A Peaceful Death.

I had just gotten home from a round of drinking and I wasn’t in a mood to see my father and hear his constant nagging. “Julia where have you been?” and I spun around to see the very person I didn’t want to see.
I hated my father and it’s his fault. You can say he did nothing to deserve hate from the child of his loins, and I would say that the seed of his loins didn’t deserve to be raped for eight years by him. On the surface we looked like the ideal family. Lawyer parents, doctor and lawyer sons and just like every ideal family, there was a black sheep which just happened to me.
My loving caring mother tried her best to curb my willful spirit but she keeps forgetting that when I needed her ages ago she shunned me and told me my father couldn’t be sticking his hands into my panties during the day and injuring me with his phallus at night.
Looking at him now in this state of intoxication all I feel is hatred, the years of abuse come hurling back and my mother’s silence and refusal to see what was happening hit me like the force of a battalion and I who was about to go to my room and ignore the old bastard turned around and said “what is it to you? You pedophile.”

He had the audacity to look hurt and angry, I couldn’t help the laughter that spewed forth “oh, you think because you have stopped raping me I would just forgive you, daddy you should know it doesn’t work that way, you think sending me abroad or dropping all those completely unwanted gifts would wipe the memory of you killing me slowly those nights, those nights when you were slowly creating a shell of emptiness that only the fear of physical contact would fill.”
“Julia stop saying that nonsense” he yelled. I moved closer to him and leered in his face “who fulfills your pedophilic needs now, the maid right? I see how you look at her and she is the perfect age just below puberty the way you like them. I could see fury rising in his eyes but didn’t care I was on a roll and I felt joy just seeing him in pain. He looked frail and old. I kept taunting him, pain from my words were all I could see in his eyes. What I didn’t expect was the slap I felt on my face, rage rose in me as it reverberated in my mind that this pervert had touched me. In blind rage I started punching him and all I learnt in self-defense classes I practiced on my father. I caught a glimpse of a pair scissors on the centre table, grabbed it and rammed it into the man that had birthed me and had given me my first child, as I repeatedly stabbed him I remembered the way he pounded into me night after night and followed the same tempo of those nights until I couldn’t hear him breathe anymore and for the first time in years I felt peace. That peace that has remained with me all these years.
@nkemoyaghire