If it were me, I'd find a quiet corner in a park, get out my notebook and write it into a story. It's one of the reasons I started writing, for sure; to get it out of my system, and act out how I would have liked to have acted etc (in my case, standing up to my father, which I never mansged in real.life).

It can also be coldly satisfying to write a cruel pen portrait of the person who's making your life a misery. Capturing them in all their terrible detail.

Thinking of you.