 Two wrongs don't make a right. But it damn sure makes us even. Kinda. In this episode, you'll hear about a pedophile dad, being punished for his crimes in prison, dogs defending a family at all costs. Someone who let his evil twin brother die. And last but not worst, a rage-consumed woman, whose acts can only be classified, as an overkill revenge act. Naturally, viewer discretion is advised. These revenge acts might be disturbing to snowflakes. This story has sat with me for a few years now, and I feel like I'm ready to share it. It's somewhat vague because there are a lot of people that could be hurt with the details of this story. My father sexually abused me and my siblings growing up. I was the youngest of three siblings and was the one that spoke out, eventually getting him arrested. He only got charged with one count against my sister, me and my brother have spoken about what happened a few times, but we both feel we never got justice for what he did. He got four years in federal prison as well, as charges for having drugs and some illegal weapons. He had an assault rifle and pistol that weren't registered in Canada. For a time in my teenage years, I ended up living in a bad neighborhood. Living with my gang member friends and selling drugs to pay for myself to eat. Don't judge me for that. I only sold weed which won't kill anyone, so I feel fine about it. One day, a higher up in the gang my friends were in, came by our apartment, because I was selling a lot of weed, and he was beginning to not like it. He gave me a boundary and I respected him, since he respected me being just a kid trying to finish high school. The higher up, let's call him Greg, would come by once a week to check in, but not in a bad way. Greg actually helped me out, so a month after meeting him, I didn't need to sell anymore. He helped with bills and groceries etc. When I asked him why, he told me he knew my dad in jail. The following story is what I remember from what he told me. The prison confirmed this story when I asked after my 18th birthday. Greg had been in prison for three years when my dad arrived at the prison. Greg and my dad turned out to be cellmates. Greg explained to me, that my dad never seemed right, and over a year he managed to gain his trust. My dad revealed to him that he wasn't caught for assaulting multiple people in his charge, but didn't actually tell him what he did. Greg being a powerful gang, used his connections to find out exactly what my dad did. Greg didn't want a ruin getting out, so all he did was tell the more respected prisoners, of which will never see freedom again, and do not have morals. My father was raped, beaten, burned, stabbed and beaten again for months before he died. And all I can say is I wish it lasted longer. Greg put the pieces together and looked out for me for two years, when I had no one. Greg got the justice that me and my siblings really deserved. When I think about the months of torture he endured, I feel those prisoners got better revenge than I could ever have gotten. I am great now, Greg is kind of like an old crazy uncle now. He got shot in the arm and gave up the gang life. This was many years ago, and I was never charged. The case was closed as a home invasion that was stopped with reasonable force. My dogs were not harmed or removed from me. My neighbor, let's call her Josephine, was a nice lady, a single mom with one little boy, when she moved she had some rat issues caused by the previous owner's hoarding, and since I am not bothered by rats, and had a small dog as well as my big ones, I was able to help out a bit. She and my wife became great friends, and her boy loved my Mastiffs and the great Dane I owned back then. Often when Josephine was working, her lad would come and stay with my wife and I, and the dogs, after school and on weekends. About a year after Josephine moved in, she told us she was sure she was being followed by a man, who had approached her in a bar on one of her twice yearly nights out with her sister. She barely went out socializing, it was sheer bad luck she met this man at all. She asked us to keep an eye out for his type and color car, and if we could get his number plate she could give it to the police. We, of course, promised to help, and carried on about that day. Late that night my Dane woke me whining, and led me to the side door. This door opened onto a shared driveway with my neighbor. I opened it thinking he needed to go to the toilet in the garden, but as soon as I opened it I saw a man inside Josephine's kitchen, and then heard her scream. I dashed over the driveway, and I could see her door was forced open, which was probably what woke my dogs. I pushed open her kitchen door and shouted at him to stop. He went for me, realized pretty quickly I knew how to fight, and that he was losing. In the struggle he managed to get free, and took off down the road. We called the police and reported it, and gave statements when the police arrived. Josephine and her boy stayed with us for the rest of the night, the next day she went to stay with relatives using another friend's car just in case he was hanging around. I scouted ahead a bit, to make sure she could get away safely. That night I woke up to the sound of a man screaming in my house. I could have gone straight downstairs to see what was going on, but I waited until the screaming stopped before investigating, since it sounded exactly like the man from the night before, and I figured he needed some quality time with some real predators. He wasn't moving when I went into the living room, but the dogs were really happy with themselves. What the police and I worked out had happened, was that he quietly broke into my kitchen through the side door, my mastiffs and the dane waited, till he was deep in the house before they struck. He was ragdolled by the neck from behind by my dane, and while this was happening the mastiffs tore his legs to shreds. The little dog of my wife attacked him too, bearing in mind the little dog was covered in the blood of the intruder. He had suffered multiple fatal wounds to his thigh's neck and face. The rapist slash intruder had a backpack on with knives, duck slash duck tape, gags and a small hand axe. DNA, Josephine had scratched him, and my and Josephine's statements confirmed, he was the same man who had tried to rape my neighbor. He had no idea I had large dogs at seams. Or he was really fucking stupid? Who cares? Those dogs have all died of old age now, but I bred from the mastiffs and still have their pups and grand pups. The dane made it to 12 which is ancient for one of them. Josephine got a mastiff from me shortly after this event, and she still owns large dogs too. I recommend a large dog as a companion, and as something that will freak up any intruder for you. As Bill Burr says, it's like owning a gun you can pet. I will use fake names for obvious reasons you will find out. Me and my twin brother Sebastian have never ever been close, in fact, he made life hell growing up, and my parents didn't help by playing favorites. For example, they would get him better stuff on our birthday, we would only go to see films he liked at the cinema and they would give him extra money for housework, despite us doing the same amount of work. He would always put me down, belittle me, bully me with his friends at school, break my stuff and his, then blame me and was just a pain in general. Growing up, the only people I knew to rely on was my older sister Jane, my cousin Kai and best friend Isaac. They all knew what an awful person my brother was. Anyway cut to when I was 17 and I had my first girlfriend, someone I loved very much. We didn't have sex cause she wanted to wait till her 18th birthday to lose her virginity, but it turns out that she was having an affair with my brother behind my back, for half the time we were together. She only got caught when it was revealed she was pregnant. I was crushed, she knew how much I hated my brother and she saw some of the awful things he did to me, but she still went and did that. Cheating is bad enough but to do it with him of all people. I punched him in the face, and broke his nose and made him lose a tooth, but according to my parents, I'm the one in the wrong, and now we have to help this girl who is carrying my brother's child and have to help support them. My brother then said he had no intention of being a father, and told my girlfriend to get an abortion. She then ran out of town and I never saw her again, don't know if she had the baby or aborted. All I know was that she was gone, and my folks were still praising my brother as the golden child. Another year goes past and me and my brother still despise each other, but I had started dating again. It took a while but I found someone. Found a boy I liked. I am bisexual and met this guy Daniel at college. He was deaf and I studied sign language out of boredom, so we got talking and things just seemed to click. We date, fall in love, bring him to my friend Issac's party to introduce him to friends and all feels great. At this point the only one who knew I was bi was Isaac. One day walking into a cinema holding my boyfriend's hand, I bump into my evil twin. He points, laughs and says some homophobic remarks. I tell him to go frick himself and walk to the movie with my arm round my boyfriend. When I got home after dropping my boyfriend home, I knew I'd be facing something as I walked through the front door. I saw both my parents on the sofa, my mother crying about how on earth she could have given birth to someone so disgusting. I hope she was referring to my evil brother. But nope, she was talking about me and how I'm a stain on our family's name. My father gets up to yell at me, spout homophobic remarks and slurs. At this point I see my brother up the staircase with a shit eating grin on his face, he then comes down and says he feels uncomfortable with sharing a room with a gay person. I will skip the profanity he used. That's when my folks decided to kick me out there and then. With what little clothes and money I had, I went to Issac's house and his family took me in, where I stayed for six months, actually experiencing familial love and affection. I consider Issac's mother and stepdad as my own parents now. Eventually me, Daniel and Issac started to rent a two bedroom flat together and all is good for the time being. So cut to December last year, me and Daniel are married, Issac was my best man, my sister and cousin Kai walked me down the aisle. I have a respectable job in graphic design, have my own house by the sea and life has never been better. However I got a call from my sister that my brother was in a hospital. I hadn't thought about him that much over the nine year period since I was kicked out, but being reminded of his existence brought up a lot of painful memories for me. I was told by my sister that Sebastian wanted to see me, and that it was urgent. So I went to the hospital he was in and met my sister outside the front entrance. I asked her what this is all about but she wouldn't tell me and that I need to ask my twin. So I arrived to where my brother is, joined by my parents at his side and my folks actually look happy to see me, as if what they did to me hadn't happened. Even Sebastian looked really pleased to see me. It's safe to say something was off. Eventually I ask what's going on and why was I even here, to which my brother tells the family to leave us two alone. He looks so weak, it feels strange to see him like that because he used to intimidate me so much. He told me that he was dying from kidney failure and has been sick for the past few years, but now he didn't have long left. I knew immediately where this was going. He said he always regretted that we never got along at which point I told him no. He looked confused and asked what I was on about, so I simply told him I wasn't going to donate my kidney to save him. He looked as if I had just shit in his food. He then went on about how bad the situation was and that he really was sorry for all the things we did to each other growing up. Like excuse me? We did to each other? I told him that I just wanted a brother growing up that cared and loved me who wouldn't try and break me every day for 18 years. He then called in our mom and dad and told them that I wasn't going to give up my kidney. They then started to spout off that I owed them for my existence and that I have a duty to look after family. I asked them where that duty was when they kicked me out of the house or where that duty was every time my brother gave me a black eye. I also asked where their duty was to look after their grandchild when Sebastian decided he didn't want to be a father to me ex-girlfriend's child. I said for all the things he has done, from outing me to having an affair with my girlfriend and abandoning his child, that this was the universes, and my, way of finally giving back, what he dished out, to bite him in the arse. I then turned around and walked out of the room having that be the last time I ever saw Sebastian again. Not sure why they'd want a gay person's kidney anyway. I walked past my sister who gave me a look, I gave her a look back, who then in turn gave me a look that said I understand. After leaving the hospital, I felt as if a great weight had been taken off my shoulders, I went home and never looked back. I'm surely pleased with my decision. Now last week I get a call from my sister calling to inform me, that Sebastian had died. She asked if I was okay and I said I was, that I didn't really feel anything in all honesty. She said she understood to a degree, as Sebastian hadn't been all that kind to her over the years either. I had my husband and Isaac there to support me. Honestly, at this point Isaac may as well be our adopted child since he was living with us through this whole situation. The next day I was getting calls and texts from family members I hadn't spoken to in years, telling me that in going to hell for being a bad son, being a bad brother and for being gay. They told me that me and my husband don't deserve children. They knew we were looking into adoption and surrogacy. This makes me second guess my choice of not giving my brother my kidney, even in death he's making things harder for me. I did wonder if I was a bad person and if I made the wrong decision but I knew that if I was in that position, I would have been left for dead. So screw him. Other bits of information that may clear things up. 1. His kidney failure was from living a hardcore lifestyle of drugs and alcohol. 2. I disowned them of being my family years ago, so when I got married I took my husband's last name and hypen it with Isaac's last name to which his folks were very pleased about. 3. It's unlikely I'll ever see my parents again and I'll make sure my children will never meet them. My true revenge to them, will be being a better parent than they ever were to me. I'm going to start this story off by saying that this is absolutely not one of my most shining moral moments and that I'm well aware that I was a straight up poop hole for doing what I did. My only real defense is that I was in a super bad place mentally and needed a mountain's worth of therapy. She was evil in human form. Now, on with the revenge. I was a weird kid growing up, really weird. It was mostly because I was being abused at home and forcibly isolated. My social skills were so underdeveloped that I had difficulty reading human faces aside from my grandmother, grandfather, and father. Being the weird girl meant that I was a juicy target for bullies. It never stopped, but there was one bully that I hated more than any of the others. We'll call her Holly. This girl never passed up an opportunity to make my life hell, and since she lived across the street from me, there was nowhere I could avoid her. Holly treated me like garbage. She put dog poo in our mailbox on a regular basis. She let my dog out of my yard, and I was never able to get her back. She would also sit on her porch with her friends, while roasting the hell out of me to entertain them, if I so much as put a toe outside of my front door. It's just embarrassing to admit to being weak enough that she could do it to me at all. She beat my ass more than a few times, once she and her friends force fed me poo poo. Actual poo poo? No, I don't know what kind. She shoved me down an embankment and I chipped my front tooth on a cinder block. The list goes on and on, and I don't really feel like going into it, but suffice to say it wasn't just teasing. It doesn't make what I did much better, but I didn't do it over something minor. It went on for years. I hated her with the fiery passion of a thousand sons, but while my grandmother was still alive, there was nothing I could do about Holly. If I did anything to her or fought back in any way my grandmother would punish me for it, and I was more afraid of her than I was of Holly, for a very good reason. So, I made a plan. I suffered through all the abuse, and promised myself that when I was older, I would make Holly pay for what she did to me. Thinking of what I was going to do to her when the time was right, was sometimes the only thing that kept me going. Over time, Holly grew up, and eventually she left me alone and stopped being an arsehole, unfortunately for her, by then, it was too late. I didn't give a doodoo about her new moral epiphany, I had been nursing my grudge for two decades, and it was time for a reckoning. I was going to destroy that bitch. When my grandmother finally died, it was go time, and I'd had 20 years to plan. I wasn't idle while I waited. I'd made it my mission in life, to learn as much about Holly as possible, and to accomplish this, I became friends with a few people on the periphery of her social circle. Eventually, I knew more about her and her life than her own mother did. The first step I took in my plan, was getting her fired from her job. It took longer than I would have liked, but eventually I managed it. Holly worked at a doctor's office, and I knew that the doctor she worked for was super Christian. Very straight edge, upstanding type of guy. He also had a huge influence on the local community. I decided to become a patient at his office, kettling my visits to be on the days Holly was off work. After a couple of visits I just happened to notice Holly and the staff photo on the waiting room wall. I made a show of looking surprised and then concerned. I got to the exam room, and the doctor came in shortly after. The expression on my face got his attention, and he asked me what was wrong. I told him that even though I didn't want to, as a Christian, I couldn't keep my knowledge a secret and still sleep at night. Because I just couldn't let him endanger his soul and reputation by doing nothing. I had his full attention, then and I asked him, as one fellow Christian to another, not to tell anyone where he got the information I was about to give him, after he promised he would. I told him that I knew that Holly was using illegal drugs. He was absolutely flawed and at first he didn't believe me. I told him that I understood his skepticism entirely, but it was easy enough to prove or disprove my information with a drug test. If I was wrong, he lost nothing. If I was right he was saving himself from trouble down the road. He finally agreed to test her, and he tested everyone else too so that it didn't look like Holly was the only target. See, I wasn't actually lying. Holly smoked a shitload of weed, and I knew that because it was my dad she used to get it from. He'd been her weed dude since she was like 15. Her test came back positive for marijuana and much to my surprise, Xanax. Oopsie. The doctor fired Holly on the spot when the results of the urinalysis came back. He also called me to thank me for telling him what was going on, and before he hung up, he told me that I truly walked with the Lord. You'll will never know how hard I had to fight not to laugh at the depths of his wrongness. I thought I was going to pop a blood vessel. Phase one, complete. I know what you're thinking, it's just a job and it's not like she can't go get another one, right? Losing a job isn't the end of the world. You'd be wrong. Remember how I said that her boss had a very high reputation in our area? That man called every single hospital and doctor's office in the state personally to make sure that none of them would hire Holly and risk liability and loss of community trust for associating with her. Holly's field of study was all pertaining to the medical profession, so her education was rendered worthless because nobody would hire her. I wasn't done yet. Nope. Not even close. She lost her job, and because she had no income, her car got repossessed. She still had her family though, two kids and a fiance. Who needs families? Am I right? With the help of a good friend of mine, we catfished the pajamas out of her fiance. My friend is hot as frick, and she let me use pictures of her to prove that she was really real. She even got on Skype with him once. When he finally made the arrangements for a face-to-face encounter, and booked a hotel room, I texted the screenshots of everything to Holly, from a burner number. To say the excrement impacted the oscillating unit, would be a vast understatement. They broke up, the whole thing was an ordeal and Holly was devastated. She had two kids, no job, and now no fiance who could help her keep the family afloat. A normal person would have stopped then. Unfortunately, I am not normal, and I was going full scorched earth. I sieved for 20 years, no way in hell was I going easy on her. Phase 3. With her fiance gone and no job. Holly was struggling badly, she needed money, and she needed it quickly before she and the kids got evicted. Meth is a giant problem in my area, it's high risk but it's also fast money. So I started subtly mentioning Holly's situation, among my more legally questionable family. Eventually one of my family's friends, who happened to be a meth cook, got in contact with Holly, and offered her a shitload of cash, to let him cook dope at her house. It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Two days and then done forever. Holly was desperate, so she said yes, everything went smoothly at first. But dead in the middle of the cook session, someone called in an anonymous tip, about an active cook in progress to the local narcotics unit. They rolled up on Holly's house at about 3 a.m., and caught everybody inside, including Holly red-handed making meth. Watching her cry, being handcuffed and put in that police cruiser, was one of the most gloriously satisfying moments of my life. She was in deep legal poo-poo, and to make a bad situation even worse, most houses where labs are discovered, aren't deemed habitable afterwards, because the toxic fumes from the chemicals used to make the drug get everywhere, and it's super hard and time consuming to clean. It's up to the property owner, to either hire a hazmat team to clean it, or condemn it and tear it down. A lab cleanup costs thousands of dollars. It would have cost more money to clean it than the entire property was worth. So it got torn down, with everything Holly owned still inside. See, you can't take things out of a meth lab because they're going to be covered in toxic residue. It can make you very sick, especially young children. Everything in the residence is usually counted as a loss. Now, some people sneak in and grab stuff anyway, but whatever, it's their funeral. But since Holly was still sitting in jail, there was no way for her to get anything, and none of her close family were interested in risking getting caught, sneaking into the house and being accused of stealing or tampering with the crime scene. Holly ended up in jail for a while, and while she was gone, the court gave their father, ex-fiancé, sole custody of their children, and Holly was only given supervised visitation. Two hours every Saturday if I recall correctly. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and mine was freezing. I was behind every single bad thing that happened in Holly's life, in one way or another, for an entire five-year period. She decided she liked bullying me, and making my life hell, and she figures there would never be any consequences. Instead, I took her reputation, her job, her fiancé, got her arrested and convicted of a felony, and her children taken from her. The best part is, that she has no clue I did it to this very day. She'd forgotten about me, what she did to me impacted my life forever, but to her it wasn't even important enough to bother remembering. I was nothing to her, so she never connected me to her problems. Last I heard, she was in rehab for alcoholism and had her parental rights terminated permanently. After she lost her kids, she just sort of gave up, and crawled into a bottle and never came out again. I was tempted to tell her, but I decided that the helplessness and confusion, about why everything suddenly went to hell in a hand basket was the better plan, because that means that every now and again, I can contact her and pretend to give a shit about her troubles to get a fresh revenge boner about her newest tale of sorrow. She thinks I'm the nicest person she's ever met.