[10:58 PM]

Quiet laughter erupts in the silence of the empty street, your figures taking cover in the darkness that was only made less severe by a distant lamp post.

“You’re pure evil, Y/N,” Mark whispered in between snickers, watching as you sloppily dipped a brush into a can of red paint, making the excess splatter on the floor and drip down the bumper of the rather pristine white Lamborghini before you.

“I’ve never crossed anyone who didn’t deserve it,” you replied with a smirk as you painted two words on the hood: FACE.

Your best friend was on the look out as you carried out your revenge on your cheating boyfriend, by tomorrow, officially your ex. He didn’t know that you knew, and he sure as hell wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Hurry,” Mark told you frantically.

You then poured the rest of paint on every other available surface of the car you could reach, relishing the prospect of the owner’s reaction the moment he finds out about the fate of his beloved ride.

You then turned to face Mark, grinning as you bowed elaborately like a conductor after an orchestra concert.

“Let’s go,” you told him, taking him by the hand after discarding the now empty paint can on the well-kept rose bushes.

You both made a mad dash out of the property, but you let go of his hand in the middle of it, running ahead of him until your lungs hurt. You’ve kept your aplomb well until that time, and as opposed to how everyone