I didn't speak a word that day at his funeral, while his friends and family gathered around. Some wore disgusted looks, only there out of pity. Other's seemed truly sad about his passing, occasionally throwing dirty looks in the direction of my brother and I.397Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkDC1kmmQ13
The preacher spoke of a life that ended to soon, but honestly, he deserved to die, because he had already killed me, and the worse part was, I was still living. All my life I had lived in fear, a victim of his games. For years I was the toy he used to mop up his needs, to lash out against. He was the monster in the closet, the demon in my dreams. He was the person who taught me what hell really was. Everyone in the room knew him by his name, but I knew him by another title: Father.
The preacher recited lines written in red, while in my head I sent out a silent prayer of thanks, for the bastard who had made my life hell was finally gone. So why did I want so badly to cry?
The man in the coffin before me had taught me what innocence was, then took it away. His hands trailed my body, tender touches in places no child should be touched. Harsh blows when I cried out, spoke out of turn, or begged for help. Sleepless nights spent staring at the door, hoping he wouldn't come into my room, praying the woman he brought home would satisfy his needs for the night. Some nights, she was, but other nights he couldn't control his hunger, yet in the morning he seemed to have been reborn as the preacher society knew him as.
The day he died, I wept for joy, I wept for the love of a father I could never have, but most of all, I wept for the little boy who had died many years ago, replaced with only a shell of broken innocence and fear. He deserved to die, because he killed the only innocence left to me.397Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkXqUnA3c87
Yet, I fell down before his body and wept for him, tears streaming down my face. I didn't want him dead, I wanted my daddy, the rare side of him that I was convinced loved me. And even know the struggle is still there. Part of me wants to side of him, that while rare, was truly my daddy. The other parts knows that he deserved to die.
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Author's Note: I tried...it isn't very good, but i tried. Too hard to write397Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsJL96MbnlK
