Avenging mother.

I could have swon hearing a loud bang from the room below my bedroom. I sat up to listen in. Shuffling of feet, i became certain. This winter night was un usually cold and the fireplace downstairs didn't do as much of work as warm the lower part of the house. I tugged my sleeping rob close to my skin and crept downstairs to the source of the sound. The air was moist as I stealthed to reach the basement through the kitchen, which was still a mess from my birthday party earlier on. I peered down and it seemed like a never ending dark stairway to doom. "You gotta do this, one way or another." I told myself. At the foot of the stairway, there was yet another door that concealed the basement's storage; a couple of our old belongings and tools. The sound was certainly from within. Peeping through a nook in the wooden door, i could perceive two figures, like silhouettes. They seemed to be struggling to gain balance from one another. In the event of it all, one that looked petite and feminine bound the other to the chair, tied up and duck taped him. It was when the hinges creeked that i realised i was leaning in heavy on the door. It gave way and i fell inside, and on the cement floor.

"Aah look who's here." A figure dimmed from the room's poor lighting, was standing over me, as i lay with my back on the floor. There was a numbness on my skull due to the fall. It took me a minute to realise, it was Connie, my baby sister. As I sat up, I saw him. Bound to the chair, all arms and legs. Twitching in a gruesome attempt to utter something over the duck tape. 

"Whaa...what are you doing to dad, Connie!"

"What you should have done along time ago," she resentfully said. Connie's usually light blue eyes, now seemed a darker shade of pearl gray, begging for blood and full of rage.

"Army, you have been a bad sister,bad!" She scoffed. I tried picking up myself in vain. My eyes darted from Connie to dad and back to Connie. The man bound by the ropes is my father or was, when one day he openely declared we weren't of his flesh and blood. In the twenty years i had known him, he had subjected, mother, Connie and I to absolute hurt and pain. He was the reason for mother's death, four years ago, from lung complications due to wife battery. One year after mother's death, he had left without any goodbyes, without his new address, nothing, except a note that Connie had found lying on his bedroom dressing table that cursed afternoon. It read, " Gone to England, brats." Until now, i hadn't see, spoken, looked for or loved him. Yet he was before me, looking frail and pitiful.

"How is this possible, what's he doing here, ho..." My speech was betraying me.

"Shhh, dear Army. That is why you are the gullible and i am the smart one." She narratted how she had searched for him the past years, tracked him down and forged our death documents, so that he may come back home with the aim of selling off mother's house, which was now Connie's and mine. That man did have an overwhelming greed for money and now it was his downfall.

"Enough with the chit chat, I shall end him today." She smacked her lips saying. Connie reached for a hacksaw that sat by the furthest corner. She lunged at him with the hacksaw, which met his tosso at a right angle, gushing out his guts, and spilling blood all over. He slumped to his left and his eyes became white.

"Victory! Today is victorious! Oh and a birthday present for you, Army dearest." She shrieked, giving out a wicked laugh I never knew she could ever even mimic. She was my sweet little Connie. She untied him off the chair and his dying body fell limply to the floor. I had been frozen cold, transfixed to that spot as the death of my father unfolded before me. I had to make a move before sweet Connie turned evil on me too. I made a run for the door, clambered up the basement stairs and out of the house. Never had I been so terrified, confused and weak like i felt at that moment. Connie's sharp voice was yelling some threats after me. As I ran down the block, five house to the sheriff's, i could only visualize the grotesque image of my dead father in a pool of blood. 

Fifteen minutes later, i was walking the sheriff and his sergeant to the basement, explaining to them the details. It is only when i stopped to catch a breath that i realized we were already in, the sheriff and his sergeant staring at me as though i had lost my mind. As i looked around, there wasn't any Connie, the hacksaw, my dead father's corps nor his pool of blood. It was as though nobody had been down there for a couple of months.

Yawning, Connie came through the door in her pink pajamas, hair in two pony tails as though our chaos had woken her from an 'Alice in wonderland' dream. 

"Is anything the matter sherrif?" The nerve of her to ask that question! 

"Your sister says you have murdered your father?" 

Chuckling, she said. "Oh Army! She must have heard one of those nightmares, she has been having them since, you know, ever since our mother..." The sheriff felt sorry for Connie more than he did me. I pleaded with them to no vain, afterall, it was a fact that my dad had left a long time ago. Even to the knowledge of the whole town it was a fact, and non would ever comprehend 17 year old Connie as a murderer. She had played her cards well. Whether she had an accomplice or not, nobody would believe my allegations. The sheriff and his sergeant left. I stood by the window watching their backs disappear. Connie bolted the front door. In the distance, another snow storm was just beginning.