The End Of Days

The blood curdling past made another sweep through her brain. It reminded her of the days she never felt like returning home from school. The days she used to envy normal people with normal lives. The days and nights she spent crying after her father molested her. The days she watched her mother being mercilessly beaten, emotions oscillating between empathy for her mother and sympathy for herself. The days which were about to mutate overnight, from the endless present to a definite past.

She resented her childhood. Living in constant fear and terror rather than enjoying an age of innocence. Ambitions avoided career but her thoughts lingered around survival strategies. Nightmares were a pleasant, much welcomed deviation from the horrific daily doses of reality. The imaginative spirit of her childhood was directed towards plotting the most brutal deaths for her father. But lack of courage betrayed her creativity.

But now, she stood there with sadistic satisfaction surging through her body. She felt felt triumph flowing through her veins elevating her to the peak of sarcasm as she spoke the words that would ring through the last moments of her father’s life…..
“Oh Dad, Dear Dad! Momma’s hung you in the closet and I’m feeling so sad!”