𝒮𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓉.

𝒪𝓃𝑒.

After a while, we finally arrived. The police car stopped right in front of my door. They ordered me to get out, even if it still was raining.

They escorted me to the door and waited for me to get in.

Of course, there wasn't anyone waiting for me.

Not even my father, how weird.

I took off my black Vans and my wet hoodie, and hung it up in the coatrack. But of course, she needed to appear.

Of course, right now, when I have a pounding headache.

"What are you doing here again?!? It's three in the bloody morning! Where were you?!"

"It's not like you care, so shut the fuck up, you slut!"

"Don't talk to your mother like that!"

Then a stinging pain followed her words. She slapped me.

"You will never be my real mother! Where's my father?!"

"That old fucker? Come here! He is waiting for you in your room!" She said smiling.

'Something's definitely wrong.'

I just went upstairs, ignoring that drunken bitch. Entering my room, I froze. Oh, god. The sight.

My mind went blank in a millisecond. All I could think about right now was what was in front of me. My dear father. Murdered. Slaughtered. With his guts all over my carpet and a pool of dried blood under him. The most disgusting thing was his terrified expression. In those lifeless green eyes of his, was held betrayal, betrayal of the woman he managed to love.

All the memories with him suddenly entered my mind. The times we went to the park, the times we played when I was a kid. My mother always present. But of course, she had to leave. Leave right that unfortunate night. And then that bitch came in our lives. A wave of nausea went over me and I ran to the bathroom of my room, throwing up whatever I had eaten this morning and in the bar. Suddenly I noticed the strong smell of rotten corpse in the room, making me dry heave in the toilet. But I got up, shaking violently.

All the thoughts in my mind got blocked by a single emotion.

Hatred.

Revenge.

I wanted to kill that old bitch.

And I was going to do it.

I walked downstairs with relief, silently. Today was the day I was going to get rid of her. Finally.

I went to where the knifes were.

Mindlessly, I took the most sharp in my hand and studied it. It was my father's favorite cooking knife.

Humming a song I remembered from the party I was before, I went to the living room to find that bitch drinking from a cheap wine bottle. I walked to her, and she turned to see me.

"What the fuck do you wan-"

And then without thinking, I stabbed her. One, two, three times. She stopped talking and coughed blood, only to fall limp to the floor a few seconds later.

I felt my hand shake.

I was holding my breath.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

But the worst, or best of it, was that...

I didn't regret a single thing of it.

And then I ran.

I ran, and ran until I couldn't feel my legs anymore.

Until my lungs were pleading for me to stop.

Until I felt my chest burning in agony.

Suddenly I was in the highway from before, the bar closed behind me.

But I still ran.

I ran so much, that I didn't see a purple car appear.

And then everything went black, a shock of pain running through my body.

Hopefully this was the end.

Hopefully I could be in peace.

Finally.

It seems that all was over now.

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