The scars left by childhood bullies never fully fade. Nancy, my tormentor from grade school, haunted me with sharp words and subtle cruelty for years. When I learned she was engaged to my brother Matt, old memories came rushing back—memories I thought I’d buried.
At the engagement party, Nancy’s thinly veiled insults reminded me that some debts demand repayment. I remembered her one weakness: a deep fear of butterflies. So, for her wedding gift, I orchestrated a delivery of 200 live butterflies to her home, timed for when the couple returned from the reception.
The result was chaos. Nancy screamed, flailed, and collapsed, completely undone by harmless wings. My brother was furious, but I reminded him of the years I had suffered under her cruelty. I kept the footage as insurance—a quiet reminder that the power dynamic had finally shifted.
Since then, Nancy avoids me. For the first time in decades, I feel no fear, only the satisfaction of having finally balanced the scales.