“You wouldn’t have to knock him out with whiskey if you just gave him to me for a few weeks. How about this summer?” he quipped.
“Well, we’ve already discussed this, haven’t we? Why don’t you wait for him in his room while I prepare him for you.” I could hear my uncle getting nearer to me and the man standing and walking further from us as he talked.
“At least I’ll have him all to myself tonight,” he joked, which grabbed my uncle’s attention. He didn’t see when I opened my eyes even though he’d bent, lowering his head right over me. His right hand wrapped around my chin, extending my neck while his left held the syringe.
I waited to hear the clicking of the door behind the man after he’d walked out before grabbing the back of my uncle’s nape and stabbing him in his tummy. As he stepped back, the knife, which I still held so strongly, slipped out. There was a resistance to it, as if his body wanted to keep it inside. In the low lighting of the office, the blood poured from it to the carpet. He looked down then to me. The location of the laceration kept him from making a sound, but I saw the surprise in his bulging eyes. Dropping the syringe, he plastered his palms over the bleeding wound.
The drunkenness had me struggling with my unsteady steps, but I managed to arrive right before him to stab him again.I hesitated, knowing this moment would mark my life. There would only be a before and after murdering my uncle. But there was a hunger I needed to satisfy. I wanted to feel it breaking the skin, expanding that gash, slicing through his organs again and slipping out so easily. So, I stabbed him again.
He let out a sound, “Gaooog.”
Holy feck, that felt good.The knife resisted exiting again, but I refused to let go of it, and it slipped out, dripping more blood. The second wound was so close to the first that the blood from it was spilling out faster.
“K-Killian,” he called, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just done.
“No one gets to touch my wife and live,” I stated.
The exhilaration and drunkenness danced in my head. I never thought I could feel so much happiness. I’d finally stabbed him.
I’d finally fecking stabbed him!
I couldn’t contain my pride and joy. I laughed, then realized there was nothing I wanted more than to do it all over again. Holding the knife with all my might, I swung it through the air, missing him a few times as he backed away, then slashing his hand. With each slash, he’d wince and hiss from the pain.
He raised his bloody hand, trying to block the next assault, but all that did was allow another gash to his hand. “K-Kil-lian…” Blood drenched his other hand. He kept backing away from me, leaving pools of blood on the rug, until he tripped and fell on his back.
It gave me time to walk around his body, and then I stabbed his stomach again. Blood started coming up and out of his wounds and mouth.
“You will never touch her! None of you will!” I said through my teeth as I pulled the knife and buried it again. Once I knew he couldn’t hurt me or move, I went for the bottle of whiskey, spilled some by the hidden door, and returned to drain the restof the contents all over him. Afterward, I threw the bottle against the bookshelves, grabbed the matches from my pocket, and lit one. His horrified gaze was satisfying. I’d never seen my uncle scared of anything.
Freedom was so close.
“Are you begging me for mercy?” I asked while the match burned between my fingers.
He nodded.
A tiny smile lifted the right corner of my lips. “Well… too fecking bad.” I threw the match on top of him, and the beautiful blue flames spread where the alcohol had sloshed, then the orange fire rose.
My voices were silent.
I had the pleasure of clearly hearing the flame spread over him while he drowned in his own blood. The alcohol, the flames, and burning flesh permeated the air. Every time he tried to scream, the blood rose up through his mouth and silenced him.
If there was one thing I’d learned from watching and reading horror stories like those of Kealan P. Burke, Stephen King, and Darren Shan, it was that the monsters always found a way to return even from death, so I waited until I was sure he was truly dead. His body quaked and even tried to move around. I simply stepped back while refusing to take my eyes off him. The flames spread from his clothes and body to the rug, then to the desk, but I stayed there even when the heat got too close. I didn’t mind it spreading. In fact, I wanted it to burn the entire house with everyone but Mum in it.
He's gone. He’s really gone.I laughed with joy, closed my eyes, and tasted the freedom. It was strange to not fear him or the fire.My monster is finally dead.I had to remind myself repeatedly there was nothing to fear because he couldn’t hurt me anymore. I’d gotten so used to being afraid of him that it was a part of me. But I wanted it gone, just like him.
I’m safe… He’s gone. All gone.
Still I couldn’t shake it off, part of me panicked and mourned the loss of the object that triggered my constant my hate and fear; it searched for something or someone to replace it with, but there was nothing, at least not in that room.
I grabbed the glass of whiskey he’d filled to the brim for me and took one more sip. “Cheers, Uncle…” I threw the glass in the air toward him. The drops of whiskey that poured from the cup as the glass flew caught fire right away.
The smoke forced me out the door. The farther I moved away, the more I realized just how inebriated I was. I wished I wouldn’t have been as drunk so I could’ve been more present and clearer of mind. The stupor added a layer of numbness I knew to be unsafe but couldn’t shake. I needed to be less nonchalant and more alert of what I had just done and was about to do.
Uncle’s office was gigantic, so the fire wasn’t yet noticeable outside. I walked to my bedroom and pressed my ear to the door to listen in. The halls were empty. I could hearhiminside, pacing, probably impatient because Uncle had not yet dropped off my limp body for him to enjoy. From outside, I quietly and slowly locked the room and poured the remnants of the whiskey all over the door.
The music from downstairs was still blaring but not enough to drown out all the sex in the bedrooms. Oh-too calmly I walked into Mum’s room. At first, I paused and stared at her sleeping in the middle of her bed so peacefully and deeply. Her breathing was so calm. Then it dawned on me how it was next to impossible to wake her sometimes.
I hurried onto her bed, then shook her. “Mum!”
