"I've cried for the final time."

Another night . . . will he come?


 

I pray as not and hope he would stay away.  Damnable fiend . . . is what he is . . . evil . . . predator . . . rapist bastard. 

 

He will come . . . and go . . . and leave me in pain, in tears . . . bleeding and ashamed.

 

How much longer?  How long has it been?  How long . . . since my trust was shattered; cast aside like a dirty rag into a can of garbage?

 

Why?  Why does he do this?  Why does he come?  Why does he hurt me and tell me not to tell anyone?   

 

As long as it’s me . . . I know she’s okay.

 

She?  She is so young . . . so beautiful . . . so naïve . . . so trusting. 

 

She is just like me.  Or, what I used to be . . . before he stole my innocence from me.  If that is so then she will be next.  She will be.  I know.  I am certain.

 

He is waiting . . . biding his time . . . coming to me until she is ripe for the picking, the plucking, the . . . I shiver at the thought and feel bile rise up in my throat.

 

With baited breath I wait.

 

The door creaks open.  I close my eyes.  A single tear drops from one eye as I hear him.  His footsteps . . . clopping on the floor in those damned work boots.  His breath stinks of whiskey and beer.  His skin is sweaty . . . dirty . . .

 

Fight?  No.  It does no good.  It only makes him angry and then he makes it hurt more.  I fade . . . there is a place I can’t be touched.  I go there to dream my dreams of a younger time.  Before . . . before he became the beast he is now.

 

Awaken . . .

 

He is gone.  In his wake is pain . . . blood . . . There are no tears.  I've cried for the final time.  Never shall there be any more shameful tears of pain coming from my baby blues.

 

Softly . . . I tread from my room to hers.  Awakening her I lead her out of the house. 

 

Turning back . . . I must do what I can . . . if not for me, then for her.  She is young.  So beautiful . . . so trusting . . . so naïve . . . I can’t let him destroy her the way he destroyed me.  I can’t let him steal her innocence.

 

I tip toe . . . into his bedroom.  He sleeps alone.  He has ever since Mommy left.  I should hate her also.  It’s her fault things are the way they are.

 

The bat feels cool in my hands. 

 

One swing . . . a crack . . . a scream . . . a rib is broken.  I hope more than just one.  He rolls off the bed.  Perfect.

 

Two swings . . . across the spine the second one connects.  A thud . . . another crack, this one louder and sickening to the ears.  I feel as if I’ll throw up.  He screams louder . . . He is in pain.

 

I smile.

 

Three swings . . . this one breaks a leg bone above the knee.

 

Four swings . . .

 

Five swings . . .

 

Six swings . . .

 

Broken legs . . . Several bones shattered . . . He’ll never walk again.

 

What’s this?

 

Please . . . No more . . . Oh, God, please stop . . .

 

Is he begging?  For mercy?  I believe he is.  After all those times I begged and pleaded with him to stop.  He never did.

 

Neither shall I.

 

Seven swings . . . There is a loud pop as the hand he held up in front of him for protection shatters.  Another scream.  This one is followed by tears and more blubbering and begging.

 

I walk out . . . I do come back. 

 

The red can is heavy but I manage.  He tries to fight . . . to crawl away.  I kick him in a broken leg.  He screams again.

 

The smell of gas fills the room . . . I pour it on him . . . make a trail to the doorway.  I open the door and prepare to run out.

 

He’s still begging . . .

 

The match comes to life with one try . . . much to my delight . . . much to his dismay.  A flick of the wrist and he is engulfed in flames.

 

Screams fill my ears.  I am deaf to his cries for mercy . . . just as he was to mine.

 

I long to watch, but I know I can’t.

 

I leave.

 

Outside . . . she and I watch as the house burns.  I hold her . . . she cries . . . It’s better this way.

 

He can’t hurt her.

 

She is so young . . . so beautiful . . . so naïve . . . so trusting.  And she always will be.

 

He can’t steal her innocence.