Series Revenge Quotes

Revenge proves its own executioner.

My father wrote: "Always question where your loyalties lie. The people you trust will expect it, your greatest enemies will desire it, and those you treasure the most, will, without fail, abuse it.

Justice, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Some see an innocent victim. Others will see evil incarnate getting exactly what's deserved.

If we choose to, we can live in a world of comforting illusions. We can allow ourselves to be deceived by false realities. Or we can use them to hide our true intentions.

In the art of war, if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the approaching battles. But if you know only yourself and not the enemy, for every victory, there will also be defeat.

They say let he who is without sin cast the first stone. And to be without sin requires absolute forgiveness. But when your memories are freshly opened wounds, forgiveness is the most unnatural of human emotions.

Some say that our lives are defined by the sum of our choices. But it isn't really our choices that distinguish who we are. It's our commitment to them.

As Hamlet said to Ophelia, ”God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." The battle between these two halves of identity...Who we are and who we pretend to be, is unwinnable. "Just as there are two sides to every story, there are two sides to every person. One that we reveal to the world and another we keep hidden inside. A duality governed by the balance of light and darkness, within each of us is the capacity for both good and evil. But those who are able to blur the moral dividing line hold the true power.

Some say loyalty inspires boundless hope. And while that may be, there is a catch. True loyalty takes years to build... and only seconds to destroy.

To carry a secret is to play with fire. Try to pass it on and you'd risk hurting someone else. Hold on to it and eventually you'd get burned.

There's an old saying about those who cannot remember the past being condemned to repeat it. But those of us who refuse to forget the past are condemned to relive it.

Truth is a battle of perceptions. People only see what they're prepared to confront. It's not what you look at that matters, but what you see. And when then different perceptions battle against one another, the truth has a way of getting lost. And the monsters find a way of getting out.

There comes a moment in each of our lives when the control that keeps us sane slips through our fingers. Most of us aim to seize it back. The best way to fight chaos is with chaos.

Over time, we commit acts with intentions, either good or bad, that require forgiveness.

They say grief occurs in five stages. First there's denial followed by anger. Then comes bargaining, depression and acceptance. But grief is a merciless master. Just when you think you're free you realize you never stood a chance.

The greatest weapon anyone can use against us is our own mind. By preying upon the doubts and uncertainities that already lurk there. Are we true to ourselves or do we live to the expectations of others? And if we are open and honest, can we ever truly be loved? Can we find the courage to release our deepest secrets? Or in the end are we all unknowable even to ourselves.

Chaos... by its very definition cannot be controlled. Once introduced, all order and intention is rendered useless. The outcome of chaos can never be predicted. The only certainty it brings... is the devastation it leaves in its wake.

Doubt is a disease that infects the mind creating a mistrust of peoples motives and ones own perceptions. Doubt has the ability to call into questions everything you ever believed about someone and reinforce the darkest suspicions of our inner circle.

In a race between danger and indecision, the difference between life and death comes down to confidence. Faith in our abilities, certainty in ourselves and the trust we put in others.

We all have secrets we keep locked away from the rest of the world... Friendships we pretend... Relationships we hide... But worst of all... Love we never let show. The most dangerous secrets a person can bury are those we keep from ourselves

Some think intuition is a gift, but it can be a curse as well--a voice calling to us from places that are better left unexplored...an echo of memories that will never die, no matter how hard we try to kill them.

In it's purest form, an act of retribution provides symmetry. The rendering payment of crimes against the innocent. But a danger on retaliation lies on the furthering cycle of violence. Still, it's a risk that must be met; and the greater offense is to allow the guilty go unpunished.

Power can be hoarded by the mighty or stolen from the innocent.Power provides the ability to choose. But has a proclivity for corruption. The use of power is not to be taken lightly, for it is never without consequence.

Nature can be cruel. Predators are everywhere. Those who don't need to be protected from outside forces often need to be protected from themselves. In society, women are referred to as "the fairer sex". But in the wild, the female species can be far more ferocious than their male counterparts. Defending the nest is both our oldest and strongest instinct. And sometimes, it can also be the most gratifying.

Trust is a difficult thing, whether it's finding the right people to trust...Or trusting the right people will do the wrong thing. But trusting your heart...is the riskiest thing of all.In the end,the only person we can truly trust... is ourself.

The past is a tricky thing. Sometimes it's etched in stone. And other times, it's rendered in soft memories. But if you meddle too long in deep, dark things... Who knows what monsters you'll awaken?

In every life, there comes a day of reckoning - a time when unsettled scores demand retribution, and our own lies and transgressions are finally laid bare.

Every human is born of collusion. We come into this world the result of a covenant. Sometimes made of love, Sometimes of circumstance. But almost always made in secret.

Engagement can be a commitment to love or a declaration of war. One must enter every battle without hesitation, willing to fully engage the enemy until death do you apart.

In Revenge, as in life, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In the end the guilty always fall.

For the righteous, the revelation is a joyous event, the realization of a divine truth. But for the wicked, revelations can be far more terrifying, when dark secrets are exposed and sinners are punished for their trespasses.

For those who believe in resurrection, death is inconsequential. It's not an ending but rather a new beginning. A second chance, a reunion. The very idea of resurrection is so seductive a concept it's easy to forget, before you can rise from the dead you have to spend a few days in hell.

It's been written that a lover is apt to be as full of secrets from himself as is the object of his love from him.

In the moment we're born, we're drawn to form a union with others. An abiding drive to connect, to love, to belong. In a perfect union, we find the strength we cannot find in ourselves. But the strength of the union cannot be known until it is tested.

To properly do penance one must express contrition for one’s sins and perform acts to repair the damage caused by those transgressions. It is only when those acts are complete that the slate can truly be wiped clean and amnesty gives way to a new beginning.

For the innocent, the past may hold a reward, but for the treacherous it's only a matter of time before the past delivers what they truly deserve.

When at a crossroads, my father was fond of saying “go with your gut.” “Intuition,” he said, “always has our best interests at heart.” It is a voice that can tell us who is friend and who is foe…Which ones to hold at arm’s length…And which ones to keep close. But too often, we become distracted by fear, doubt, our own stubborn hopes, and refuse to listen.

Darkness scares us. We yearn for the comfort of light as it provides shape and form, allowing us to recognize and define what's before us. But what is it we're afraid of really? Not the darkness itself, but the truth we know hides within.

Sacrifice demands the surrender of things we cherish above all else. Only out of the agony of those loses can a new resolution be born. An undying devotion to a cause greater than one’s self, and a moral duty to see a journey through to its absolute completion.

In its purest form, a union becomes part of our very essence. And when that bond is broken, our essence is forever changed.

Absolution is the most powerful form of forgiveness. A full pardon from suspicion and accountability. It's the liberation of a stolen future. A future my father never lived to see. Absolution is a mercy the people who killed him will never know.

Power...Born out of nature, Coveted by men; Wars rage on, And victors are crowned. But true power can never be lost or won. True power comes from within.

Destiny. To believe that a life is meant for a single purpose, one must also believe in a common fate. Father to daughter, brother to sister, mother to child. Blood ties can be as unyielding as they are eternal. But it is our bonds of choice that truly light the road we travel. Love versus hatred. Loyalty against betrayal. A person's true destiny can only be revealed at the end of his journey, and the story I have to tell is far from over.

Like life, revenge can be a messy business... And both would be much simpler if only our heads could figure out which way our hearts will go. But the heart has its reasons, of which reason cannot know.

For the average person leading an ordinary life, fame holds an hypnotic attraction. Many would sooner perish than exist in anonymity. But for the unlucky few who've had notoriety forced upon them, infamy can be a sentence more damning than any prison term

They say vengeance taken will tear the heart and torment the conscious. If there's any truth to it, then I now know with certainty that the path I'm on is the right one.

Clarence Darrow, one of history's greatest lawyers, once noted "There is no such thing as justice, in or out of court." Perhaps because justice is a flawed concept that ultimately comes down to the decision of twelve people. People with their own experiences, prejudices, feelings about what defines right and wrong. Which is why, when the system fails us, we must go out and seek our own justice.

All too often, we mask truth in artifice, concealing ourselves for fear of losing the ones we love or prolonging a deception for those we wish to expose. We hide behind that which brings us comfort from pain and sadness or use it to repel a truth too devastating to accept.

Sacrifice by its strictest definition takes something precious in exchange for the appeasement of a higher power. And abiding devotion to a cause that cannot be satisfied with a simple promise. Because an oath no matter how solemn asks nothing in return. While true sacrifice demands unspeakable loss.

Absolution is the washing away of sin. The promise of rebirth. And the chance to escape the transgressions of those who came before us. The best among us will learn from the mistakes of the past, while the rest seem doomed to repeat them. And then there are those who operate on the fringes of society, unburdened by the confines of morality and conscience. A ruthless breed of monsters whose deadliest weapon is their ability to hide in plain sight. If the people I've come to bring justice to cannot be bound by the quest for absolution, then neither will I.

A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not why ships were built.

Revenge is a dish best served cold. It means they forget you're coming for them, and their screams sound so much prettier when the time finally comes.

Some say that to believe in destiny is to dismiss the role of free will. That self-determination cannot prevail in the presence of fate. When the truth is, the only part of destiny we can control is the fate we choose for another.

When everything you love has been stolen from you, sometimes all you have left is revenge.Sometimes, the innocent get hurt. But one by one, the guilty will pay. Nothing ever goes exactly as you expect. And mistakes are life and death. Collateral damage is inescapable.

A person's true identity can often be difficult to discern, even to themselves, causing one to question their character, their calling, their very existence. For most, time gives clarity, but for others, these questions remained unanswered for an identity can not be fully defined when it is a guarded secret.

Just as there are two sides to every story, there are two sides to every person. One that we reveal to the world and another we keep hidden inside. A duality governed by the balance of light and darkness. Within each of us is the capacity for both good and evil. But those of us who are able to blur the moral dividing line hold the true power.

Penance is a sacrifice, a voluntary punishment to show remorse for a sin. The more grievous the sin, the greater the self-inflicted suffering. For some, the ultimate penance is death. But for others, it simply a means to an end.

•Engagement can be a commitment to love or a declaration of war. One must enter every battle without hesitation, willing to fully engage the enemy until death do you apart.

Every human is born of collusion. We come into this world the result of a covenant. Sometimes made of love. Sometimes of circumstance. But almost always made in secret.

Duress impacts relationships in one of two ways. It either tears people apart... binding them tightly in a common objective.

For those who believe in the resurrection, death is inconsequential. In the resurrection, those that were dead live, and those who live believe they shall never die.

They say the best laid plans often go a lie, Because no matter how detailed the preparation, A plan will always have a weak point and there will always be those looking to exploit it. To do into the plan failure and the perpetrator along with it.

No, enjoy it while you can.” Esther said as she walked out alone.

Defence lawyers use the term "duress" to describe the use of force, coercion or psychological pressure exerted on a client in the commission of a crime. When duress is applied to the emotionally unstable the result can be as violent as it is unpredictable.

To successfully create illusion, the first thing you need is trust, but to perfect an illusion, the false reality most appear as authentic as the one it hides. Careful attention must be paid to every detail. The slightest of imperfections can, like a pin to a balloon, burst the illusion . . . and the truth behind the illusion becomes revealed.

When I was a little girl my understanding of revenge was as simple as the Sunday school proverbs it hid behind. Neat little morality slogans like, do un to others and two wrongs don't make a right. But two wrongs can never make a right because; two wrongs can never equal each other. For the truly wronged real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places, absolute forgiveness or mortal vindication. This is not a story about forgiveness.

They say the best laid plans often go a lie. Because no matter how detailed the preparation, a plan will always have a weak point and there will always be those looking to exploit it. To do into the plan failure and the perpetrator along with it.

Revelations help us accept the things we need the most, expose the secrets we so desperately try to hide and illuminate the dangers all around us. But more than anything, revelations are windows into our true selves... of the good and the evil and those wavering somewhere in between. But they have the ultimate power to destroy all that we cherish most.

You could make any man forget his years. When I saw you arrive in your lovely dress, I was conquered. If you don’t wish to dance anymore perhaps we could chat?” - David Walton

and still I stayed to plan all my revenge, my vengeance against those who had turned me from good to evil, and made of me what I was going to be from this day forward.

Revenge is a dish best served cold... Now that I agree with. It means they forget you're coming for them, and their screams sound so much prettier when the time finally comes.

It means no telling any of your horrible scary stories. Do not start a food fight and do not get any of your bright ideas. Got it?

I certainly don’t have any interest in being on a dark veranda with any man except my husband, unlike some women do.” - Esther Norman

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Geraldine, don't do it," I said.

Don't get caught," Ava replied.

Geraldine sighed, taking it all in.

*waves hello*

It is not our place to take revenge, but rather to leave it to the Almighty.

I don't want power. I just want things back the way they were, back to the good old days when we didn't have to be polite to Nazis.

Summer continued. "My older sister was a Junior Silver Rose. She told me that it's tradition that the pledges pull a prank on Mrs. Armstrong the night of the retreat. She only lives two blocks from here. We think you should do it. It will help restore your standing with us.

Narcissistic fathers leave their daughters with deep doubts about whether a man can love them, since the first important man in their life was so in love with himself that he had no love left for them. If you are a daughter of a narcissistic father you may have withdrawn from men and bound yourself to mother, either overtly or emotionally. Or you may be engaged in a self-destructive attempt to be his kind of girl, whatever that is, as you try desperately to extract his love. Perhaps you have transferred this into a masochistic position with other men, finding a narcissistic man incredibly attractive as you try to master the mystery of winning his love. And narcissistic men appeal to you because you wish you could be that way yourself - assertive, not giving a damn, self-important - but you lack the confidence to do it yourself so you identify with the man who has their quality, even if it's at your expense. (I have often seen this revealed in those instances where a woman has suffered through a degradingly submissive and abusing relationship with a man, or a series of men, and then, gaining the strength to break that kind of bondage, violently overturns the tables and abuses that man, or the next man in her life, as degradingly as she was misused. It's not just revenge, but the release of hidden desire to be powerful and to be able to control father and make him beg for her love.)

The last five years had been a series of carefully orchestrated events. Every move, every strategy had been poured over in painstaking detail before it was set into motion. Pieces on a chess board. A collision of fate and circumstance. I’d planned for every hitch. Every contingency. Except the one that blindsided me like a vat of acid to the face. I fell in love with her.

The freest people, like the freest man, is always in danger of re-lapsing into servitude. Wars are almost always fatal to Republics. They create tyrants, and consolidate their power. They spring, for the most part, from evil counsels. When the small and the base are intrusted with power, legislation and administration become but two parallel series of errors and blunders, ending in war, calamity, and the necessity for a tyrant. When the nation feels its feet sliding backward, as if it walked on the ice, the time has come for a supreme effort. The magnificent tyrants of the past are but the types of those of the future. Men and nations will always sell themselves into slavery, to gratify their passions and obtain revenge. The tyrant's plea, necessity, is always available; and the tyrant once in power, the necessity of providing for his safety makes him savage. Religion is a power, and he must control that. Independent, its sanctuaries might rebel. Then it becomes unlawful for the people to worship God in their own way, and the old spiritual despotisms revive.

You are the belle of the ball tonight.” He said as he moved in closer. “How can you be so sinfully beautiful Mrs. Norman?

Mary Frost sure looks fabulous tonight.” He murmured. “Your husband seems to have a crush on her.

She knew what the laugh implied, and it angered her. “Mrs. Wells don’t you be getting any ideas about my husband.

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Revenge is sweet, but icecream is sweeter" - Folk of the air

No woman in the history of humanity has ever found a comfortable way of dressing herself after sex.

Then out of the dust and sand came the crabs, unharmed and infuriated, scuttling forward in search of revenge!

Are you going to do it or not?" Summer asked impatiently. "Because if you're not, any other girl in this room would love to take your place." Summer looked around the room. "Who'd like to do it instead?" Everyone's hands shot up except for mine and Amber's. "No, I'll do it," Geraldine said confidently. "What's the prank?" That might have been a good question to ask before committing to it.

Summer hugged her knees to her chest. "Every year they pull the same pranks, they either egg or t.p. Armstrong's house. She's expecting it. This year we need to do something special, something that's going to make history." "W-what's that?" Geraldine stammered. Hannah pulled a heavy plastic bag from her duffle. "You're going to spray paint her lawn silver." "That's going to make her really mad and she already doesn't like me," Geraldine said.

Go to Zillicks down the block. It has three booths at the back. Go in the middle one and wait. When you lamp me turning the pages of the directory outside, shove your money in the return-coin slot and walk out. Take it easy. Don't let the druggist see you. Your stuff'll be there when you go back for it. If you're even a dime short don't show up, it won't do ya no good. Twelve o'clock tonight.' 'Twelve o'clock;' Fisher agreed. They separated. How many a seemingly casual street-corner conversation like that on the city's streets has just such an unguessed, sinister topic. Murder, theft, revenge, narcotics. While the crowd goes by around it unaware. ("I'm Dangerous Tonight")

The character and the play of Hamlet are central to any discussion of Shakespeare's work. Hamlet has been described as melancholic and neurotic, as having an Oedipus complex, as being a failure and indecisive, as well as being a hero, and a perfect Renaissance prince. These judgements serve perhaps only to show how many interpretations of one character may be put forward. 'To be or not to be' is the centre of Hamlet's questioning. Reasons not to go on living outnumber reasons for living. But he goes on living, until he completes his revenge for his father's murder, and becomes 'most royal', the true 'Prince of Denmark' (which is the play's subtitle), in many ways the perfection of Renaissance man. Hamlet's progress is a 'struggle of becoming' - of coming to terms with life, and learning to accept it, with all its drawbacks and challenges. He discusses the problems he faces directly with the audience, in a series of seven soliloquies - of which 'To be or not to be' is the fourth and central one. These seven steps, from the zero-point of a desire not to live, to complete awareness and acceptance (as he says, 'the readiness is all'), give a structure to the play, making the progress all the more tragic, as Hamlet reaches his aim, the perfection of his life, only to die.

Inside, there was a bed, and upon the bed there was a woman. More beautiful was she even than the damask rose while her scent, drifting through the open window, was that of the night dew. Her hair was silken as the raven's wing. Quite naked, she lay, so still upon the bed, her eyes closed in reverie. The young man looked first upon her breasts, where her hand rested. And upon each breast, there was a rosebud nipple. Upon each nipple there was a tip most tender. Upon each tip there was a milky drop. Chin lifted, lips parted, she milked her maiden breast. 'What I would give to suckle at that teat,' thought he. from 'Against Faithlessness' in Cautionary Tales

The sun goes down and it's night-time in New Orleans. The moon rises, midnight chimes from St. Louis cathedral, and hardly has the last note died away than a gruesome swampland whistle sounds outside the deathly still house. A fat Negress, basket on arm, comes trudging up the stairs a moment later, opens the door, goes in to the papaloi, closes it again, traces an invisible mark on it with her forefinger and kisses it. Then she turns and her eyes widen with surprise. Papa Benjamin is in bed, covered up to the neck with filthy rags. The familiar candles are all lit, the bowl for the blood, the sacrificial knife, the magic powders, all the paraphernalia of the ritual are laid out in readiness, but they are ranged about the bed instead of at the opposite end of the room as usual. The old man's head, however, is held high above the encumbering rags, his beady eyes gaze back at her unflinchingly, the familiar semicircle of white wool rings his crown, his ceremonial mask is at his side. 'I am a little tired, my daughter,' he tells her. His eyes stray to the tiny wax image of Eddie Bloch under the candles, hairy with pins, and hers follow them. 'A doomed one, nearing his end, came here last night thinking I could be killed like other men. He shot a bullet from a gun at me. I blew my breath at it, it stopped in the air, turned around, and went back in the gun again. But it tired me to blow so hard, strained my voice a little.' A revengeful gleam lights up the woman's broad face. 'And he'll die soon, papaloi?' 'Soon,' cackles the weazened figure in the bed. The woman gnashes her teeth and hugs herself delightedly. ("Papa Benjamin" aka "Dark Melody Of Madness")

Despite such experiences Houdini never developed what we think of as a political consciousness. He could not reason from his own hurt feelings. To the end he would be almost totally unaware of the design of his career, the great map of revolution laid out by his life. He was a Jew. His real name was Erich Weiss. He was passionately in love with his ancient mother whom he had installed in his brownstone home on West 113th Street. In fact Sigmund Freud had just arrived in America to give a series of lectures at Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts, and so Houdini was destined to be, with Al Jolson, the last of the great shameless mother lovers, a nineteenth-century movement that included such men as Poe, John Brown, Lincoln, and James McNeill Whistler. Of course Freud's immediate reception in America was not auspicious. A few professional alienists understood his importance, but to most of the public he appeared as some kind of German sexologist, an exponent of free love who used big words to talk about dirty things. At least a decade would have to pass before Freud would have his revenge and see his ideas begin to destroy sex in America for ever.

I couldn’t wait to follow through. I couldn’t wait to end this. “Your revenge?” Matthias laughed. “You’re revenge? What could you possibly do that would make any difference to me?” I looked up at Kane and he looked down at me. I smiled at him sweetly and he smiled back. I leaned in and he mirrored me. I tilted my face up to kiss him and he gladly reciprocated. Then I pulled back and swiveled my gaze to Matthias. “I will take your family away. Just like you took mine. I will pluck them from you one by one and make them suffer until they beg for death. Or, I will simply rescue them and give them a better life than you ever could.” Matthias barked out a louder laugh. “That’s sweet. It sounds like you’ve put thought into all that, but you can’t. It’s just not possible. “Sure it is,” I told him. “I’ve already gotten two of your children. Tyler isn’t here.” I gestured at Tyler. “Tyler will never be here. Unless you count that. Which being a self-respecting person, I wouldn’t. But who knows about you. And Miller isn’t here either. Miller is worse than Tyler. Look! You got Tyler to come to breakfast, but I seem to have forgotten Miller’s excuse. Could you remind me?” He stayed quiet. Which was a miracle in itself. So I continued, “I’m waiting for the right opportunity for Linley. I’ve been waiting for it for a while now. I’ve been watching her and watching her and just waiting. I cannot wait until I get her alone. I cannot wait until it’s just the two of us. It will be so fun. It’s what helps get me through these long days. Just thoughts of Linley. Just thoughts of what I will do to her and how slowly I will make those last painful moments last. And Kane? I could take him in a second. I could rip him out of your hands so fast you would blink and he would be gone. He might deny that if you ask him. But I know better. I hear everything else he says. I feel everything else he means. Kane is mine. You’re a smart man, Matthias, so don’t think for a second he isn’t. Right?” I turned to Kane. He leaned down again and kissed me. Point proved. I relaxed into Kane and let my threats soothe my soul and settle over the man I wanted to watch burn in hell. His reply was an arrogant smirk and hard eyes. “Little girl, you just asked for trouble, I’m-” “Do it,” I hissed. “Do whatever it is you want to do and see if I’m bluffing. Try me! Hurt someone I love. Hurt me. Take something away from me and see how painfully and how permanently I take something away from you.” I stood up and pushed aggressively away from the table. I stared him down the entire time. Kane let me go without even an attempt to restrain me. I was beyond that. I was beyond all of this. I was leaving. Today. Because without a doubt I would follow through with every single one of my threats. I stomped from the warehouse. I could feel Kane behind me, but he still didn’t try to slow me down. And I knew he wouldn’t. He really was mine. Matthias, Hendrix, nobody could take him from me. And he would do whatever I wanted as long as he thought we could survive. I hoped both of us could survive what I was about to ask him to do.

Geraldine nodded and headed for Mrs. Armstrong's lawn. I felt sorry for her in her carrot pajamas, having no idea what was really going on. I followed the other girls and stood behind the shrubs. Mrs. Armstrong's house was ginormous. Her house was even bigger than Aunt Jeanie's. There was one light on upstairs. I figured that was the bedroom. The rest of the house was dark. Geraldine went to the far end of the yard and removed a can of spray paint from the bag. She shook it and began to spray. "She's such an idiot," Ava said, taking out her phone to record Geraldine's act of vandalism. "You guys are going to get her into so much trouble," I said. "So what?" Hannah replied. "She got us in trouble at the soup kitchen, it's not like she's ever going to become a Silver Rose anyway. She's totally wasting her time." Geraldine slowly made her way up and down the huge yard carefully spraying the grass. It would take her forever to complete it and there wasn't nearly enough spray paint. "Hey, guys!" Geraldine yelled from across the lawn. "How about I spray a rose in the grass? That would be cool, right?" I cringed. The light on upstairs meant the Armstrongs were still awake. Geraldine was about to get us all caught. "O-M-G," Hannah moaned. "Shhhh," Summer hissed, but Geraldine kept screaming at the top of her lungs. "Well, what do you guys think?" My heart dropped into my stomach as a light from downstairs clicked on. We ducked behind the hedges and froze. "Who's out there?" called a man's voice. I couldn't see him and I couldn't see Geraldine. I heard the door close and I peeked over the hedges. "He went back inside," I whispered, ducking back down. At that moment something went shk-shk-shk and Geraldine screamed. We all stood to see what was happening. Someone had turned the sprinklers on and Geraldine was getting soaked. The door flew open and I heard Mrs. Armstrong's voice followed by a dog's vicious barking. "Get 'em, Killer!" "Killer!" Ava screamed and we all took off running down the street with a soggy Geraldine trailing behind us. I was faster than all the other girls. I had no intentions of being gobbled up by a dog named Killer. We stopped running when we got to Ava's street and Killer was nowhere in sight. We walked back to the house at a normal pace. "So, did I prove myself to the sisterhood?" Geraldine asked. Hannah turned to her. "Are you kidding me? Your yelling woke them up, you moron. We got chased down the street by a dog because of you." Geraldine frowned and looked down at the ground. Hopefully what I had told her before about the girls not being her friends was starting to settle in. Inside all the other girls wanted to know what had happened. Ava was giving them the gory details when a knock on the door interrupted her. It was Mrs. Armstrong. She had on a black bathrobe and her hair was in curlers. I chuckled to myself because I was used to seeing her look absolutely perfect. We all sat on our sleeping bags looking as innocent as possible except for Geraldine who still stood awkwardly by the door, dripping wet. Mrs. Armstrong cleared her throat. "Someone has just vandalized my lawn with spray paint. Silver spray paint. Since I know it's a tradition for the Silver Roses to pull a prank on me on the night of the retreat, I'm going to assume it was one of you. More specifically, the one who's soaking wet right now." All eyes went to Geraldine. She looked at the ground and said nothing. What could she possibly say to defend herself? She even had silver spray paint on her fingers. Mrs. Armstrong looked her up and down. "Young lady, this is your second strike and that's two strikes too many. Your bid to become a Junior Silver Rose is for the second time hereby revoked." Geraldine's shoulders drooped, but most of the girls were smirking. This had been their plan all along and they had accomplished it.