Explode

  Daddy hurt me again. He hurt me and it felt just like the first time. Painful. I couldn’t breathe, my heart raced so hard I could feel it ripping through my chest and thrusting out into the cold, dark world of pain and grievance, frozen, unable to move until finally I grasped enough strength to push him off of me and run. I ran so fast, like I never thought possible. I kept running until I felt my legs about to tear off from the rest of my body, but with one glance back to see if he’s gone I lose control and trip on a rock that sends me flying into a fiery volcano ready to erupt. I woke up to hear a plate being thrown and shattering on my door. Uncle Caesar is drunk again. Here goes the same recurring scenario of the past 15 years of my miserable life. Nothing new here, but the four year old triplets in the other room who don’t deserve to hear their Uncle yelling at Dad, and seeing Dad kicking Caesars a*s and the cops coming for him, their innocence being ripped from them like some little jerk kid taking candy from a baby. It happened to me. Its not happening to my baby cousins. I run to the room, slipping on a bloody knife that was thrown to the floor. I take the kids to my brothers house, just next door.
    Of course I was wrong about it being calm there. For the children yes, but for me it became more obvious that demons, fucked up demons with distorted faces and an evil sense of humor follow me everywhere I turn, chasing me, weaving in and out of the entangled memories rotting in my mind. My oldest brother sits at the computer playing video games, the only thing he knows to do. The kids now playing with their toys seem so peaceful, and feeling a bit relieved I sit down to write my book. Now is the perfect time. So many thoughts and ideas are racing around the ridges of my brain, almost like little worms with tiny but muscular runners feet. As I start typing, I hear my brothers annoying voice asking me to move a book of mine out of his way. That book should have been on my desk in the first place before he moved it to where it now resides.
    Why should I move it when he is doing absolutely nothing productive or relatively important. He never does, unless you call playing World of Warcraft for hours on end something productive.
    I on the other hand do everything for everyone. Little favors here and there, other time bigger ones. Keeping my painful secret quiet so that no one feels uncomfortable, so that Grandma never has to see her son go to prison as the rapist of his own daughter. And still, after all of this, I have to protect these innocent children from my very own silence.
    Daddy walks in the room, knowing how I feel about him being around me or the children. He glares at them, the way he used to glare at me right before asking me to go to his room to “message his back”. That’s it. I snap. I fell myself explode, my arms tensing as my fists begin to clench almost all on their own. Drops of sweat start to run down my face and I feel my ears heating up, burning a bright cherry red. Unable to contain myself now, my head explodes, all the hateful words I’ve been meaning to say for years just drip out one after the other, like the worst rainstorm in the history of mankind, the kind of rainstorm that could flood the entire world of its impurities so that a new, cleaner world may begin. After emptying my mind it occurs to me that this was only the start of my complete healing. I remember someone once telling me “Never start anything that you’re not planning to finish. I walk briskly to the kitchen while my a*s hole of a father is still processing my hateful, ruthless words. I spot a shinny piece of sharp metal with a wooden handle, gulping as I pick it up and rush back. As I reach the room he turns to apologize, but before he can say a word I take the knife out from behind me and with a quick, simple motion I jab it into his chest. Jonathan says nothing, the kids sat in the corner crying and I sat next to my father imagining he was the man or rather hero I once knew a long, long time ago. And as I kiss his forehead he takes his last breath and closes his eyes. The cause of my darkest hours finally gone to face his darkest punishment. I sit next to him relieved, happy even, but still wondering “Was this the best decision I could come up with”? Whatever, it’s done and no matter what happens next, I’M FREE !

Reviews

[Dom Gunn]

Very fast paced short story. Dark and could have been brooding had it been longer, but the length was just right.

I liked the style and how despite trying to find a more peacefull spot it only got worse for trying. So how it often is in life!

[.:Arianna:.]

Dark but deep...I really enjoyed reading this!

[Pebbles]

absolutely brill write , full of tension and pain .... good write

[Sweet Little Bunny]

wow. very emotional and powerful. an excellent write.