. I wished I could do something to help her, but I knew it was not my place to interfere in her personal life. This was her battle, and she had to fight it alone. I would simply pave the way for her and make it easier.

I didn't know why I felt compelled to help her, but I knew it was out of pity. "Is there a way... you know... a way I could help her?" I asked, my instincts urging me to do something to assist her in overcoming this trauma.

"Well, taking her to a therapist would be the best option. But before that, provide a safe environment and make her feel secure so she doesn't have to live in fear. Right now, she needs a friend, someone who can reassure her that she is safe. Try to distract her mind and engage in activities that bring her joy. Perhaps she can forget the past and move forward," the doctor suggested calmly. I took a deep breath, running my hands through my hair.

It seemed like an impossible task. How could I make someone happy when I didn't even know what happiness was? I decided to take her to a therapist in the hopes that she would receive the help she needed.