Justified - Is It?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
When is murder justified? Being molested by your father is a reason good enough?

Submitted: June 18, 2011

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Submitted: June 18, 2011



I had been fourteen then.

“Jenny! Jennifer!”

“Coming dad,” I called out. It had been just an hour since mom left and he was already calling out for me. How was I going to spend the week! I was supposed to be studying!

“Yeah daddy what’s it?” I asked as I went into his bedroom. I could never have prepared for what happened next. Dad was sitting there half naked. He pounced on me the moment I entered.

I pleaded, I begged, I cried but to no avail. He won’t listen. He pushed me onto the bed, pinned my hands above me. Raising my skirt, he slid off my panties. I can’t even bear thinking of that person as my father!

What happened after that passed as a blur to me, my eyes were red due to crying, my vagina sore and bleeding.

After fifteen minutes, I was in my shower, scrubbing of all the invisible dirt off me, tears pouring out of my eyes. My father had just raped me! I didn’t even have the strength to say it aloud. It was so sick and it just made me hurt more. How could someone do that to his own daughter?

The entire week passed in a flurry, similar in routine to the first day. When my mom came, I hugged her tight. “Hey hey girl, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing mom, just missed you a lot,” I lied perfectly.

When I left for college, dad bought me an apartment, purely out of convenience. It was easy to come and fuck there rather than pick me up from the hostel and go to some sick motel. How thoughtful of him. For two years, I took it all. Until, I met Jason.

I started going out with him. He was not my first boyfriend, but, as cliché as it may sound, he made me feel like no one else had. With him, I felt that I was special, I was strong. Once in a while, I even felt, maybe I could have the courage to say no to dad now, just maybe. I hoped that if I had Jason by my side, some day I might be able to.

Uptil then, I had done a pretty good job at hiding about guys from my father. You see, my dad wasn’t the sharing-caring type. But alas, I wasn’t good enough at it. We had been out for lunch together - one of the most memorable times of my life, purely because I laughed a lot that day; more than I had in a very long time. Unfortunately, it was too good to last. Just as we paid the bill and headed off to have some ice-cream, dad came striding towards us, his anger showing clearly in his eyes.

“You get your hands off my girl!”

“Dad – leave him, daddy – please –“ I begged in vain. He beat Jason up. It was a slow day and no one was around to even care about what was happening. As for me, I felt too scared to do anything. I couldn’t even move as dad dealt punch after punch.

“You go back home, NOW,” he ordered me and I hurried away.

That night, he fucked me raw. As soon as he entered through the front door, he pushed m against the wall, kissing me roughly, his fingernails clawing through my neck.

Carelessly, he ripped off my jeans button and pushed it down to my ankles. Tears flowed down my face as he thrusted in and out of me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, emotionlessly after we cleaned up. “He isn’t good enough for you.”

“Oh yes dad, I understand,” I pretended in a meek voice as I poured him a scotch. “Here, have a drink.”

After three drinks that night, he was inebriated enough to be unaware of his surroundings. That was when I decided I had had enough. I took the knife and stabbed him in the stomach.

My father’s body lay on the couch, red blood staining the white leather. I sat on the floor, disoriented, the bloody knife still in my hand. In some twisted way, it was justified.

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