Every damn time, when I think about it, I must always cry. That is the only way I can cope with it. Every memory I have about that night. Every memory is sealed in my brain, sealed in my blood.
When he came into my room, that was when I knew I couldn’t stop him. He moved slowly and gently, like a poisonous snake. The beast crawled into the bed, moving from my feet, upwards. My legs, my stomach, my chest, neck, and head, were all now controlled by him. So what else could I do? Fight him? No, he held my hands tight to his.
He kissed me. Oh how crazy! Who in this world kisses his prey before killing? You don’t see lions kissing zebras. So why did he have to kiss me? Leave a mark? Saying, “This one’s mine”? That is horrible, but what followed next was worse. The way he touched me, the way I had to touch him. If I really had a say in this I promise you I would’ve never permitted this.
I must say. I must really admit, that the only way I could keep myself from killing him, was the thought that soon it would be over. How foolish of me! It never was over, it never is. Now I must walk the streets of a filthy town, wearing filthy clothes and having that terrible thought that I. I! of all the other preys in this world, I had to be the one. The one who got taken by him, my own son.
His nose was red and green liquid ran into his open mouth. That was the sight I woke up to every day since my wife died; A stupid little kid standing in my way and asking me dumb questions such as: “What does that do?”, “Who is that?”, “Can I sit on your lap?” or “Is mommy gonna come back from the hotel?”. Stupid kid.
I never wanted one, to be honest. It actually came as bad news to me when my wife sent me a text;
“Need to talk to you.”
“Can’t you say it here?”
That answer. That short, simple “No.” was enough to make me anxious. “What could it be that she wanted to talk about? Is it something bad?”, my mind wandered. “Is the cat dead? Does she want to break up with me? Or maybe it’s good news, so good that she has to tell them face to face. She got a promotion, or she bought us a dog or her mother’s finally dead”. As you may realise, it wasn’t good news. She had used one of those peeing-sticks and it showed a cross. She held it to me and said; “You’re gonna be a father”.
I don’t really remember how I reacted, everything’s black, faded, but I can remember alcohol. Quite a lot, actually. That’s not the point. It may seem like I am a bad man, who drinks all the time and uses violence to solve problems. Well it’s not my fault if I do that! You don’t know what it’s like to be with him all the time. I don’t have any free time and the only way I can get out my frustration is to kick him, punch him. With that face, that ugly, disgusting face how can I not punch him?
His nose was red and green liquid ran into his mouth, it was only when he stopped crying that I realised what I just did. To my defense, I never wanted a child. I’m too young to have one. He literally destroyed my life! I had to do something. I had to change something, and only when he laid silent on the floor, only then my life became much better. I could finally, after many years, start college.