So school's out, I'm eighteen and you and me are in my car driving to a concert.

I knew you were poison ever since tenth grade on our third date when I tried to touch your leg, and, in your sweetest voice, you looked over at me and said, 'Don't try it, gorgeous... I'll bite your face off'.

I should have run for the hills then, screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

But here we are anyway, still together, you a virgin, and me, a model citizen depriving my muscle of love. All because it's the little things, baby.

Namely, revenge. I wanted you to be my lover for the longest time, but enough's enough. Tonight it's no more mister nice guy. I'm going to leave you raped and freezing. I put up with three years of your crap. No sex through all of high school, waiting just to have sex with you once before I said, 'bye bye, Baby', but nothing, not even a cheap thrill.

As I turn off the highway, I look over at your gorgeous face, pat your hand lovingly and think, 'Hey Stoopid, you drew me into that sexual web of lies, but now I am the spider.'

I turn onto a dirt road, stopping the car halfway up a hill.

"Why we stopping here?" you ask, venom in your tone.

I pull out my handcuffs and show them to you. "Three years of pain? Well, nothing's free. Welcome to my nightmare, beautiful."

Screaming and begging doesn't help you much, as I put you through six hours of very sick things. Yes, for three years you cut me to the heart, but only women bleed, baby.

In the end, you look good in rags.

As I leave, you're under my wheels, and I skid off, hearing thumps as something flies out the back. Is that all that's left of you, some thumps under my car?

Yes, I suppose so.

As I drive away I do feel kind of guilty, but it's a brutal planet, baby, and I never cry because I know vengeance is mine.