To me, he was everything I never thought existed. To him, I was...a game. I think a part of me knew it all along, but he was everything I wanted so I ignored that niggling little hunch...my mistake. After eight months together, it was well and truly over. It shattered me...he had all of me, my heart and love...my only satisfaction was that my religion had me keeping my body for marriage...he never got so much as nude photos.

I was a wreck for about a year.

Before I go any further, you need to know about my younger sister, Splash. She's changed over the past two years, just like me, but at the time, she was...not very sympathetic. She'd known better all along, and I refused to listen, so in her eyes, I had it coming. She only said "I told you so" a couple of times, though, while I was still eating my heart out over him. But while she couldn't identify with my heartbreak, she was - still is - very protective.

Next you need to know about our best friend, Pebbles. She's the kind of girl that leaves her mark on every life she touches - either she traumatizes you, or you get one heck of a joyride. There is no in-between.

Rewind again. I was eating my heart out over him for about six months...listening to Taylor Swift all day, every day...even considering going back to him...that was, until I found out he was kissing new girls the day after. You could say he had commitment issues...so even after I was over him, I remained in deep depression for another eight months...all my positive emotions sediment on the bottom of the stagnant pond that was my soul. Then, I began talking to my sister's best friend.

In one month, she'd drop-kicked the dam of depression that was keeping me trapped, and thrown several tons of waterproof explosive into my sluggish puddle of emotion. Three months later, I was smiling and laughing again. Another two months, and almost everything I said was some kind of joke (usually dirty, and always hokey,) unless I'd had a particularly bad day. The relationship between myself and my sister improved - no, we didn't get along all the time, but it was so much better than it had been for the previous year - and then...ah, then.

Then, it was time for revenge.

Ever watched Taylor Swift's Picture to Burn video? Or Carrie Underwood's Before He Cheats? Well, we made them look like novices. Sheer beginners.

For instance, he didn't have the sense to invest in a locking gas cap for his pretty little red Mustang. He should've known better...a bag of sugar is not that expensive...

His next appallingly simpleminded mistake was keeping his spare key in the most common place. Seriously...he might've been brilliant with technology, but he was ludicrously foolish in other areas. While my sister distracted him in the park, engaging him in a furious rant (the bloody idiot had always found my sister's hatred of him amusing...his mistake,) Pebbles and I retrieved his key from the ornamental mailbox hanging beside his door and broke into his house.

Our first target was his computer, and the encryption was ridiculously easy to crack (when it says street where you used to live, that's what they mean - not your current address, bimbo.) We deleted all his bookmarks, and I used the handy-dandy online Pixlr photo editor to edit every. single. one. of his pictures, and not necessarily in a good way. We also deleted several - and then cleared his Recycle Bin. During our search, we discovered he still had plenty of pictures of my sister, and none of me. I'd always known he had a thing for her, but this was...ridiculous. We edited some and deleted the rest.

The last two things we did before turning his laptop off was to change his wallpaper to a black background with a giant grinning skull centered, and changing his login password. Then I unscrewed the bottom, took out two screws to some random component, shoved wires over the loose area, and put the bottom back on. Then Pebbles and I hightailed it before he got bored being insulted and returned home.


When we all met up at the corner coffee shop for some celebratory doughnuts, Splash gleefully informed us that he had an all-night party the following evening. I had ensured that he'd be taking his laptop to a computer repairman to be seen, and it was unlikely he'd miss this party. The opportunity was too good to be missed.

I won't go into details of what all we did to his house that night, but let's just say, we made Taylor Swift's team look tame.


"Can we, in fact, pretend that she is anything other than a woman scorned, like which fury Hell hath no?" - Captain Jack Sparrow, At World's End


Setting the records straight: this is only semi-autobiographical. My sister, while she didn't really understand my heartache, always loaned me a shoulder to cry on, and we haven't actually destroyed his house or car (having an ocean between us might have something to do with it)...yet.