Divine Retribution

The word of the week is BEAT for the six-sentence challenge by Girlontheedge. Today we follow the continuing story of Lottie, who has stopped trying to repent for her sins. This is going to go as dark as you may think, and I suggest you read the tags if you have triggers because they abound in this one. It works as a standalone, but you might want to go back to the beginning of Lottie’s story if you haven’t read it: Part One


The beat of Lottie’s heart in her ears almost drowned out the jeers of her classmates as she left the school for the last time.

All she had wanted was a friend, just one person not to make fun of her, and they had hurt her for it, made her suffer in ways no girl should be made to suffer.

Limping in from the football field after that lunch three weeks prior had been the tipping point, that moment where this went from possible to inevitable, and when the stick turned pink, she knew their days were numbered.

She pulled the supplies out of her locker, the chains for the doors, the gasoline, the matches, and she started her mission.

The halls were deserted, and there was no one there to ask questions as she walked down the hallways, a jerry can in each hand, chain draped around her like the parody of a necklace, accelerant pouring onto the floors. 

When the doors were sealed, it only took her a single match to light the thing up, though she made sure to use another at the other side, just in case, and she walked away from the screaming of her tormentors, never once looking back to see the vengeance she had wrought.

Vindicta

This incredibly dark little monster was inspired by the six sentence word prompt ingredient by girlontheedge. I immediately went to potion, but I don’t know when it went from potion to this little fic of revenge that is disturbing even to me….


The thorns dug into the soft flesh of her palm as she squeezed the stem of the rose, the final ingredient, a little too hard as she tried to decide if she was really going to do this.

It was overkill on her part, and she knew it, but the memory of his face as he mocked her in front of the crowd of onlookers, pretending as if their relationship had meant nothing to him, that she was just another notch in his bed post, it still made her blood boil.

She tossed the rose into the cauldron, regretting it even as she let it go, but it was too late now, the potion was made, and a small smirk crossed her face as the rising vapour turned to a thick cloud, forming shapes, sharp teeth and claws in the shadows before they skittered out the window.

There was no use in regret, it would change nothing, and James had made his bed, that bright sunny afternoon in the quad when he called her a-, well, he was not undeserving in this.

It wasn’t her fault, as she had learned far too late that with James, even saying no wouldn’t have stopped him, and if what the others had said was true, he was far worse when you didn’t go along with him.

She was pulled from her musings by the sounds of sirens, red lights flashing into the otherwise dark room, and she knew it was over, she wasn’t his first, but she had made sure, she would be his last.