Family Remains {Part 3: Final Part}

Part 31

   I had been raped, having my virginity stolen by my own flesh and blood. My mind found it difficult to wrap itself around the whole idea of it but the recent memories flooded my mind entirely. I began to cry again and couldn’t myself from sobbing uncontrollably. 2

  I laid there for what seemed like an hour before I recollected myself slowly. I dressed myself properly, trying to revive part of my dignity as I lifted my jeans and panties back up. Standing up on my feet while holding onto the bed, my body hurt. Feeling ill, I dropped down to my knees hard. For some odd reason, I felt sick to my stomach. I collapsed down onto the floor and drifted off into unconsciousness….3

  “Wake up pumpkin,” My father’s voice sounded as real as ever once I regained consciousness. His voice was bold and protective but yet stern. I lifted my head up and came to discover my father standing before me wearing his orange prison outfit. His eyes were brown and unappealing. My eyes stared at him in disbelief. I couldn’t believe it. How did he get here? 4

  “Dad?” I asked in astonishment. He looked exactly the same, like when I was four years old. Tremors went down my spine when I realized that I wasn’t dreaming. This was reality. 5

  “Yes, it is me. I’ve come to visit you, my princess. I have to say that you’ve grown into a good looking young lady. You look exactly like your mother.” He smiled down at me, studying me. He seemed genuinely happy to see me once again, like he was going to choke up. I wanted to cry as well. 6

  “I thought you were in jail, still. What are you doing here? How did you escape?” I curiously asked. 7

 “None of that matters. I saw what your uncle did to you. My own brother! If I’ve known that the fucking pervert would hurt you, he never would’ve taken you in. I wouldn’t have allowed it! I’ve always known what he used to do as a living, but to his own niece?! That’s sick!” He yelled furiously, pacing back and forth. “Has he ever hurt you before?” 8

   “Yes,” I shamefully answered. 9

   My father took my face in his large, iron strong hands. “Don’t be ashamed for what he’s done to you. It’s not your fault, not at all. He should pay for what he’s done to you.” 10

   Tears swelled up in my eyes. “How?” 11

   “Make him feel the pain that he inflicted upon you. Make him suffer.” 12

   “But I can’t. I don’t know how.” 13

   “Yes you can. It’s in your blood.” 14

  “I can’t hurt him, Dad. I just can’t. He’s my uncle.” I cried. 15

  “Daddy, I-16

     “I’m not your fucking father. Your father is rotting away in jail.” Uncle Francis’ sudden cold and heartless voice scared me to no end. His foot collided with my stomach, shaking me out of my trance. Gripping my stomach in horrible pain, I looked up to him and discovered my father to be missing. He had been replaced by my uncle. 17

   “But I just saw him a minute ago and-18

  He kicked me again. “Your father’s not here. It was your imagination. You’re being delusional. Even if he was released from jail, there is no way that he would ever come visit you.” 19

  He slapped me hard. “Don’t you raise your voice to me. I’m your legal guardian. Now get your ass up. There’s a sink full of dishes that you need to go wash so get going!” 20

  Watching him walk out of the room, I clenched my fists and forced down all of my emotions. I was tired of my uncle Francis. I was tired of being scared, worrying when the next time will be that he’ll be set off and decide to beat on me. Deep down inside of me, I hated him not for the abuse but for brutally taking away the one thing that I thought I had control over. He could beat me a thousand times, until I was as black and lifeless as coal but this evening, he crossed the line. 21

  “Make him feel the pain that he inflicted upon you. Make him suffer.”  In the back of my head, I could still hear my father’s voice. His voice rang through my ears and acted like my conscious. I finally agreed with my father, even if he was here as a hallucination or real….22

23

   Feeling my eyes on him, looked over to me. I cannot tell you how uncomfortable it made him feel. “What are you doing, you freak?” 24

    I bit down on my lip nervously. “Nothing. I thought I heard something.” 25

  “Maybe I will,” I muttered under my breath as I started walking towards the kitchen. Making my way over to the kitchen, I passed by the living room couch, within touching distance of my uncle. Before I got away, I felt his rough bare hand smack my backside. Without having to turn around, I knew that he was smirking devilishly. 26

   Once I was in the kitchen, I eyed the knifes desirably. Inspecting the sharp silver knives, I found a nice one that I thought would be absolutely perfect. Like a little girl who would play with dolls, I played with the sharp pointed knife in my hands while humming a soft tune. 27

   I whirled around and stared at the back of my uncle as he continued to watch TV. Deviously, I walked towards him with the knife still in my hands. When I was directly behind him, I raised the knife just above his head. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest as I felt the impulse to stab him right in the back of the head. Having, my hand with the raised knife shaking apprehensively, a voice in the back of my head suddenly talked to me again. It was my father’s voice talking. 28

   Before I could take action, my uncle abruptly turned around to face me. He stood up and in a flash, he angrily stormed over to me. To defend myself, I stabbed him in the shoulder.  He groaned in pain, pulling the knife out and throwing it to the floor. 29

   Attempting to bend down and grab the knife, he struck me in the face, sending me down to the floor. He kicked me in the face and this time, he reached for the knife. Recovering faster than he assumed, I snatched the blade before he could and in the blink of an eye, I thrusted the knife through his left leg. 30

   Shouting out in pain, he stumbled to the ground. “Carmella! Carmella, call the police now!” He screamed. As hard as I could, I punched him in his jaw, his head slamming against the wooden floor. I climbed on top him but he didn’t give up. Striking me in the face a second time, he fought with me. “Carmella!” Before I knew it, Carmella was rushing down the stairs like a lunatic. 31

   I punched him once, then twice before raising the knife to him. I stared down at Uncle Francis, ready to stab him brutally. His face was bloody by now and he was groaning in pain horribly. 32

   “You can’t kill me, Sadie. I gave you a home, food and love. I’m your uncle for Christ’s sake.” Uncle Francis pleaded with me, fear in his voice. 33

  “I loved you, Uncle Francis like my own father but you were nothing but a cold, heartless monster. My father was right about you.” I coldly replied. 34

  “You’re no better than your father if you kill me. Please, just put the knife down. We’ll work things out.” He begged. I snickered. How did he feel to be the one having to beg? It wasn’t so funny, now was it? Before I change my mind, I stabbed him in the throat. Pulling the knife out, I did it again and again, stabbing him at lease five times in the throat. Blood spurted out, covering part of him and drenching my weapon. Breathing heavily, I inspected my artwork. He was dead; there was no doubt about that. That was when something snapped deep inside of me. I could no longer deny the fact of how I enjoyed killing my uncle. It had felt so good and I wondered if my father felt that way when he murdered my mother. 35

  Not feeling satisfied, I rammed the bloody knife into both his eyes and then into his face multiple times. Warm, sticky blood squirted on me but I couldn’t care in the least. 36

37

   Carmella suddenly ran up the stairs to hide from me, terrified of what she witnessed instead of fighting me for killing her precious lover. She was most definitely going to call for help. Throwing the knife aside, I stood up and messily wiped the blood off my face. 38

   I rummaged through the living room closet and came across a metal bat. Picking it up, I chose it as my next weapon. Carmella may have not been cruel to me but the various times she slapped me around and got me in trouble were the things that she was guilty for. She was also a horrible person for watching my uncle beat me to a pulp all those times. And for that, she was going to pay. 39

   Walking up the stairs, I kicked the bedroom door open cruelly. Carmella scared and dropped the cordless phone in terror. She backed away into the far corner. 40

  “Please don’t hurt me! Oh god, please don’t do this!” She was hysterical, covering her tear streaked face with her trembling hands. “I didn’t do anything to you!” 41

   I inched closer to her as each second passed. “That’s the problem. You did nothing. You just stood there and happily watched your fucking boyfriend beat the shit out of his poor, defenseless niece! I know that you enjoyed seeing it happen because you hate me.” 42

   “The police will be here any minute. They’ll come and lock you up.” She sobbed. 43

44

   It seemed almost too easy for me. She barely fought back (only kicked me away from her once). I beat her head and face in with the metal bat until her head was crumbled in to itself messily. 45

    Releasing my grip onto the bat, I allowed it to drop to the ground with all its might. I looked at my wonderful artwork, my second piece of art I may say and then headed off into the hallway. I strolled casually into my bedroom and sat down on the soft cushioned bed. A wave of freedom and justice (revenge) flowed through me. As the sirens neared, the voice in my head came back. 46

   I am most proud of you, Sadie.  Now, your uncle can never harm you. 47

~~**~~48

    For the very first time, I received a letter from within my jail cell. It had been two weeks since I had been arrested and then convicted of murder. The guard slipped a folded piece of paper through the jail bars. It flew gracefully to the hard, cold grey ground. I waited for him to leave before I grabbed the letter. I unfolded it and read it carefully. It was handwritten:   49

Sadie, 50

 I’ve only recently heard about what happened two weeks ago. Your uncle…he abused and raped you and so they said you just snapped and lost it afterwards. Then, you murdered not only your uncle but also his little girlfriend. They told me how you did it and well, I’m pretty impressed with you. It sounds like you really gave that bitch of his a beating…hahaha.  Being a killer, it runs in your blood, I guess. But don’t worry, I’m being released in a year or two. You should understand what that means for you, don’t ya?   51

 Love, Dad     52

 I took the letter and hugged it to my chest affectionately. He truly cared for me and was going to plan my break out once he was released. For that, I was glad, although I didn’t mind being locked up in a small jail cell (I barely noticed it with the way I always off into another world).  It felt good to know that my father cared enough for me to want to get me out of here. And besides, I’m his only family left and family remains forever… 53

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