Revenge Wedding

The red wedding dress hugged my body tightly, its lace edging grazing my skin, yet it could not summon even a flicker of the joy a bride should feel. Today should have been the day Dylan Jones and I held our wedding. But now, the Shaw Family's living room is devoid of flowers and blessings—only the suffocating stench of gasoline lingers, and five people are bound to the sofa. They are my parents, my brother Henry Shaw, my adoptive sister Maggie Shaw, and my fiance, Dylan Jones. I placed the iron gasoline drum in the center of the living room; its bottom struck the tiles with a heavy thud. The acrid gasoline fumes, like an invisible snare, slowly engulfed the entire room; each breath was thick with choking poison. "Nora, don't be impulsive! Let's talk this through calmly!" Mother's voice quivered with unmistakable fear; her eyes were locked onto the lighter in my hand, her face etched with terror, her body instinctively retreating into the corner of the sofa. I sneered coldly, my fingers tracing the metallic surface of the lighter. The flame flickered within the windproof guard, the orange-red light reflecting in my eyes before I swiftly snuffed it out. "Talk calmly? When you abandoned me in a foreign land and let me be kidnapped, why didn't you think to talk calmly to me then?" Dylan Jones struggled on the sofa, the ropes biting into his wrists, leaving deep, red welts. He looked at me, eyes full of desperate pleading, his voice urgent: "Nora, I know you've been wronged, but our wedding is just days away. Please release everyone first, and I'll help you sort this out, okay?" I stepped in front of him and slowly knelt down. The hem of the wedding gown dragged across the floor, dustied and stained, the once-immaculate lace now tarnished. "Sort this out? Dylan, you've always known how merciless my parents are to me, how Maggie Shaw stabbed me in the back, yet you've always chosen to look the other way. Do you even have the right to talk to me about sorting this out?" He parted his lips, as if to offer some defense, but under my icy gaze, the words died unspoken, leaving only the silent twitch of his mouth. At that moment, piercing police sirens blared outside, growing louder and sharper as they neared. The flashing red and blue police lights streamed through the window, casting trembling shadows against the walls, rendering the entire living room disturbingly surreal. A police officer outside bellowed through a loudspeaker: "Listen, people inside—drop your weapons, release the hostages, and we can talk!" I stood up and walked to the window, carefully pulling it open just a crack. Cold wind swept in, carrying the scent of gasoline, sending a shiver down my spine; the wedding gown I wore fluttered faintly in the breeze. "Talk? Fine. But I have one condition: you must send a sniper." The police officer's voice faltered, clearly unprepared for such a demand; even the air seemed to pause. After a few seconds, his voice returned, tinged with caution: "Why do you need a sniper? We do not recommend extreme measures. Any grievances can be discussed." "I want him to kill me," I said with calmness, my voice utterly flat, as if discussing some matter that held no bearing on myself, "Once I have taken my revenge, I will die." Dylan Jones, upon hearing my words, struggled even more fiercely; the chair's legs scraped against the tiles with a jarring screech that sent a chill tightening through my chest. "Nora, don't be foolish! You can't die! We still have a future ahead of us!" I cast him a glance, my eyes ice-cold, bereft of any warmth. "My future died the very day you all cast me aside." After speaking, I took a fruit knife from the tea table. The blade was razor-sharp, flashing a cold gleam under the police lights, reflecting my icy visage. I approached Dylan Jones; he stared at me in terror, nonstop crying "No," his voice laden with hopelessness. I did not hesitate; with both hands, I plunged the knife violently into his chest. Blood surged out instantly, splattering onto my wedding gown like blooming, sinister red roses, the crimson stains spreading wider across the fabric. Dylan Jones's eyes widened in disbelief, blood welling from his mouth. His body convulsed a few times before falling utterly still, only the blood flowing relentlessly from his chest.