I finally understood.
I finally understood why everyone hated him. Everyone – my mum’s family, and even his own son; my brother hated him.
I had finally seen him for what he really was – a monster. He treated my mum like an irrelevant piece of dirt off of his shoe; he didn’t even respect her yet he claimed to love her. She was worth ten of him and we all knew it, but the only person who had been brave enough to say it to his face was my older brother.
From the outside, we looked like a perfect little family. There was my mum, my father, my older brother, my baby sister and me. There was soon going to be two more of us; my mum was pregnant with twins. When we went out, my father gave the outside world the impression that he loved and cared for us, but that was far from the truth. I think at one time in their lives, my father did love my mum, but the love they once shared seemed to have disappeared.
Reading this, you might be wondering why I sound so bitter and full of hatred towards my father. It is because I just found out that he has infected my mum with a potentially fatal STI, after contracting it from one of his various extramarital sexual relationships.
Now do you understand?
She wasn’t an angel, but she didn’t deserve to be burdened with this disease, as well as having to look after 3 (soon to be 5) children and have such a disrespectful husband. He had ruined our family because of his inability to be faithful to a woman who had given up so many opportunities for him and her children. It made me sick.
I got up from my bed and stood in front of the mirror, observing my appearance. I was a bit tall for my age, but I didn’t really have any muscles – not like my father or brothers’ anyway.
I went down to the kitchen. I opened the drawer carefully and stared at its content’s. He was upstairs asleep, so if I acted fast I could be done within a few minutes. I slowly climbed up the stairs and paused outside of the bedroom door.
Was I really going to do this?
I shook all negative thoughts out of my head and pushed open the door. He was deeply asleep so he didn’t even know I was there. I stood over him for a few moments before doing it…
I plunged the knife into him and he woke up screaming. I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs and tried to run out of the room but it was too late. My mum stood in the doorway with her hands over her mouth.
“Michael… what have you done?!” she said walking over to him. He was writhing in agony on the bed, but I didn’t even feel guilty.
It was about time someone sorted him out.
