Like Father, like?

I love my town, I love my family and my home. My Mother is a angel from heaven and my little brothers and sisters are my world. I would do anything for their protection.

What I don't love is the woods behind our farm. I used to play in them as a kid, me and my little brothers and sisters would spend many hours out there. Safe in our own perfect world.

The woods were magic to us, the pain of home far away. My father was a cruel man, if he wasn't being violent towards us he was being violent towards our mom. I always hated him and couldn't wait until I could leave the farm. He wasn't just cruel to us, he was cruel to animals as well. I remember staring in horror when it came time to slaughter the Christmas pig.

It was just a pig, raised for the supper table. No different than the previous years, except this year it was my turn to help Dad. He strung it up by its feet and poked at it with a red hot poker. He laughed while it squealed in pain the burning flesh stung my nose.

I begged him to stop it, to just cut it's throat and let the poor creature die!

He came over and placed the poker against my neck. As I cried out he bent over me and whispered into my ear.

"You're just like me, you know that right? You can pretend all you want, but you're my child and I know how far this apple fell." He walked over to the pig pulled out his knife and slit it's throat. Silencing the creatures cries for good.

That Christmas I didn't eat dinner I stayed in my room and pretended I was sick. My mom gave me some broth made from the bones of the pig. I pretended to drink but when she left poured it out the window. I'm nothing like my father.

Years passed and I was seventeen. Almost grown up and ready to face the world as a adult. One night as I was checking in on my younger siblings I heard crying from Sophie's room.

She was only six the baby of the house. She almost died because dad threw mom down the stairs and caused her premature birth. All of us were agreed on protecting her.

I ran, throwing open her door and turning on the light I saw my father in her bed trying to touch her under her nightgown. He had one hand clamped over her mouth, he reeked of beer.

I saw red and blacked out, when I came to he was lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. Sophie was silently sobbing in the corner. I tried to comfort her when I realized that I had his blood on my hands.

"Shh, it's ok." I whispered to her, trying my best not to scare her even more.

Eventually I was able to calm her and I coaxed her into staying silent. Putting her to bed in my oldest sister's room, I set to work on getting rid of the evidence.

I dragged my father's body out into the shed and threw it into the wheelbarrow. Grabbing a shovel and flashlight I headed into the dark trees.

Walking for over an hour I eventually found a spot none of us kids had ever been. I began to dig, every plunge of the shovel reminded me of every instance of abuse from my father. I pushed his body into the hole and buried him. I went home and began to clean.

Scrubbing the wheelbarrow, shovel and rug with hydrogen peroxide I made sure that there would be no stains. My work was finally done in the wee hours of the morning and I climbed into bed. I trembled at the realization that I had taken a human life!

When my mother asked where my father was, I told her that I saw him go out for a cigarette around 10 the previous night. I was able to bribe my sisters into remaining quiet. I promised them presents and that things would be better from now on.

Three days passed and my mother reported my father missing. The police didn't do much but put up a missing persons notice. The days turned into weeks and soon a full year had passed.

I got a job at the local movie theater to help support the family. Life was good without my father, everyone was happier and we felt free. I never returned to the woods, always claiming to be too busy if the little ones tried to coax me into playing. Some nights when I get in very late I swear I can hear his shouting at my window. I lie down and tremble at the memories of blood on my hands and the smell of dirt.

It happened one night, I was locking the doors to the Cineplex when I heard a noise behind me. I spun around to come face to face with him! My father was right there, smiling at me. I cried out and pulled out my pepper spray. Spraying it into his eyes he fell on the ground in pain. I picked up a large rock and slammed it into his head. I couldn't think I grabbed him and threw him into the trunk of my car.

I drove until I found an abandoned hunting shack. Dragging him inside I tied him to a chair, he was still breathing. He looked up at me and smiled again, I screamed in rage and began to hit him. When I stopped he was still laughing at me.

"I told you, you're just like me." He said, blood dripping from his mouth.

I went outside and paced around wondering what to do. Heading to my car for a cigarette I found the box cutter that I keep in my glove box.

I picked it up, it felt right in my hands. I smiled, this time I'll make sure he's dead. I'll make sure no one will ever find him, but not before I have my fun.

I wonder how loud he squeals?