RevengeHe slipped the forged letter into his former ally’s desk, knowing it would ignite the feud he had long plotted.

Two years ago Daniel had everything: a family, a wife, plans for the future, hope Now there is nothing left. He cannot bear the ache of loss, and he cannot persuade himself to move on. If he could turn back that cursed day, he would do anything to stop it from happening. If only

For the first time in two years, Daniel hurried back to the oppressive silence of his empty cottage. At last he would have the chance to avenge Emilys death. He had intended to stop at the offlicence for a bottle of gin, but changed his mind. The hour of revenge was at hand, and his head needed to stay clear. He went to bed early and, surprisingly, fell asleep quickly. Two hours later he woke with his heart hammering, gasping for air. In his mind he could still hear Emilys breathing beside him. He strained to open his eyes, hoping to see her there, but the pillow lay untouched. Back to sleep.

Daniel ran a hand over the sheets. The linen warmed under his fingers, giving him the fleeting illusion that Emily had just been there, a heartbeat before he woke. Sleep would not return. He lay staring at the ceiling, its plaster turning a ghostly white in the darkness, replaying the twoyear wait for vengeance, the ache that gnawed at him. He knew the enemy had returned.

On that illfated morning Emily had called off work early. She was on her way to a prenatal scan at the local clinic; shed been trying for years, hoping for a baby. She paused at the curb, and a green pedestrian light blinked across the road. She stepped onto the zebra crossing first, unaware that a car was racing toward the junction, trying to beat the tide of foot traffic. The driver would have made it if not for a cyclist barreling down the opposite lane. The collision was inevitable, but the driver swerved sharply to the right, sending the vehicle into Emilys path. She was killed instantly.

The driver received a twoyear custodial sentence. The cyclist escaped with bruises. Doctors later confirmed Emily was not pregnant. The enemy lived on with his wife and son, while Daniel was left with nothing, no hope. He had long decided to kill the man who had taken his wife. He would strike with the full force of a roaring engine, hoping his own family might escape the nightmare he endured. Daniel resolved he would not hide or run away, even if it meant his own death. He had already died with Emily two years ago; the waiting for revenge could not be called a life.

Occasionally Daniel drove to the crossroads where Emily had died, buying flowers and laying them at the curb. Passersby glanced past without a word. He stood there, trying to picture what Emily might have thought in those final secondsperhaps she was hoping for good news, taking a last breath before stepping onto the crossing

He visited her grave, went to church, but found no solace. Only by avenging his foe could he feel free.

Exhausted and sleepless, Daniel rose, took a hot shower, and shaved carefully. He ate a plain sandwich with tea, eyes fixed on a stain on the wallEmily had meant to repaper that room. He left the stain untouched; it was a fragment of his memory. He slipped on a clean shirt, cast one last glance around the room, and wondered whether he would ever return.

At first he drifted around town, killing time. It was far too early. His enemy was still lounging on fresh sheets beside his wife, or perhaps he had already risen, stretched, shuffled to the bathroom, and was now scratching his leg just below his underwear. He finished his business, yawned, showered. His wife had already set the breakfast table. He would emerge from the bathroom smelling of shower gel, kiss his wife, and sit opposite his son at the table Enough, Daniel muttered to himself. The enemy looks far too decent. The man who killed my wife cannot possibly be that charming.

Now Daniel imagined the enemy the night before, drunk and stumbling, trying to make up for two lost years. He woke with a pounding headache and an unquenchable thirst. He splashed water on his face, guzzled straight from the tap as he used to in prison, and skipped shaving. Still in his boxers and a tshirt, he slumped into a chair. Now thats right. Thats how the enemy should lookno pity for him.

He turned the car around and drove to the enemys house. In the driveway he parked where he could see the entrance. Two children played on the garden swing set. Daniel settled in to wait. Sooner or later the enemy would emerge, alone or with his familyit didnt matter. If not today, the next time revenge would find him.

It was late April. New buds had pushed through the hedges and the sunny side of the garden, the pavement still glistening from the nights rain. The sky was overcast, a chill in the air.

A boy of about six burst out of the front door and raced to the playground, but then he stopped, eyes on Daniels slowmoving SUV. Maybe hes the enemys son? Daniel thought, lowering his window.

What do you want, lad? Daniel asked.

Nothing, the boy replied, staring directly at Daniel, unfazed. My dad also had a car. Not as fancy as yours.

And wheres it now? Sold it? Daniel smiled, pleased at the easy line of inquiry.

Yeah. Crashed it, and we havent bought a new one yet. The boy shrugged.

Daniel examined the child, trying to see a resemblance to his target. He found noneperhaps the boy looked more like his mother, a face Daniel could not recall. The enemys face, however, was burned into his memory. A few raindrops dotted the windshield.

Want a seat? Jump in so you dont get soaked, Daniel offered, leaning over the passenger door.

The boy hesitated a heartbeat, then, as the rain intensified, he climbed onto the high seat and shut the door. The patter of rain inside the cabin was barely audible. The childs eyes widened as he took in the redlit dashboard.

Do the seats heat up? Does it guzzle a lot of petrol? he asked in a surprisingly mature tone.

Daniel answered each question willingly, feeling uneasy about lingering in the middle of a residential estate with a youngster.

Shall we take a spin? Its raining anyway, Daniel suggested.

The boy gave him a wary look.

If you dont want that, we can just sit, Daniel said aloud, though in his mind he thought, What a brave, clever kid.

Mom will be angry. I get it, the boy muttered, glancing again at Daniel.

She wont be thinking of me, Daniel replied.

The boy nodded.

Daniel pulled away from the driveway, wondering if anyone had seen them. Children were unlikely to remember makes and models, let alone licence plates.

A fragment of an old saying drifted to him: the best revenge is to hurt the one the offender loves most. The idea struck him like a bolt.

Whats your name? Daniel asked.

Vicky, the boy answered brightly.

No wayIm also Victor, Daniel laughed. We share a name.

He thought, *I wont kill him. I cant. The boy is innocent. The enemy is one thing, the child another. I could drive him far away and leave him, never to be found. Let him suffer the loss of his own son.*

Before he could finish, the boys voice cut through his thoughts.

What? Daniel asked.

Im not the one who hit that lady. My mum was driving. My dad was in the passenger seat. The boys eyes widened.

Which lady? a cold shiver ran down Daniels spine.

My mum took the blame for the crash. She couldnt survive prison; shes ill, often in hospital. The boys tone was oddly matteroffact.

How do you know? Daniel asked, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

Im not small. I heard my parents whisper. Mom even told me.

Heat surged through Daniels veins. He gripped the wheel with damp palms.

Why tell me? Should I go to the police? the boy asked.

My dad already served time. Can you be punished twice for the same crime? the boy replied, cocking his head.

Probably not, Daniel managed a strained smile.

He didnt notice the countryside slipping by until the car was out of town. The boy stared ahead, his eyes wide, the wet road stretching beneath them in neat white lines.

Where are we going? the boy asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

Im thinking, Daniel said, slowing at the roadside, rolling down the window to let the fresh, damp air wash over his face. The roar of passing traffic grew louder.

You alright? the boy asked, his tone now urgent, his gaze full of understanding. Daniel felt heat rush to his cheeks.

Does a child sense danger? Can he feel what Im doing? Daniel wondered, turning the car around and heading back toward the town.

Emily could not be returned. The enemy hadnt killed her; his wife had taken the blame. She had served her time, her health now failing. Who should he now target? The girls mother had a single, failing kidney. What about him? He contemplated taking revenge on the innocent boy

Who looked after you when your mum was in hospital? Daniel asked.

My granny. She has a weak heart and never liked my mum, the boy replied.

Daniel watched the wet ribbon of asphalt glide past as the rain stopped.

How old are you? the boy asked.

Seven. Ill start school in September. Do you have kids? Daniel shivered. How could he tell the boy that he had always wanted a son?

Arrived, Daniel said.

They pulled into the driveway. The children inside ducked into the house, none crying in the yard. Vicky opened the passenger door.

Who were you coming to see? Daniel asked, a little confused.

What? Oh I came to visit friends, but they werent home. Vicky hopped onto the pavement.

Will you come back? Daniel asked.

Well see. If you ever get a new car, maybe you could give me a ride. I have no brothers or sisters, Vicky replied after a pause. If your dad ever buys a new one, thatd be grand. He wont regret it.

Thanks. Goodbye, Vicky said, her voice bright as the door slammed shut.

Daniel raised his hand in farewell, then drove away, buying a bottle of gin from the corner shop. He stopped by the riverbank, sat on the damp grass, and drank straight from the bottle. The liquid burned his throat. He lay back, eyes fixed on the sky. The clouds cleared, unveiling a deep blue.

Hey, Uncle, arent you gonna catch a cold? a hoarse voice called.

Daniel opened his eyes. Two teenagers stood over him. He had dozed off. He leapt to his feet, stalked back to the car.

Hey, Uncle, want a drink? one of the teens shouted.

Its too early for that, Daniel said, picking up the almostempty bottle from the ground.

A string of curses rose behind him, but he didnt look back.

He slipped into the car and drove home. For the first time in two years, he felt a strange, fleeting sense of freedom.

Lord, I almost did something terrible. Thank you for keeping me safe. I wish I had a son he whispered, tears blurring the road ahead.

Revenge had become his whole lifea life spent hating the person who had taken everything. In seeking to destroy his enemy, he had wasted the one unique life he was given. He realized that when you let vengeance rule, you hand over your own future to a darkness that devours you, no matter whether you win or lose.