I was huddled in a dark corner of my room. I was clutching a bible and cross to my chest. Tears were trailing down my face. My father had gotten drunk again and started beating me. This wasn't the first time and it definitely wasn't going to be the last. My father had given me a new black eye and new bruises on my arms from when he grabbed me when I refused to make him dinner.
My mother had died from my father beating her from the many times that he had gotten drunk. It would seem that I was going to suffer the same fate. We lived in a run down apartment. We barely had anything at all. We had very little food and my clothes barely fit me. My father spent all of his money on alcohol and blamed me for the reason why we had a hard time paying the bills, just like what he did with my mother. There were many times when I had to find ways to get money.
I stood up in my corner. My leg muscles ached from sitting there for hours. My eyes burned from my crying. My arms and eye throbbed from the pain. I couldn't continue living like this. I don't want to end up the same way my mother did. This had to stop. It had to stop right here and right now. There was only one way for me to stop all of my pain and suffering. I had to rid myself of the source.
I dropped my bible and cross onto the floor. Slowly I walked out of my room and to the kitchen. I opened up a draw and saw a long knife in it. I took it out of the draw and held it in my hand. The knife felt heavy in my hand, but that wasn't going to stop me. The knife's blade shined in the light. I looked into it and saw the swelling of my eye and saw the other one turning yellow from one of my father's previous attacks.
I walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. The floor creaked with every step. When I reached the end of the hallway I stood outside my father's bedroom door. With a shaking hand I opened the door. Its hinges creaking loudly. My father lay passed out on his bed. The stench of booze that clung on him rose to my nostrils. The smell of the alcohol on him made my stomach turn. But instead of turning around I took a step forward.
I walked over to the bed. I hovered over my father and looked down at him. I raised the knife in my hand. My hand shook and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stab my father. I shouldn't have been hesitating. He was the reason for my pain and suffering. I had to end it here or else it would never end.
He was the reason for my mother's death. He caused my pain and suffering. He abused me both sexually and physically. He spends his money on beer instead of buying food or clothes. He is the reason why I would sometimes have to steal or sell myself just to pay the bills. It has to end. IT HAS TO END NOW!
My father opened his eyes. They widened as he stared at me holding the knife. I looked right into his eyes and saw the fear that was once reflected in my own, but my fear never stopped him from hitting me. My cries never stopped him from raping me. So, I shouldn't let his fear stop me. That was what triggered it.
I brought the knife down and stabbed my father in the heart. Though I knew he was dead from that one stab wound, I continued to stab him. I stabbed him again and again. With each stab a little of my anger, my sadness, my fear went along with it. I finally stopped when all my emotions were gone. I dropped the knife and heard it clank on the floor. I dropped to my knees. It felt like time had stopped.
For the longest time I didn't feel anything. I looked at my hands that were covered with my father's blood. Still I felt nothing. Then I felt the prickling of tears. I put my face in my bloody hands and started to sob. But the sobbing turned to laughter. I laughed hysterically for the longest time because it was finally over.