Once in the car, I made sure to lock the doors, crank the engine and punch the gas pedal. After all, I was still in a hurry.
All the lights were off as I pulled down the driveway of my fathers’ house. The drive over wasn’t long but I took whatever moments I could to appreciate the last few rays of the afternoon sunshine over the open highway. The sun was setting, and quickly.
Without the lights on inside, the house looked dark behind the trees that stood blocking out said sunlight. I got an odd feeling that sent a shiver down my spine. I can’t ever remember the house being creepy when I was a child, but as an adult, this place scares the bejesus out of me.
Maybe it was just the dreary weather and the darkness that turned my childhood home into the mansion from that Scissorhands movie. Maybe it was just my imagination, I supposed that it could’ve always been this creepy.
I drove all the way around the back and parked up. Sometimes my aunt liked to tend to her gardens in the afternoons, sometimes she’d get caught napping in her hammock or could be found in her art studio that used to be the pool house. I wandered up to the window of her studio but it was dark and empty. I didn’t see any sign of her, so I decided to try my luck inside.
Luckily, the back door was unlocked but I continued to question whether my father was even in. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he left without me because I was running late. In fact, it happened a lot. My frame drooped as I worried that I may have wasted my time.
“Please, please…” My father begged, his voice whimpering. I felt my face pinch as I stepped forward curious as to what was going on. I moved quietly so as to not disturb him, following his voice down the hall to the dining room.
It was dark, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. The only light in the house was the soft glow that shone through from the streetlamps outside. Obviously, father hadn’t shut the curtains before those thugs invaded.
A small streak of luck.
I could just make out three figures huddled into our dining room - one of them being my father.
Oh god.My hand covered my mouth just catching my gasp.
Soundlessly I moved to hide. I crouched down and crawled under the stairs, nestling myself in the tight spot behind the bookcase. It was only a glimpse but it made my heart race. The blood. I’d walked in on something that I shouldn’t have. What the fuck was this? From the broken sight of my father, it must have been hours since they’d burst through the front doors.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. I didn’t live there anymore, I only stopped by to visit my father and my aunt. After a second I wondered about my aunt. Was she in the house somewhere? Surely not. I prayed for the life of me that she had gone out to bingo early.
I had loved it when she had moved in with my father, I got to see her more often, and she had a certain way with my father that brought him out of his shell - in a good way, a way I’d only seen a handful of times prior. I only wished she had lived with us when I was a child. It would’ve been nice to have another female around, another family member.
Now I’d begun to wonder if having her here had been the best choice, my father could have put her life in danger.
One of the figures was bigger, taller with a heavier build. The other was shorter, dressed in a brown suit. I hadn’t seen enough of their faces to be able to recognize them in the daylight. The only distinguishing feature on either of them was a long thick scar running down the side of the neck of the tall one.
I turned away, the sight of the gun instilling the fear of God in me. I’d seen guns before, held them, shot them. For as long as I can remember my father had them hidden all around the house. For protection, he’d said. I had never believed that we’d actually ever have a use for them. With all the security measures that were taken to keep us safe, I thought guns in the house was a ludicrous idea. But, of course, there was no arguing with my father.
No, it wasn’t the gun that I feared. It was the thick finger that weighed heavy on its trigger, the barrel aimed right at my father.
I should scream, I should run and find help. But fear that they’d find me kept me still. This wasn’t a random attack, this was an execution. I didn’t want to die because of the wrongs my father had done. I wasn’t nearly as blind as he wanted me to have been. He had pissed off a lot of people. Maybe it’s not so much a surprise that the wrong people had caught up to him.
My heart pounded in my chest, so hard that it hurt. The strain made it difficult to breathe. The ringing in my ears did nothing to drown out the gunshot. My whole body started to shake violently as silent sobs wrecked me. The hurt worsened because I was so torn.
I hated my father, but I loved him.
I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t wish death on him.
Heavy footsteps thudded against the wood floors. The door slammed behind them. I shook as I waited, giving them a good five-minute head start before my dam broke. I wailed into my arms, the physical ache in my chest causing me to be sick. My chest heaved but I didn’t care, not about anything.
At some point, I guess I cried myself to sleep because when I next opened my eyes, a uniformed officer had his hand on my shoulder gently shaking it.
I watched from afar as to not arouse any suspicion. She was perfect.
She was all I’d been dreaming about, but something was different about the real-life version. I knew inevitably that this was what it would come to. For me to finally get my way, he had to be out of the picture. I knew that.
In all my time waiting, fantasizing, I never imagined this day. Maybe because subconsciously I didn’t want to. This had to be one of the worst moments of her life, but it was one of my best. It didn’t feel right.
I was a bastard.
I was a sadistic, selfish bastard.
I didn’t have a choice. I would have loved to give her time. By no means was I a patient man, especially when it came to her. But it didn’t matter, I would have waited - given her time to grieve her fathers’ death properly. But this was out of my hands. I hoped that one day she’d let me explain that to her.
