Like Father Like Son
He rolled his eyes. “As naïve as ever. This has been a long
time coming, you know. I can’t believe it took you this long to find out. Then
again, you were never the smart one in the relationship.”
My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. “Says
the one who got caught.”
He snorted. “Don’t you get it? I wanted to get caught. I wanted
you to find out. I wanted this to
hurt you.”
I ground my teeth together. “Why? Was dumping me like a
normal person too hard?”
“Call it a social experiment,” he said, watching me
intently. “Everybody always says like father like son, but you are most
certainly nothing like your father. Mommy dearest, on the other hand, you are
very much like.”
“Stop it,” I said through gritted teeth. Tears welled in my
eyes.
“But what I really wanted to know is if you would come
crawling back to me, like Mommy to Daddy every time he beat her within an inch
of her life. That is, until he finally drove her to drink herself into oblivion
and she fell down a flight of stairs. Or did he beat her to death? Either way,
she was dumber than you are.”
My blood boiled as I flashed back to watching my father
murder my mother. “Take it back.”
A sinister smile curled his lips. “Or what? What are you
gonna do to me? The same thing Mommy did?”
My upper lip trembled with fury. I grabbed one of his little
statuettes from the shelves lining his office. Then I charged across the
office.
As I ran toward him, confusion furrowed his brow until
understanding dawned on him. His eyes shone with fear, and he scrambled out
from behind his desk. But he was too late.
I swung the statuette back and brought it down on his head.
He yelped and stumbled to the floor. Straddling him, I brought the statuette
down on his head over and over again. I beat him well past death and continued
to beat him after his skull fractured into a million pieces. Bits of his brain
clung to the statuette and the walls and shelves.
My rage subsided as I raised the statuette again. I stared
down at the bloody mess before me. I used to love this man. And now he was
dead.
I scrambled to my feet, the statuette still clutched in my
hand. My hands trembled as panic bubbled in my chest. I dropped the statuette
in the trash can, grabbed the trash bag, and hurried to the bedroom to clean
myself up.
Once I’d changed and washed all the blood off, I went back
to the office one last time before I left. I looked down at my ex’s body and
said, “Like father, like son.”
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