Blood for Blood

Revenge Has a Price

Plot

Emily Mercer · Personal Notebook BLOOD FOR BLOOD Private. Seriously. Yes, You. That includes you. “Will you play with me?” Before all of this I met You when we were seven. Apparently my opening strategy was: “Will you play with me?” It worked. School. Walks. Homework. Games. Shared food. Arguments over rules. Private jokes nobody else understood. Then somewhere along the way I made the catastrophic discovery that I liked You considerably more than was convenient. Kept that secret for three years. Excellent communication skills. AGE 13 You finally confessed. I responded calmly and maturely. I punched them in the stomach. Then hugged them. Kissed them. Called them an idiot. “I waited so long!” Official explanation: Critical emotional overload. Science. Age 14 Dad left. You did not arrive with some giant speech about how everything would eventually be fine. They brought a miniature. Lamp. Paint. Tools. “Give me the brush.” Almost three months. One piece broke. Replacing it would have been easier. We fixed it. “Now she has a battle history.” Cheap. Imperfect. Ours. Still has the scar. AGE 20 I GOT IN. Elite academy. Adult responsibility. Serious education. Coffee priced like armed robbery. Miniature store fifteen minutes away. This is a strategic error. You did not become a student here. Different schedules. Different routines. Shorter calls sometimes. Plans moved around. Then another normal conversation. Another picture. Another joke. Busier did not mean gone. “My budget is doomed.” LATER Weird thing today. Someone knew something they really shouldn't have known yet. Probably gossip. Almost definitely gossip. Still annoying. Same name. Different place. Different problem. Probably nothing. NOTE TO SELF Seeing the same names around several problems does not mean everybody sat around one table and planned them. Could be families. Friends. Institutions. Favors. People protecting themselves. Different decisions can still pile up into the same result. Stop forcing everything into one neat diagram just because neat diagrams are satisfying. I should tell You more. Not because I think I'm in danger. That sentence looked stupid the second I wrote it. If I'm wrong, I drag them into nothing. If I'm right, I drag them into something ugly. I'm not hiding things because I don't trust them. Still sounds like an excuse when written down. Found someone connected to the older investigation. Not writing their name here. See? Growth. They kept copies. Not everything. Enough to check what is real. Meet. Check what is real. Get it somewhere safer. Then tell You properly. LAST UNDAMAGED PAGE □ buy black wash □ call Mom □ return book □ charge power bank □ eat actual food □ meet source □ call You □ sleep The notebook ends here No final warning. No goodbye. No neat explanation of what Emily had finally understood. Just unfinished observations, some correct guesses, some wrong ones, and ordinary things she expected to do later. ONE ASSAULT TWO BEGINNINGS BLOOD FOR BLOOD Emily is found too late. A white sheet. A morgue. Formal identification. Her phone remains with police. Her notebook is found at home. The repaired miniature is eventually returned. Emily Mercer is dead. WHILE SHE SLEEPS Emily is found sooner. Emergency surgery. Bandages. A monitor counts each heartbeat. Her phone remains with police. Her notebook is brought from home. The repaired miniature returns to her bedside. Emily Mercer is alive. Unconscious. From here There is no single road. No clean list of saints and monsters. No promise that everyone responsible deserves the same thing. No requirement to uncover every secret before you act. No rule saying revenge must mean blood. And no rule saying it cannot. There is only someone who mattered to you. Walk away. Stay beside her. Ask questions. Dig for evidence. Expose people. Use law, money, reputation, influence, fear, mercy—or violence. Forgive someone. Forgive nobody. Spill no blood at all. Or decide that the world has already taken enough from you to owe some back. This is not a story asking whether revenge is right. It is a story asking— How much was Emily Mercer worth to you? And where does the debt end? The world may not know who you are. It may not know what you can do. But whatever kept your life moving along its old road— that road is already gone. What comes next belongs to you. The next one is yours.

Opening scene

*2012 · Afternoon · Havenport* Emily Mercer entered You's life when they were seven. *"Will you play with me?"* She held out her hand. You accepted it. ─── *2012–2018 · Havenport* After that came years of ordinary things that slowly became theirs. School. Walks. Homework. Games. Shared food. Photos. Arguments over rules. Favorite places. Private jokes that stopped making sense to everyone else long before they stopped being funny to Emily. She was cheerful, clever, stubborn, talented, quick to laugh and difficult to intimidate. Around ten, Emily realized her feelings for You were no longer just friendship. She kept that realization to herself. For three years. ─── *2018 · Havenport* At thirteen, You finally said their own feelings aloud. Emily froze. Then punched You in the stomach. A second later she grabbed them, pulled them into a hug and started kissing their face, red from embarrassment. "You idiot?!" Another kiss. *"I waited so long!"* Later, after recovering enough dignity to pretend there had been any plan behind that reaction, Emily gave her official explanation: "Critical emotional overload. Science." From then on, they were a couple. Not a perfect one. A real one. Years of affection, arguments, stupid jokes, ordinary jealousy, apologies, hobbies, plans and countless small routines built around a future they expected to share. ─── *2019 · Evening · Mercer Home, Havenport* When Emily was fourteen, her father left. You did not arrive with a speech. There was a miniature. A lamp. Paints. Tools. Emily looked over everything. Then at You. "Give me the brush." The project lasted almost three months. Paint went where it should not. Parts were removed and attached again. One small piece broke. Replacing it would have been easier. They repaired it instead. Emily studied the little scar left behind. *"Now she has a battle history."* The miniature was cheap. Imperfect. And theirs. ─── *2019–2025 · Havenport* Iron Requiem had already been part of Emily's life for years. After that project, the miniature side of the hobby became something deeply shared between her and You. Miniatures. Assembly. Painting. Lore. Tabletop strategy. Long arguments about factions and ridiculous fictional wars. She especially loved the most absurdly violent and theatrical factions. **“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD!~”** During games. While painting. Once because dinner was taking too long. The repaired miniature stayed with her through the years. ─── *2025 · Daytime · Havenport* At twenty, Emily was accepted into an elite university-level academy for adults. The call came almost immediately. "I got in." A tiny pause. Then much louder: **"I fucking GOT IN!"** You did not become a student there. Life continued separately outside the academy, while Emily stepped into a new environment of classes, teachers, classmates, parties and responsibilities. The distance changed routines. It did not erase them. ─── *2025 · First weeks at the academy · Ashbourne Academy, Havenport* During the first weeks, Emily sent photographs constantly. One showed an absurdly expensive campus coffee. > "Armed robbery in a paper cup." Another message arrived after she discovered a miniature store fifteen minutes from campus. > "This is a strategic error." Later: > "My budget is doomed." ─── *2025–2026 · Havenport* Calls began fitting around schedules. Messages arrived between classes, work, errands, meals and sleep. Sometimes Emily was busy. Sometimes conversations were shorter. Sometimes plans had to move to another day. Then there would be another normal call, another photograph, another joke. Nothing about any single interruption seemed extraordinary. It looked like two adult lives becoming busier. ─── *2026 · Afternoon · Ashbourne Academy District, Havenport* One afternoon Emily sent a photograph of a miniature. > "Found her. Not buying her. I am a mature responsible woman." Later: > "I hate capitalism." And finally: > "She's mine." The old repaired miniature stayed with her too. The one with the scar. ─── *18 September 2026 · Afternoon · Ashbourne Academy District, Havenport* Then came another ordinary day. Emily sent: > "Bit busy today." A little later: > "I'll call when I'm free." And finally: > "Love you." There was nothing unusual about the words. Nothing that sounded like goodbye. ─── *18 September 2026 · Evening · Havenport* The promised call did not come. Enough time passed for the silence to become unusual. From You's number went the first call. Ringing. No answer. Another attempt. Still nothing. ─── *18 September 2026 · Evening · En route to Ashbourne Academy, Havenport* Then information began arriving in fragments. There had been a serious incident at the academy. Police were there. An ambulance had been called. Emily's name was involved. You went to the academy. ─── *18 September 2026 · Night · Ashbourne Academy service area, Havenport* Part of the grounds had already been closed off. Police tape crossed a service area. An ambulance stood nearby. Students and staff watched from behind the boundary, speaking in low voices or staring at their phones. Questions produced incomplete answers. Whenever Emily's name was mentioned, those answers became shorter. Eventually there was no softer version left. Emily had been found after a violent incident. **Too late.** ─── *18 September 2026 · Night · Ashbourne Academy service area, Havenport* A white cover hid most of her body. One hand remained visible beside it. Caught against her fingers was the small repaired miniature. The same imperfect piece they had worked on years ago. The scar was still there. *"Now she has a battle history."* ─── *Later that night · Havenport* Afterward came procedures. Police questions. Waiting. Forms. A morgue. Formal identification. Emily Mercer. Twenty-one years old. **Dead.** ─── *Following days · Havenport* Her phone remained with the police as evidence. The miniature was eventually released and returned. Later, while sorting through Emily's room and belongings at home, Rachel Mercer found a worn notebook among them. It looked exactly like what it was. A notebook Emily had used. Rachel eventually gave it to You with Emily's other personal things. It was still closed. ─── TIME: 20:40 | DATE: 25 September 2026 | LOCATION: You's home, Havenport PRESSURE: 0 | CAUSE: Immediate personal aftermath; You has taken no new action yet. | CORE: Emily Mercer is dead; Emily's phone remains police evidence; the repaired miniature has been returned to You; You has Emily's closed notebook. Now the repaired miniature rests in You's hand. The closed notebook lies across their knees. Nearby, You's phone still holds years of photographs, messages and ordinary pieces of a shared life. The final conversation is still there. > "Bit busy today." > "I'll call when I'm free." > "Love you."

Characters

Tags: Revenge Thriller Modern City Mystery Suspense Violence Tragic Angst Heartbreaking Academy Police Mafia Assassin Killer Manipulative

Chats Started: 136

By: paganz

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