 If you wonder what it would be like if your worst enemy went back in time to raise you, you'd understand my life. If you like true revenge stories, you found the best place for your vengeful needs. The mother-child relationship is considered to be one of the strongest, and natural unconditional loving bonds in humanity. Unfortunately, there are mothers who feel pure hatred for children, and abuse them. So much so, that the need for vengeance arises in the child. In this episode, we start off with a brutal revenge story about an evil abusive mother, who reigns terror on her child for most of his life, resulting in the child going all nuclear, when fueling her nightmare into reality. Followed by an unbelievable story about a mentally unstable mother, pushing a child of a bridge, losing control over herself while entering a rage, which ends in a gun being fired. Lastly, the most intense for last. Diabolical mother is responsible for murdering her son, resulting in a hundred eyes sending unrelenting anger into her very soul, as they outraged over the merciless crime she committed. If you are easily offended or creeped out, join the frighten like button and skip the last one. Let's dive in. Naturally, viewer discretion is advised. These revenge acts might be disturbing to snowflakes. After almost 25 years of violent abuse by my mother, I finally got the kind of revenge I've always dreamed about as a kid. I was a kid going through the worst of it, but it didn't make me feel the way I expected. I'm sorry for the people who suggested I take the high road, I didn't. You were all right, it didn't make me feel better. I know the deliberate steps I took to purposely ruin my mother's life makes me a bad person. I'm willing to accept that and I'm going to continue trying to become the person I believe I can be. I'm not sorry. Lastly, if my sister ever reads this, I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother. Growing up with my mother was worse than hell. If you've ever wondered what it would be like if your worst enemy went back in time to raise you, you'd understand my life. At some point when I was around 10, I began to realize how alone I was and how exhausting my life would turn out to be. I kept hoping this time she'd finally just continue wailing on me. Hoping she'd just never stop beating me and finish the job. Either that, or I'd be so close to death she'd be forced to take me to the hospital where they would question her and I'd somehow be saved. It seemed like nobody ever cared enough to look deeper. She dislocated my shoulder with a cast iron pipe, beating me every night until I ate things I was slightly allergic to and then beating me more for throwing it up. She lit the Christmas presents I got and would then be held back by her boyfriend at the time, because she was holding a knife to my neck, telling me for the millionth time that I was worth less than my father, and nobody else would care if she did it. I could fill pages with all the things she did to me. I remember when she really started digging in and telling me I was worthless nearly every day. I was 13 and it was the first time I started contemplating suicide, though I was always too weak to follow through. My mother tried to kill me three or four times, if you count a half-assed poisoning. I say half-assed only because I vaguely remember the details, but it involved her forcing me to drink something with bleach in it. It's kind of funny in a sick way, because I didn't even remember that until now and that's not as bad as all the things I've put a lot of effort into not remembering. I just have crappy memory, so I guess it helps. I don't think I've actually went longer than a few weeks without getting beaten bloody over something trivial, like not washing dishes fast enough or walking away too hard after just getting beat up by her. Years of physical and psychological attacks. Did I call the cops? Of course I did. Can you imagine how hard it was to watch my mother smile and lie to the cops? Telling them I was exaggerating? Then having to watch them get into their cars and drive away, knowing I had to go back inside. In the beginning I had hoped things would change, towards my teen years I started drinking and stopped caring, and now here I am after all of it, somehow still alive. My stepdad used to tell me years after his divorce with my mother, that he only stayed with her because he was afraid she'd kill me one day. He's lucky he never saw how much worse it got when he wasn't there to take the hits for me anymore. It would break his heart. He was also the one who told me about my mother being sexually abused while growing up, which helped me to gain some perspective in my teens. Not that it made a difference by then. It didn't matter to me, because each and every day she had a choice and she'd choose to hurt me. Maybe I'm overstating things considering she didn't actually kill me, even though she has come close many times. Maybe that means deep down she secretly cared about me or something? I don't know, I don't think about it. She did go out of her way to buy me new electronics often, but she'd end up using those as leverage against me and invading my privacy constantly. After everything and all the time she kicked me out from 13 to 17 years old, I was always on edge. She told me when I was 18, while I was staying with my aunt, that if I went to college, I'd always have a place to live. I don't know why I believed her. I went to go stay with my aunt temporarily for 4-6 months after my mother kicked me out of the house at 17, but my mother would always stop by and buy groceries for me or leave me cash. She was unnaturally kind to me while I was there. By this point she wasn't hitting me anymore and since I was never really around her anymore, life seemed to get easier. My mother had learned more than enough ways to freak with me without touching me. It seemed like she hated me more than I hated myself at times. My aunt couldn't have me stay with her anymore as she really liked her privacy, I had already been there for a while, and I was a emotionally damaged and rebellious teenager she didn't have time to help. So, I went back to my mother's house for the last time and started attending community college full-time. I didn't really have any desire or passion, I was just an empty husk going through the motions, but I was still trying my best to keep living even when I didn't feel the will, in the hopes that one day I'd feel something different for once. My mother, of course, decided to go back to her old habits. Things like dumping all the trash with dirty diapers and old food or dirty dishes filled with water on my bed when I forgot to do them, sometimes even just because she was in a bad mood. Locking me out in the snow for hours, because I didn't respond to a text or something even if I had class in a few hours. I wasn't even allowed to have keys. She'd pretend not to hear me when I rang the doorbell or knocked for hours. She'd also tell my younger sister to ignore it. I'd eventually end up having to sleep on the steps outside or at a friend's house and get punished for doing it even, because it was her house and her rules. It was always non-stop. I had no real direction and I honestly had no plans to exist past 25. Despite literally all of that and then some, I was doing well in school community college. I finally left my mother's house for the last time a few days before finals week. I came home from drinking with friends and was met with my mother glaring at me when I rang the bell at 9 p.m., yelling when I'd move out as soon as I walked in. She followed me to my little closet of a bedroom, where I tried to close the door behind me and she half-ripped the door off the hinges. I just sat there on my bed and stared at her silently as she kept cursing and screaming questions at me. My mother proceeded to walk away and as I'm in the kitchen getting juice, I hear her on the phone calling the cops on me, claiming she was scared I'd murder her or my younger siblings. I just didn't have the energy to deal with this. This was three days before I failed all of my finals, because I couldn't even make it. I was dealing with too much. So, I went and grabbed whatever I had and left 15 minutes later. My mother and I only ever really communicated via email after this, though it was very rarely and it was very businesslike. I'd tell her what I needed and she'd either tell me to frick off or give it to me. It was hard to maintain consistency in my life then. I was at rock bottom all the time. I didn't care about anything, I drank every day, hung out with the worst kind of people who brought out the worst in me. I bounced between cheap rooms and couches. It was early 2016 when I discovered photography and it completely changed the direction of my life. I didn't hang out with anyone or bother trying to maintain all the pointless relationships, I just dove headfirst into it. I was able to put the things I didn't understand about myself into perspective. For the first time in my life, I felt something. Not just a plain feeling, more like a sense of possibility. For the first time, I was seriously wondering just what I could be capable of. I had something to look forward to. I felt like if I pushed myself as hard as possible, I'd be good at something and I'd be a good person. So I isolated myself from nearly everyone I knew and spent every single day learning and practicing while aiming to get good results. Even though I was drinking heavily, I always held a job and kept doing photo shoots and kept practicing like mad. I eventually got my first apartment and was functional for a year. Did I have my stuff together? Not yet for sure, but I was figuring it out. Then something changed, life happened and I got mugged by a friend while being passed out. He robbed me of two months rent and also took my camera gear. This led me to missing my rent payment, resulting in losing the apartment and my job. Coincidentally this was followed by an email from my mother, asking how I've been. We ended up talking on the phone and it was civil for like three minutes before I mentioned how hard things have really been for me. She was bragging about some new expensive speaker system she bought and like a dumbass, I asked her for about $100. I told her that if I could give my landlord anything, he'd be reasonable and give me time to get more cash together and I'd be fine. This obviously did not go well at all. It all escalates to her literally laughing and then telling me it was my own fault for being homeless. She also completely denied ever abusing me when I stated I was in the situation because of her. I then hung up on her. My thoughts were all over the place and I felt this intense anger and even more frustration. Within a few moments my head cleared and I had decided. I decided that I was going to completely ruin my mother's freaking life no matter what. And so I did. I called CPS on her and informed them of my history of abuse at her hands. I informed them about the dozens upon dozens of old photos I have of myself all bloody and bruised up. I previously compiled as much evidence as possible in my teens, though never did anything with it until that point. That sparked a visit, which led to an emergency removal of my three younger siblings when they caught my mother punishing my little sister, coincidentally when they happened to do a visit. My mother was also arrested but released hours later. I reached out to the job she got years ago. I remembered she made me write a fake resume for her, so I made them aware of her falsehoods. Because of her field, it was properly looked into and she was fired as well as blacklisted. She lost her $80,000 yearly salary. I also remembered she would make me responsible for making her emails. I also knew she never changed her passwords, so I proceeded to delete every email in all of the email accounts. Afterwards, I deleted the email accounts themselves. Within a few weeks things were definitely going downhill for her. My youngest sister's dad was engaged to my mother and is now to filing for sole custody of my little sister, who's in CPS custody. I'm sure he wasn't happy finding out what his baby daughter has in store if my mother was given free reign. She's missed her court appointments and I know she hasn't been able to pay her mortgage since last year, as I've heard she had to ask one of her friends for money. Her life had become a creamy messy doodoo symphony and I was the fecal splattered conductor. It was all going to doodoo. She went radio silent for months and had a warrant after missing another court date. This was all during fall and winter of last year, it seemed she was off the grid so I went on with my life. Early 2019 I get a random call from her and find out she went to her home country months ago. She went there straight after everything went bananas. How she was allowed on a plane? I truly have no clue. So it could have been another geyser of bull crap spewing from my mother's mouth. She's telling me I need to tell CPS she's a good mom and that she's never abused them or me. It's unbelievable. So I cut her off and I shut her up. I was a little buzzed when she had called and had always mentally prepared for this moment. I started slowly telling her in graphic detail about all the gross stuff I used to do to her food, because frick it. I told her that whenever she forced me to make her a fresh lipped an iced tea, while I wasn't allowed to make one for myself, I would add urine for extra flavor. I told her how I'd secretly sabotage her utensils with my bubble butt cheeks before serving her food. She was quiet at first, but then began cursing me out, though it didn't bother me. I'm on a roll and I wasn't listening. Her words didn't matter to me anymore. She's blaming me for her life turning out so terribly, while fully unaware of how true that statement is in terms of the situation she was currently in. She shuts up long enough for me to get one more word and before hanging up and blocking her number. I thought that was the end of it. My aunt and I recently reconnected about two months ago. Prior to last month, I haven't seen her in years. We met up and had a long conversation about life and everything and then she admitted that she talks to my mother nearly every day. She had mentioned all the things happening to my mother, but didn't know it was me who started this all. She actually felt really bad for my mother, but my aunt was always a really caring person, so I understand. I told her I was very uncomfortable with the thought of her talking about me to my mother and asked her not to. My aunt did it anyways. After meeting up with my aunt, I learned through her that my mother was finally coming back to America. She was arriving at the airport in one week. The problem was that my aunt told her that I was going with her, so the three of us could all talk without telling me first. I didn't know what the feeling of betrayal really felt like until my aunt told me that. To be honest, as wrong as it sounds, I'd rather my mother just think I died or something after our phone call. But my aunt kept insisting that I had to give my mother another chance, that I had to learn to be open-minded and that though she wasn't there all the times, my mom did horrible crap to me. She loved us both and wanted us to get along. Like I'm supposed to just get along with someone who has tried to murder me? Like my mother has choked me awake for school. If you don't know what it's like to forcefully wake up, not being able to breathe and seeing your own mother standing over you, at 5 AM angrily and tightly gripping your throat, count yourself lucky. As I said at the beginning of my story, I've already resolved myself to being a bad person and so I lied to one of the only people who was kind to me. I promised my aunt I'd try to have a heart-to-heart with my mom and her, and talk out the nearly 20 years of abuse. Obviously that was not happening. When we got off the phone, I called the detectives who gave me their number months back, in case I heard from my mother. I asked them a few leading questions about what would happen if so and so were discovered, and then I made my plan. How she was able to travel to a different country with a warrant, I didn't know at that time. So I wasn't sure if my mother would make it past customs. I just accept it as a fact that it's simply my evil mother, she's a horrible person but she's also good at what she does, which is being horrible. But if she did, I'd call the police in the bathroom and wait for them to arrive while I sat with my mother. I digress, my mother calls my aunt when she's getting off the plane and my aunt says she's going to meet her. I told my aunt I'd wait for them in the little Starbucks and then we'd all drive somewhere else. My aunt agreed and went off. I called the detective and told him that my mother was standing a few feet away from me and if they could meet me at our destination we were going to. They told me that was unnecessary and that they'd have officers closer to me, they would come and apprehend her at the airport instead. And so I waited and waited. And then I finally saw them arriving both at the same time. The four officers who had convened in those few passing minutes and actively searching around the food court I sat close to. My mother and my aunt walking down the gate towards me. I felt this overwhelming weight in my chest, just kind of settling down deeper and deeper into my gut the closer they got and the more the officers searched. What if they stopped looking when my mother arrived? What if my mother somehow got away with this again? Countless thoughts, but I just bit them back. I've grown very talented at silencing whatever my inner turmoil of the day happened to be. But my mother and my aunt were animatedly talking as they made their way to where I was sitting. Before they had a chance to say anything, I quickly jumped up and said, I ordered some teas, let me go see if they're ready. Which was the first thing I could think of as they were going to sit down, but it worked and I dashed off past the cash register of the Starbucks and to the outer part of the food court. Looking back, saying I had to go grab some tea probably wasn't the best thing to say but I digress. I made it a few feet out the door and half jogged over to the officers who were still looking around the food court area. From where they were, they wouldn't have seen us sitting. I walked over and asked them if they had gotten a call about a woman who had a warrant out for her arrest. I mentioned that I spoke to the detectives and made sure these officers were looking for her. They confirmed this and I explained it was my mother. I told them her first name and they verified her last name. I told them she was sitting the Starbucks waiting for jail and one of the cops chuckled. Seemed a bit surprised and judged that I was pointing them right to my mom. I told them I'd go make sure she didn't leave and they followed me behind by like 10 paces. I half jogged back inside and up to the little table where they were sitting. I remember my mom just sitting there, unknowing of what was coming. While they saw me approaching out of nowhere, my mom would look at me with her annoyed expression she always wore whenever she looked at me. My aunt started by asking where the drinks were before I cut her off immediately. I looked dead at my mother and her scowling face, which had quickly changed into confusion when I had finished my sentence. Mom, I know we don't get along, but I wanted to let you know it's all my fault. Cue my mother starting to ask me with this kind of soft motherly voice, what do you mean, it's your fault? Why do you think? But of course I cut her off, because there's nothing she hates more than being cut off and I finally have the power in this situation. Look, skank, I want you to know exactly who's fault it is, and whose piss you drank when you're rotting in jail wondering why the world did you so wrong. She sputtered something and started to slap me. My aunt's jaw dropped. People are watching. The cops saw it happen as well, as only a few seconds had passed from when I walked in. Into handcuffs she goes. Now she's showing her true colors. Cursing and saying all kinds of things you couldn't imagine a mom saying to her kid, telling me she'd freaking destroy me and so on. I calmly walked behind them as long as I could, until they took her to some room and held her until the detective arrived. I wasn't there that long though, as the thrill of it all got to me and I went home to break a two month sober streak. I was there long enough for my aunt to tell me she was disappointed in me and that she doesn't know if she can forgive me, for doing something so spiteful and disgusting to her sister. To be fair, I did it completely out of spite so she isn't wrong. I've already acknowledged I'm not a good person for what I did. Come to find out, my mother was using my aunt's passport to leave and come back to the country multiple times since she left. That's why they never caught her. Now my aunt has some explaining to do, but I wish she didn't have to get caught up in all of this. She has always been kind to me and doesn't deserve it. My mother is facing up to 10 years just for using my aunt's passport alone on a slew of other charges, including one for child endangerment. Her husband left her. Her kids were taken from her. Her friends have seemingly distanced themselves from her from what I know. After 19 years of abuse, I finally get my revenge and none of the charges have anything to do with me, which is interesting. Did it feel good? No, I felt nothing. Just the rise and fall of the situation but nothing really specific. I expected to feel something. Not even satisfaction or happiness but something. Either way, the only thing for me to do is continue to work towards becoming the person I want to be. She told me constantly that I was worthless and that I'm nothing. I've told myself the same consistently as well in the past. I've decided I'm going to become one of the greatest photographers of my time and I'm going to push myself as hard as possible to succeed. So that anyone else who has ever suffered how I have, now have no reason to doubt themselves or their ability to be great one day. As for me right now, I currently live in a homeless shelter. I decided to go to one six months ago, after realizing all the drinking and inconsistencies was making it hard for me to move forward. I've been aggressively saving my small checks. In the next two months I can find a bedroom or a studio apartment. I'll also be going back to school in the fall and pursuing photography. I don't make much right now and I know many people will say it's a stupid dream, but I know if I put all of effort into making this work, I can not only be a self-sustaining photographer, but more than that. It's not some dream, it's a plan. As for my siblings, that situation is still a bit dicey and I don't think I'll give an update about that, but they're all doing very well. As far as my mother is concerned, as horrible as she was towards me the only part of me that even thinks about her on rare occasions hope she isn't having a too horrible time. I don't like knowing people are hurting. I've been hearing a lot of people talking about how fake these entitled parent stories are and such. They're right, to an extent. My story would definitely sound fake to a lot of people. I hope you all can take my word for it and enjoy my story and experience. Just remember there are strange people out there. I've definitely lived a crazy life with some crazy friends and enemies, and have had my fair share of idiots. I live in a medium-sized city and much of the area is rural. I was about nine at the time. There's a bridge that connects two very popular hiking trails that runs over a wide river. Despite its length and width, the river is only about 15 feet deep at its deepest point. Anyway, the trail is always packed in early summer to late fall, since the bridge is the only way to access the other trail without taking a swim in the river. My dad, brother and I were crossing the bridge to get to the other trail, when my dad requested that we stop and take some photos of the mountain view we had. My small and skinny brother, about seven at the time, was doing that kid thing where they hoist themselves above a railing with their hands, but stay in that position. He was enjoying the view, when this absolute whale of a woman, and I mean an absolute hunk of lard, about 400 pounds, came run waddling up to us. She didn't have a sea or manager haircut, but her head was shaved and the stubble of her hair was dyed red. She had one of those baby carriers that you strapped to your chest with an infant in it. This psycho mother stopped right behind my brother, and uttered, You're not setting a good example for my daughter, and promptly yeeted him off the bridge. In retrospect, she probably just kind of eased him off, but my memory was a bit hazy from that part. Naturally, my dad, me, and everyone else crossing the bridge were in shock. I saw someone immediately dial 911 while my dad was yelling at her. I was just bawling and looking over the edge, where I saw my brother had surfaced. The drop was about 25 feet, but there's no way he landed on his feet after he tumbled off. A bunch of people started yelling at him to swim to the shore, but I could see that he was too busy screaming and crying to listen to what they were saying. I turned back to my dad and saw that the lady was matching his level of anger and shouting as loud as he was. All I could hear from the psycho mom, who didn't want to take responsibility, was things like, your son behavior was a bad influence for my daughter, what if she tried to do something like that? To which my dad yelled back, I don't care about your freaking daughter, why the hell did you just push my son off a bridge? He yelled this while running down to the edge to get to my brother. A squad car pulled up soon after. A bunch of hikers took started yelling at the psycho mom, to try and prevent her from waddling away from the scene. One of the officers opens their mouth to say something and the psycho mom turns around and tackles the officer, scratching at his face and screaming like a banshee. The other cop and several other hikers immediately try to pull her off, not because she was attacking the cop, but because she had practically belly flopped onto him while still carrying a baby on her chest. As soon as they get her off, she starts running at the cop again. The strap that held the baby must have broken, because someone had taken hold of the baby. The second cop drew her gun and shot her in the shoulder. After shrieking so loudly that I thought I was going to go deaf, the whale passed out and the cops took her to an ambulance that joined the squad car shortly after. The baby was crying and a paramedic took her away. I was still crying and kept on sobbing until my dad appeared with my soaking wet brother. The cops ask us a crap ton of questions. My brother was fine but totally shaken. He got diagnosed with PTSD six months later. We went home and began to recover. Two weeks later we get a letter from the police department saying that the lady had serious undiagnosed mental health issues and most likely saw my brother as a threat to her child, rather than her story of him being a bad influence. Despite the surprising results, I still hate her for what she did to my little brother and will never forgive her. This was back in early 2013. She's still serving her seven-year prison sentence for attempted manslaughter, child endangerment, and assault. I also heard she was in rehabilitation sessions, so I hope she can come to her senses. This is a story passed down through the generations from my family, so while the title may seem rather extreme, this all happened a very, very long time ago. It goes without saying, this did not happen to me, but rather my great-great-grandfather, back when he was a child living in a small town in Louisiana. Please keep in mind that the people in the town were very much so racist, given the time and area, though they hated the mother far more than her child. Be warned, I am not going to spare any of the explicit details, I will be telling the story exactly as I have heard it. Keep in mind, this is all word of mouth, I personally have not been able to confirm this story, but my family insists that this has happened. Our story takes place in the 1880s in a very small town in eastern Louisiana. My great-great-grandfather, let's call him John. John and his family had moved from their native country of Spain to the Americas, to flee into her family conflict and had decided to settle with some other relatives. Within this small town there was just a few families that had established themselves there, one of which consisted of a demon mother and her two children. Let's name her after the demon Lilith. At one point in her life, Lilith was a member of an extremely phenomenal family in New Orleans, the woman actually being related to another famous murderer from the city, though distantly. From what John's family had been told, Lilith was a smart, tough arrogant woman that had possessed an immeasurable amount of wealth, though lost it after her family disowned her for conceiving a child through adultery in her marriage. She had been married to a prominent doctor in the city, of which they had one child, named Seth, though when another child had been born, the husband had immediately called out adultery. It seemed that Lilith's youngest son, Adam, had been born with caramel-colored skin and brown eyes, whereas both of his parents had eggshell white skin and blue eyes. After intense questioning, Lilith confessed to having an affair with a local farmer, a man that once been a slave but freed after the Civil War. Her family immediately disowned her, her fortune stripped, and Lilith was about be tossed out on the streets, but her mother had given her just enough money behind the family's back to allow her to survive far away from the city. She was dead to the rest of her family except her uncle, who was the sheriff, and her own mother. Lilith had taken her sons with her and from John's first look, it was extremely clear how horrible Adam had been treated. Seth, Adam and John had gone to the same school, a small schoolhouse that also functioned as the church. One day, John noticed Seth repeatedly smacking Adam on the back of the head, punching him in the gut, and tripping him in the mud when the teacher's eyes were looking into another direction. When John asked Adam about the abuse, he simply answered, because my skin color is different. John, being an immigrant and not knowing the customs of the town had shrugged it off and returned to playing. Months passed and the abuse continued. Adam would show up to school with black eyes, swollen lips, bruises and more. But no one would do anything about it. As the entire matter was considered a family matter, though even if someone had taken the initiative to confront Lilith about the abuse, she would meet them with the typical excuses like, he got in them while roughhousing. One day though, things changed so much that John and his family had gotten involved. John and Adam weren't particularly close friends, they were the only two boys of age six at the time, so it was often that they would end up playing after school or during lunch. Seth did not like this one bit. Seth had come up to the two boys one day and this is roughly the conversation that had taken place. Seth started with, well, I didn't know we had a crybaby lover here, what's your name crybaby lover? John told him he didn't know what that word means and introduced himself while asking, you must be Adam's older brother, right? Adam replied, Seth, leave us alone, we are trying to eat lunch. Seth apparently thought it was a good idea to toss both boys food on the ground at this point, deciding that he had a new play thing to bully. Seth, crybaby and crybaby lovers like you two don't deserve to eat on tables, go eat your food out of the dirt. It's important to note that Seth was around 12 at the time, double the age of the boys, so fighting back wasn't an option, and even if it was, it would give Adam hell at home. While John started to cry over his food, Adam had already gotten on the floor, attempting to pick up his sandwich before Seth stomped on it. But rather than stomp on the sandwich, Seth had decided that it would be far more brutal to punch Adam in the back of the head while he was on his knees. After punching Adam, Seth proceeded to punch John in the stomach before wandering off. Apparently, the fact that Seth punched John in the gut was enough to anger his dad, as the next day my granddad paid Lilith a visit to sort things out. When his dad met Lilith at her house, it would be the first time they had seen each other as Lilith was a introvert at this point. John's dad was met with a tattered, withered, mess of a woman. Lilith had only been around 27 or 28 at this time. But it was extremely easy to pass her off for being in her late 30s. Her hair was a ragged blonde mess, knotted and matted as one would expect. Her face wore a permanent, withered scowl of someone who had fallen from their absolute apex, doomed to fade out of their own existence like a withering weed. Her once elegant gown had become nothing more than a tattered mess used to cover her obese form. Lilith never gave John's dad any respect, not even from the beginning, the argument ensuing before the first word could be spoken. Lilith straight up asked why he made her get off her chair. She added, Do you understand I don't want guests or are you just stupid? John's dad trying to keep his composition apologized and told her about the situation of Seth punching John in the stomach and destroying his lunch. He asked her to have a word with Seth about his behavior. Lilith told him she wouldn't be scolding her son for beating up trash like his brat and told him to frick off, ending the conversation with slamming the door. John's dad, feeling that it wasn't worth the effort to keep bothering the stubborn demon, had decided that the best course of action was simply to teach his son how to fight. He taught John some dirty tricks to disarm Seth, though John never had to use them. The next day something odd happened, Adam was nowhere to be seen. And then the next, followed by the next. When the teacher had asked Seth where Adam was, Seth told her that he was very sick, though when she had asked what his symptoms were, Seth kept contradicting himself. One more day passed before it happened. One of the stray dogs in the neighborhood had ended up with something peculiar in his greedy maw and after one of the townsfolk pried it from the dog's maw, it was clear that it was a human rib, one small enough to be a child's. Dots were connected immediately, though due to the sheriff being the Lilith's uncle, the sheriff had decided that he would check on things himself. After a few hours, the sheriff reported to the townsfolk that Adam had just been buried the day prior after dying of some unknown disease, the dog having dug up the child's rib somehow. No one bought it, though no one spoke in fear of any recoil an acquisition might have. John's dad however, decided that he was going to take things into his own hands. He and three other men in the town had broken into the Lilith's house that night, while her and her son were at the sheriff's office to discuss why she did not report the death right away. What they found was absolutely terrifying. It's so gruesome, that I have to tell it different for YouTube guidelines. But I'll do my best to paint the picture. What they found was in fact Adam, though he was dead. In the basement of the house was where he was killed. His body had been absolutely defiled, and the assumption of his end was far from pleasant. Two of the men stormed back to the town to spread the news, as John's dad returned to his family to tell his son that he would never see Adam again. Justice was swift and brutal. Just about every person in town stormed the sheriff's office and just about every person demanded justice. The sheriff insisted that his niece be given a fair trial, while Lilith had broken down crying. A hundred eyes sending unrelenting anger into her very soul as they outraged over the merciless crime she committed. In the middle of the chaos Seth spoke up in a foolish attempt to protect his mother, saying that the only way that they would get their lives back was if the kid was dead and that he ruined their lives. This foolish plea fell on deaf ears, only managing to fuel the rage of the mob as they stormed the room and grabbed all three of those inside. Lilith, Seth and the sheriff were given no mercy. The crowd grabbing all three and beating all three mercilessly, Seth losing his life somewhere in the chaos. The remaining two were dragged to the top of the largest building and thrown off, though given it was only two floors the crowd had continued to beat, and eventually stabbed the two until the life left them. And that was it. The three were buried in unmarked graves somewhere in the woods while Adam's remains were buried in the local cemetery. All four lives were destroyed over the greed and racism, both trying to recapture the life they once knew through the most extreme method possible, while one man who could have avoided all this death, protected his family in a futile last resort. Thank you for enjoying this episode, which was made with artificial love. Subscribe or give royal ASMR sugar by avenging the like button. Could you imagine doing one of these acts yourself? Share your experience below. I'll join the conversation.