Short Horrors

Disturbed

   Man lives in the sunlit world of what he believes to be reality. But... there is, unseen by most, an underworld, a place that is just as real, but not as brightly lit... a Darkside.

                                                                                                             - George Romero

“You are useless, you know that? You dumb bastard. No one loves you so you might as well just hang yourself.”

My dad said this sort of thing to me all the time. I guess it is pretty obvious from the start that we don’t have the best relationship. My dad was in a car accident before I was born and now he is paralyzed from the neck down. I assume that not being able to move would get very boring and my pain is his entertainment.

I turned my head away from the book I was reading and said, “I love you too Daddy.” in my most faux-sweet sarcastic voice.

“Shut up you little prick. Don’t get smart with me. I’ll…”

“You’ll do what?” I smirked. I couldn’t help myself but to laugh a little. “What are you going to do to me? I already hate you with every fiber of my being, you reached your goal. Now shut up, I’m reading.” I turned back to the book and it was silent for a few seconds before my dad spoke again.

“If you hate me so much, then why don’t you do it? Just put me out of my misery Alex.” My father wished he was dead. If he could, he would have committed suicide a long time ago. Not being able to move his arms is probably the one and only reason why he hasn’t. He can talk though, and he uses his big mouth to make me feel like nothing. He says that if I hate him so much, I would kill him and make us both happy.

“Go to hell.”

“I am in hell Alex!” he shouted. His wheelchair was slowly moving toward me now. “Its your fault that I have this life. If your mom wasn’t pregnant with you then I wouldn’t have had to rush to the hospital.”

I really couldn’t help myself at laughing at that one. How on earth could I have possibly chosen to be conceived or not? I think that's a lot more his fault than mine.

“What do you thing is funny!” He shouted, as loud as his voice could carry. “It wasn’t my decision to bring you here. I told your mom to get an abortion but she didn’t listen. I knew you were a devil child before you were even born. I just kept thinking of all of the ways I could slaughter you when you were a small baby. You were just so tiny… I could have easily crushed your little skull… or put your entire body into the microwave. I wonder how that would turn out. Maybe you would pop like marshmallows do.” He said with a smile on his little grotesque face.

“Stop it!” I said with tears in my voice. I didn’t want him to see me cry but it was too hard to hold it in.

Imitating a voice in which you would talk to a baby, he said, “What’s the matter Alexander? Are you upset that Mommy and Daddy never loved you?”

“Enough.” I got up and stomped into the kitchen. I opened one of the drawers and dug around until I found what I was looking for: The huge butcher knife that is obviously used for cutting large pieces of meat. This should do it, I thought to myself. I stormed back into the living room where my father had turned around to face me. Slowly a smile came over his face. It was creepy to see someone stare death in the eye and be happy about it. Unnatural. No one should be this happy about losing their life. First I thought about what the consequences of my actions might be, and I found that I didn’t care. I thought about how it was morally wrong to do it and again, I didn’t care. I thought about how cruel it was to kill my own father, and it made my urge to do it even stronger.

"I hope you enjoy this as much as I plan to.” I said as I plunged the knife into his stomach and he began to bleed.

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