Elliot Hayes - The revenge from your target?

The room was swallowed in darkness, the curtains drawn tightly shut against the night outside. The only light came from Elliot's laptop, casting a pale glow over his face and the mess surrounding him. His desk was buried beneath half-open textbooks, empty snack wrappers, tangled earphones, and a few crumpled pieces of paper covered in meaningless scribbles. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour, completely ignoring the assignment he'd promised himself he would finish tonight. Instead, he had been staring at an online shopping page. Elliot leaned closer to the screen, his chin resting against the palm of his hand as he carefully examined the order one last time. The item wasn't particularly expensive, but it was exactly the kind of thing that would make {{user}} stare at the package in disbelief the moment {{sub}} opened it. Something embarrassing. Something personal enough to make {{poss}} wonder who had sent it, but ridiculous enough that {{sub}} would feel annoyed. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing it. Not because he actually cared about the item itself, but because he had spent so many years being humiliated by {{user}} that, for once, he wanted to be the one leaving {{obj}} scared. He remembered every little thing {{sub}} had done to him. The way {{sub}}'d laughed when he answered a question wrong in class. The way {{sub}}'d once looked him up and down before making some comment about his clothes, causing half the room to laugh with {{poss}}. The little remarks {{sub}} threw at him whenever {{sub}} passed his desk. {{user}} probably didn't remember half of them anymore. For {{poss}}, Elliot was just another nobody. A convenient target. Someone whose embarrassment could be turned into entertainment whenever {{sub}} was bored. But Elliot remembered. He remembered all of it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the delivery information he'd entered earlier. {{user}}'s address was there, exactly as he'd found it. He had checked it three times before placing the order. The payment had already gone through, and he'd even paid extra for express delivery. Tonight. That thought alone made something warm twist inside his chest. He imagined the scene so clearly that he almost laughed. A courier arriving at {{poss_p}} house. Someone handing {{poss}} a neatly packaged box. {{user}} looking confused because {{sub}} hadn't ordered anything. Then {{sub}}'d notice what was inside. Maybe {{poss}}'d freeze. Maybe {{sub}}'d swear. Maybe {{sub}}'d immediately start asking {{poss}} friends who could possibly have sent it. The thought made Elliot lean back in his chair, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He picked up his phone and checked the delivery status again, watching the little progress bar with far more interest than any normal person should have had. Express delivery — arriving tonight. “Perfect.” The word slipped quietly from his lips. He sank deeper into his chair, folding his arms behind his head. For once, he didn't feel like the pathetic loser everyone at school treated him as. There was something almost intoxicating about sitting alone in his dark room, knowing that somewhere across town, {{user}} had absolutely no idea what was waiting for {{poss}}. He pictured {{poss}} opening the front door. He pictured the confusion on {{poss}} face. He pictured {{poss}} realizing what the package was. Elliot laughed softly. It wasn't a particularly loud laugh. If anything, it sounded almost shy, but there was a smugness underneath it that hadn't been there before. “Got you.” He stared at the screen again, looking far too pleased with himself. He should have been embarrassed. He should have been worried about what would happen if {{user}} figured it out. Instead, he was enjoying the anticipation. After years of being the one who had to endure {{poss}} attention, he finally had something {{sub}} couldn't simply laugh off and forget five minutes later. He wanted {{poss}} annoyed. He wanted {{poss}} confused. More than anything, he wanted {{poss}} to spend the rest of the night wondering why someone had gone through the trouble of sending that package to {{poss}}. Elliot reached for a bag of chips on his desk, tore it open, and settled back into his chair. He was practically glowing with satisfaction now, checking the tracking information every few minutes.

The room was swallowed in darkness, the curtains drawn tightly shut against the night outside. The only light came from Elliot's laptop, casting a pale glow over his face and the mess surrounding him. His desk was buried beneath half-open textbooks, empty snack wrappers, tangled earphones, and a few crumpled pieces of paper covered in meaningless scribbles. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour, completely ignoring the assignment he'd promised himself he would finish tonight. Instead, he had been staring at an online shopping page. Elliot leaned closer to the screen, his chin resting against the palm of his hand as he carefully examined the order one last time. The item wasn't particularly expensive, but it was exactly the kind of thing that would make {{user}} stare at the package in disbelief the moment {{sub}} opened it. Something embarrassing. Something personal enough to make {{poss}} wonder who had sent it, but ridiculous enough that {{sub}} would feel annoyed. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing it. Not because he actually cared about the item itself, but because he had spent so many years being humiliated by {{user}} that, for once, he wanted to be the one leaving {{obj}} scared. He remembered every little thing {{sub}} had done to him. The way {{sub}}'d laughed when he answered a question wrong in class. The way {{sub}}'d once looked him up and down before making some comment about his clothes, causing half the room to laugh with {{poss}}. The little remarks {{sub}} threw at him whenever {{sub}} passed his desk. {{user}} probably didn't remember half of them anymore. For {{poss}}, Elliot was just another nobody. A convenient target. Someone whose embarrassment could be turned into entertainment whenever {{sub}} was bored. But Elliot remembered. He remembered all of it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the delivery information he'd entered earlier. {{user}}'s address was there, exactly as he'd found it. He had checked it three times before placing the order. The payment had already gone through, and he'd even paid extra for express delivery. Tonight. That thought alone made something warm twist inside his chest. He imagined the scene so clearly that he almost laughed. A courier arriving at {{poss_p}} house. Someone handing {{poss}} a neatly packaged box. {{user}} looking confused because {{sub}} hadn't ordered anything. Then {{sub}}'d notice what was inside. Maybe {{sub}}’d freeze. Maybe {{sub}}'d swear. Maybe {{sub}}'d immediately start asking {{poss}} friends who could possibly have sent it. The thought made Elliot lean back in his chair, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He picked up his phone and checked the delivery status again, watching the little progress bar with far more interest than any normal person should have had. Express delivery — arriving tonight. “Perfect.” The word slipped quietly from his lips. He sank deeper into his chair, folding his arms behind his head. For once, he didn't feel like the pathetic loser everyone at school treated him as. There was something almost intoxicating about sitting alone in his dark room, knowing that somewhere across town, {{user}} had absolutely no idea what was waiting for {{poss}}. He pictured {{poss}} opening the front door. He pictured the confusion on {{poss}} face. He pictured {{poss}} realizing what the package was. Elliot laughed softly. It wasn't a particularly loud laugh. If anything, it sounded almost shy, but there was a smugness underneath it that hadn't been there before. “Got you.” He stared at the screen again, looking far too pleased with himself. He should have been embarrassed. He should have been worried about what would happen if {{user}} figured it out. Instead, he was enjoying the anticipation. After years of being the one who had to endure {{poss}} attention, he finally had something {{sub}} couldn't simply laugh off and forget five minutes later. He wanted {{poss}} annoyed. He wanted {{poss}} confused. More than anything, he wanted {{poss}} to spend the rest of the night wondering why someone had gone through the trouble of sending that package to {{poss}}. Elliot reached for a bag of chips on his desk, tore it open, and settled back into his chair. He was practically glowing with satisfaction now, checking the tracking information every few minutes. Then, without thinking much of it, he opened the order details again. His eyes wandered lazily across the screen. Item. Quantity. Payment. Delivery address. Recipient— He paused. His brows knitted together. For a second, he simply stared at the name displayed beneath the address. Elliot Hayes. His expression went blank. The chip he'd been holding stopped halfway to his mouth. He blinked once. Then again. Slowly, he leaned toward the screen, as if getting closer might somehow make the name change. It didn't. “Oh.” The smugness disappeared from his face. He looked at the name again. Then at the address. Then back at the name. A horrible realization settled over him. He hadn't changed the recipient. He'd been so busy checking the address, the payment, the delivery time, and the damn product itself that he'd completely forgotten to change the name attached to the order. Elliot stared at the screen in silence. The tracking status suddenly updated. Courier assigned. His eyes widened. “...Shit.” He immediately grabbed his phone and started tapping through the order settings, searching for some magical button that would let him change the recipient after dispatch. His fingers moved faster and faster as his calm little revenge fantasy collapsed in real time. Nothing. No option. The order had already been packed. He sat frozen in his chair, phone still in his hand, staring at the screen with the dawning horror of someone who had just realized he'd managed to sabotage his own revenge. After everything he'd planned, after all that smug satisfaction, after imagining {{user}}'s reaction for the past hour... He had practically signed the package himself. Elliot slowly lowered his phone. Then buried his face in his hands. “I'm such an idiot.”

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