An increasingly heated argument starts when Julia declines to pay her neighbor $2000 for a small dog accident. Julia is dealing with family issues and navigating the chaos as tensions grow. But Julia loses it and plans some heinous retaliation after her neighbor paints over her windows.
Allow me to share with you the story of the moment I nearly went insane while residing in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
I’m Julia, and I shared this sweet small home with my husband Roger and our ten-year-old son Dean for more than 10 years.
As long as you disregarded the ongoing concern for Roger’s well-being, everything was fairly wonderful. However, when Linda moved in next door, everything was different.
Linda. The mere thought of her makes my blood boil. We never got along from the day she came in with her golden retriever, Max.
At first, it was simply small things, like her loud music or the fact that she allowed Max go anywhere he wished, nothing serious. However, things took a bad turn one sunny afternoon.
Max came running over to me while I was cutting my roses in my backyard, wagging his tail like he owned the place. Really sweet dog, but intrigued. He took in certain scents, and before I knew it, he yelled.
The poor creature has a little thorn embedded in his paw. I bent down, comforted him, and carefully pulled the thorn out. I patted Max’s head after he licked my fingers.
I accompanied him back to Linda’s, perhaps anticipating a thank you. Rather, she merely stood there, frowning and with her arms crossed.
Why does my dog have a limp? How did you act? She lost her temper.
“He simply trod on a small thorn,” I retorted, attempting to remain composed. “I removed it, and he seems OK.”
She gave a huff, and I assumed that was it. How incorrect I was!
One morning, I discovered a message affixed to my door. “You owe me $2000 for Max’s treatment,” it said.
I was astounded as I stared at it. Two thousand dollars? For what purpose? The dog only received a small cut. I made the decision to visit and make everything clear.
Linda, what’s the deal? I asked, pointing to the message.
Her tone was cold as she continued, “That’s for Max’s vet bill.” “That thorn caused him pain all through the night.”
“I apologize, but that is absurd,” I answered. “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll give you $100, but two thousand is out of the question.”
Linda squinted her eyes. “You’ll regret it or you pay up.”
Linda turned my life into a living misery the moment she met me.
Every time she drove by, she would flip me off, honk, and tip over my trash cans. Her attempt to have Dean arrested was the worst. Dean, my sweet, naive boy, was simply riding a minibike like all the other kids in the area.
I was enjoying a cup of tea on the veranda one afternoon when I heard Linda’s car horn familiarly screaming. Glaring at Dean, who was playing in the driveway, I looked up.
She said, “Get that brat off that bike before I call the cops!”
“Linda, these are only children!” Feeling my patience wane, I yelled back.
She shot back, “Your kid is a menace, and if you don’t do something about it, I will.”
I was unable to yell, weep, or take action, even though I wanted to. Since Roger was back in the hospital, I was already overburdened with trying to keep things together. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Dean.
I kindly murmured, “Come inside, honey.” “We’ll switch up the game.”
With tears in his eyes, Dean argued, “But Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I understand, my love. Simply put, it’s complicated.
I made an effort to ignore Linda’s shenanigans and concentrate on Roger and Dean. However, it felt as though a ticking time bomb was nearby. I was always afraid of what she might do next. Finally, she pushed me over the edge.
I got the call in the afternoon of a Sunday. Roger’s condition had gotten worse, and I had to head to the hospital right away.
After gathering our belongings, I dropped Dean off at my mother’s house and hurried to the hospital.
I stayed by Roger’s side for two excruciating days, not eating or sleeping, my mind racing with worry and tiredness.
Upon my return, all I wanted was a little break, an opportunity to regain my composure.
Upon walking up my driveway, I discovered that my house had been turned into a nightmare for graffiti artists. Paint in the colors red and yellow spattered my windows, dripping in unkempt streaks.
My house appeared to have been attempted to be converted into a circus tent. And there it was, Linda’s note “Just to make your days brighter!” sitting on the doorstep!
A house covered with paint splatters | Source: Midjourney
I was shaking with fury as I stood there, my fatigue from the previous two days melting away in the fire of my fury. That was it. This was the tipping moment.
I clinched my teeth and whispered, “Dean, go inside.”
“But Mom, what took place?” His eyes wide with terror and perplexity, he questioned.
I said it again, softly this time, attempting to maintain my composure. “Just go inside, honey.”
Dean gave a nod and rushed inside, leaving me to harbor my rage on my own.
With my thoughts racing, I crumpled Linda’s paper in my hand. It had to end. Linda was going to get a war if that was her desire.
I took a drive to the hardware shop that afternoon. I strolled through the aisles, my rage melting into a detached, analytical concentration. When I saw the Japanese Beetle traps, a strategy started to take shape.
I purchased multiple packets of the beetle-attracting smell lures and traps. I put the aroma packets in the freezer as soon as I came home. The wax would be easier to work with in the cold. Anxiety mixed with excitement caused my heart to race. This needed to function.
I slipped into Linda’s yard at three in the morning while the neighborhood was silent due to the darkness.
I had the impression of a figure from one of Roger’s favorite spy films. My heart leaped at the sound of every distant leaf rustle. However, I was adamant. I hid the smell packets behind the layers of mulch in Linda’s well-kept flower beds.
By the time I was done, the first rays of morning were appearing.
I crept back inside my house, feeling my heartbeat finally begin to settle down. Despite being tired, I felt a sense of somber fulfillment as I got into bed. It was now a matter of waiting.
When I looked out my window the following afternoon, I noticed swarms of Japanese beetles descending on Linda’s garden. They were glinting in the sunlight. It was functioning.
Her lovely flower gardens were completely destroyed over the course of the following few days, the once-vibrant blossoms reduced to frayed remains.
Allow me to correct the information. Hi there, my name is Linda, and I came to this area in search of solitude.
My golden dog, Max, went into Julia’s yard by mistake and snagged a thorn in his paw, shattering that fantasy. She pulled it out as if she were doing me a favor, rather than just giving it back to him.
I asked Julia to pay Max’s vet bill the following day.
He was in discomfort and walking with a limp all night. However, she was so bold as to offer me just $100 rather than the $2000 it would have cost. I told her she would regret not paying up after our argument. Things didn’t seem to be getting out of control.
Yes, I did, a couple times knocked over her trash cans and honked as I went past, to let her know I wasn’t going to back down. However, Julia painted myself as the bad guy.
I didn’t know things had gotten out of hand until insects decimated my garden.
I was like a crazy woman, rushing around my yard. When I was picking away dead flowers on the third day, I noticed something strange hidden in the mulch. When I saw that it was a piece of plastic packaging—part of a Japanese beetle trap—my heart fell.
Someone had intentionally done this. And I knew who it was, very well.
My wrath blazing, I stormed straight to Julia’s house. I knocked on her door, presenting the proof that implicated her.
“Julia! Let yourself in!” I yelled, fury trembling in my voice.
Appearing composed as ever, she unlocked the door. “What’s going on, Linda?”
“You know what you did to my garden?” I threw the plastic fragment towards her. This was discovered in my flower bed. Yes, you did this, right?
Although Julia maintained a neutral expression, there was a hint of something—guilt, perhaps—in her eyes. “Lucina, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t tell me lies!” I let out a cry. “You destroyed my yard! Why would you act in this manner?
A wail sounded from within the home before she could respond. When I looked behind Julia, I noticed Dean, her son, seated on the floor with tears running down his face.
“Is Dad going to pass away, Mom?” With his tiny voice breaking, Dean cried.
Julia looked past me, her expression softening as she turned to greet her son. “No, sweetheart, everything will be OK. The medical professionals are exerting every effort.
I watched this scene play out while freezing in place. My rage seemed so trivial now.
Julia was more than simply my obnoxious neighbor; she was a mother taking care of her sick husband and her afraid child.
“Julia, I.” I opened my mouth, but my words stumbled. How do I put it? I hadn’t paused to think about what she might be going through since I was so overwhelmed by my rage.
With a look of fatigue on her face, Julia turned to face me. “Linda, I apologize for your garden. However, I didn’t do it. I can’t handle this anymore, let alone caring about your flowers.
My fight was gone from me. “I apologize too,” I said. “I had no idea that things were so horrible for you.”
She gave a nod, remaining silent. I recoiled, embarrassed by my own foolishness. How could it have gotten so out of control?
That being said, I kept to myself. I realized that Julia had enough on her plate and put an end to the small-time harassing. My garden recovered slowly, and although Julia and I never became friends, we were able to live in harmony together.
I still think about that period of time years later. Sometimes, in order to understand what others are going through, you have to look past your own problems. Even though Julia and I have remained estranged neighbors, we have a silent respect for one another that was developed through hardship.
Though it has been romanticized for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
Man Who Asked Me Out Didn’t Realize I Was the ‘Fat Girl’ He Bullied in High School – My Perfect Revenge
When Jen matches with her high school bully on a dating site, she relives the trauma of her childhood. But still, she goes on the date—as a way of getting revenge for how she was treated. The date ends up being a bust, and Jen doesn’t get what she intended, so she plans a second meeting…
I sat at the bar, pretending to be absorbed in my phone as the door swung open and my date walked in. After meeting on a dating app, Justin and I had decided that it was finally time to meet.
Except that Justin and I had met before—just that he didn’t remember it.
A person using her phone | Source: Unsplash
As he walked in, the familiar jolt of recognition shot through me, but on his face, there was only the casual scan of a man on the lookout for someone who could have been anyone but the girl he once tormented. As he approached, his smile was confident, practiced.
I steeled myself, reminding my racing heart of its role tonight—a new woman, who just wanted revenge.
A smiling man | Source: Unsplash
“Hey, Jen,” he said, sliding into the seat beside me, unaware of the storm he was walking into. “I hope I’m not too late?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my voice steady and sweet. “I was just enjoying the vibe here. This place has changed since the last time I was around.”
People sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels
When we had matched on the app, I was convinced that Justin wouldn’t be able to recognize me. Since high school, I had drastically changed—everything from my hair, my weight, and my sense of style.
I was a new person.
“Yeah, it’s got a good crowd tonight,” Justin nodded, waving over a bartender. “Can I get you a drink now?”
People sitting at a bar | Source: Pexels
I watched him closely—he had barely changed since the last time I saw him. It had been our high school graduation, followed by a party in an open field. Justin had barely glanced at me. He didn’t register that I was someone who had been attracted to him.
Then, not now.
A group of graduates | Source: Pexels
When we matched, I wasn’t interested in Justin—but after I spoke to my sister, we both thought that messing with Justin would be healing in some way.
“Sure, a gin and tonic, thank you,” I said, watching his face for any sign of recognition. There was none. It was clear as he saw me—I was just another date. Just another woman that he had picked up.
A cocktail with strawberries | Source: Pexels
As he chatted about his job and recent travels, I nodded along, my mind racing ahead to the plan unfolding around us. The bar was filling up quickly.
Justin continued to speak, and I began to space out—remembering moments from high school.
Students hanging out together | Source: Pexels
Like the one time when the dull echo of my footsteps in the empty high school corridor seemed louder than usual, reverberating off the lockers with a metallic chill.
I clutched my books tightly to my chest, my eyes downcast, trying to make myself invisible. The memory of Justin’s harsh laughter from earlier that day still stung, a cruel reminder of my daily ordeal.
A close-up of lockers | Source: Pexels
As I turned the corner, I could hear the muffled sounds of other students, their voices light and carefree. I approached the bathroom, a temporary refuge where I could gather myself away from prying eyes and sharp tongues.
I could never eat in the cafeteria. They would all look at me and laugh.
Meals on trays | Source: Unsplash
I remember pushing the bathroom door open, the familiar scent of industrial cleaner mixed with a hint of floral air freshener greeted me. I checked the stalls quickly—empty—and allowed myself a moment to lean against the cool tile wall, exhaling slowly.
The tears came then, quietly at first, then with a shuddering force I couldn’t contain. It wasn’t just the words that Justin had hurled at me—it was the relentless, grinding down of my spirit, day after day.
A bathroom stall | Source: Unsplash
Bringing me back to the present, Justin asked if I wanted to leave the bar after our drink and get something to eat at the many food stalls outside. Younger me would never, but I was different now.
As he asked for the bill, Justin began to hound the waitress.
A couple drinking at the bar | Source: Pexels
“I need you to hurry up,” he told her. “We’ve got places to be and you’re just taking up my time. Could you do your job any slower?”
She blinked back tears and went to get the bill.
“My ex-girlfriend was just like that,” he said, turning to me. “Her eyes would well up whenever I said anything.”
A smiling waitress | Source: Unsplash
The evening ended with me leaving Justin outside the bar, claiming that I had a headache and needed to sleep it off.
I was disappointed that I didn’t get my revenge.
At home, I sat with my laptop in bed and decided to take another shot at having my revenge against Justin. I logged onto Facebook and created an event—adding everyone who had gone to high school with us.
A person using their laptop in bed | Source: Pexels
I planned the reunion, making the bar that I had just left the location for our meeting. When the event was created, many of my ex-classmates indicated that they would be there—there were many shares and by the next morning, the number of people attending had grown.
A laptop opened to Facebook | Source: Pexels
On the day of the reunion, I spent a while getting dressed. This was a big moment. This was for everyone to see that I was the best version of myself—and that I was confident in my own skin.
At the bar, I went straight to the bartender and made sure that the bill would be sent to Justin at the end of the evening, giving his name and number.
A woman doing her make up | Source: Pexels
After a while, Justin came up to me with a big grin on his face.
“You seem different, have we met before?” he asked, slurping his drink.
He didn’t even have the decency to remember me from drinks the previous week.
The irony of his words almost made me laugh, but I kept my composure.
A person holding a glass | Source: Pexels
“I get that a lot,” I deflected. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
Justin laughed, shrugging as he turned to signal the bartender for another round.
“But you do know me,” I said. “You really haven’t changed, have you, Justin?”
“What do you mean?”
A couple talking | Source: Pexels
“Just that you’ve always had this way of making people feel less,” I pressed on, my resolve hardening with each word. “Like how you talk to the waitress, or how you joked about your ex the other night.”
Justin’s face hardened when he realized who I was—but still, I was merely the girl from the dating app, not the one who had been bullied by him before.
A person holding her phone | Source: Pexels
“What? Oh! Jen!” he said, his face contorting.
“Do you remember Jennifer from high school?” I asked loudly, hoping that people would be listening. “The girl that you tormented. The girl that you made sure knew how different she was from everyone else. That she didn’t fit your cruel standards.”
His face went pale, his eyes widening as realization dawned, connecting the past with the present.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“I’m that Jennifer,” I said. “And tonight, I wanted you to see exactly who I have become, despite your best efforts to break me down.”
Justin stood up, his mouth opening and closing, searching for something to say but finding nothing. Around us, the expressions from our classmates ranged from shock to support, their eyes fixed on us.
A surprised woman | Source: Unsplash
“I hope one day you’ll understand the weight of your words, how deeply they can cut,” I said.
Turning on my heel, I left him standing there stupidly, the bill for the drinks being the least of his worries.
Finally, I had done it.
A person holding a receipt | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
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