Love Thy Father

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man confronts his wife about his love towards her daughter.

Submitted: October 27, 2008

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Submitted: October 27, 2008

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I sat right up as soon as her voice thundered into my tiny white room. Emilia Emmart was graceful as well as beautiful. She was the envy of all her friends and she was my beloved wife. But today, her beauty was masked with radiant anger that seemed to scream at me with a thousand knives and swords. I never understood her. She would suddenly wake up angry and take it all out on me. I never much liked her for that but you can’t judge someone by their flaws. Emilia slapped my boot with a wet towel and then threw it at my face.

 

The cold wet towel hit me like a brick. It was rose scented, her familiar precious scent. “Get up!” she screamed at me with all her might. I lifted my feet off of the nearby table and placed them firmly on the soft carpeted ground. I stood up and walked towards her. My hands shivered as I tried to fix her midnight black hair. She smacked my hand away suddenly. I jumped. “You bastard! How dare you touch me!” she said angrily. My eyes were tired but as they fell in hers, they quickly recovered.

 

It wasn’t much that I feared her, it was that I feared that she would part from me. I couldn’t bare to withstand her being away from me. Her pink full lips started mumbling words at me. Emilia’s eyes were filled with bitter anger and bewilderment. I felt a cold hand smack me on my left cheek. “Are you even listening?” she said. I could feel a burning sensation ebbing in my cheek but I quickly ignored it. There was no time to survey the hurt. I saw her hand approach my cheek again and so I stopped it before it could further the wound.

 

“What is it honey?” I said in an attempt to comfort her exasperated mood. Her eyes narrowed and she said “how dare you call me honey!” I glanced behind her. The door was wide open. I spotted a painting on the wall. It was of a baby stabbing her mother at the heart. “You think I wouldn’t notice!” The words pierced my mind. She had found out. I had loved her daughter for too long and our father – daughter friendship had blossomed into something more. I wondered how much she knew.

 

“What are you talking about my love?” I asked innocently. Another hand came down on me, this time it was a fist to my face. I toppled backwards and fell towards the bed. “My love? How could you? You slept with her!” she cried out. A wave of fear enveloped me. She knew everything. One thing that bothered me was if it was the young one that had betrayed me. Her name was Isabella Manson. She was the mere reflection of her mother. Isabella was more peaceful though. She was calm and conservative.

 

I knew of her love towards me but I let it pass. Years and years went by and she became more stressed. Isabella threatened to kill herself if I ignored her for too long. What was there for a man of my experience to do to comfort such a depressed heart? And so I loved her. I lost my heart to her and my mind was hers as well.

 

Water trickled down my eyes and into my dry lips. I betrayed my true love, the one I promised to love and care for before anyone else. She was my god and now I had banished her from my heart. “I fucking hate you!” Emilia screamed at me. Her face was red with fury.

 

A shinny object was hidden under her dress. I could see it. Her hand snaked towards it and pulled it out. It was a knife! She jumped on top of me and started punching me with the knife.

 

I tried to protect what little I could but it was of no use. My hands were a bloody mess and my chest ached heavily. I didn’t know how many times she had pierced me with it but I suddenly saw a shadow behind her. It was her angel of death.

 

A cry of anger invaded the air. My wife, Emilia, was struck with the painting that I had seen earlier. The frame crashed against her head. I heard a deep cracking noise and I knew that the blow had killed her.

 

Her blood fell on me and slipped carefully into my lips. She fell towards the side and stood still. Isabella was holding part of the frame in her hands. She was shaking. “Sweetie, what have you done?” I asked breathlessly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t watch her hurt you like that” she said softly. Isabella ran to me and hugged me. She was on top of me now. I tried to push her away but I couldn’t. Her grip was too strong.

 

My body no longer hurt, I felt a flying sensation through me. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.


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