What The Fuck Polibio?!

forty seven

Christina's Dad's pov:

i ran out of money and i had to leave the hotel. i had to go back and live with my terrible excuse for a wife. i felt helpless against her. i felt worthless. christina i'm so sorry we put you through that sweetheart.

i walked into the house as i still had my key. i heard my wife in the kitchen banging pots and pans together. so fucking unnecessary.

"where the fuck have you been?" my wife yelled at my face.

"you know where i've been. you showed up to my hotel" i told her.

i knew if i talked back, i would get something either thrown at me or hit with something. normally our arguments were in the kitchen or living room so there was always something in reach for her to throw my way. almost the second we realized christina had ran away, she started taking her anger out on me. what an amazing life i had to live.

"no where the fuck were you now? you weren't at your hotel, i went there" she yelled at me.

⚠️ graphic

shit. i was out with christina. should i tell her the truth or should i lie. i didn't want to put my only daughter in danger. we've put her in enough danger already i mean she's been beaten more than enough times already. i couldn't put her through anymore shit.

"i was out with my daughter she was telling me about this little boyfriend of hers" i said confidently.

"your? your daughter? a boyfriend? are you fucking kidding me?!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

"a boyfriend yes" i stated regretting ever saying a damn thing about her boyfriend.

"what's his name" she said as more of a demand than a question.

"i'm not telling-" i was interrupted.

"tell me now!" she screamed in my face.

"mattia" i uttered.

she snickered, grabbing a pan in her right hand. her right hand was her dominant hand. i knew this was about to be bad. she threw it at me and i went to duck. i was too late. it hit me in the shoulder and knocked me off my feet. i tried to get up but she came at me once again with a burning hot pan, she had been cooking with previously. she pressed the back side to my cheek. i yelled in pain.

"fuck you! this is why she ran away!" i tried to yell but i was out of breath.

she lifted the pan off of my face leaving my cheek steaming. she then took some wire off of the shelf. why the fuck she had wire on the shelf, i couldn't tell you.

she wrapped the wire around my neck and held it tight. i was losing my breath. i couldn't breath. she dragged me by the wire tied around my neck to the kitchen table and secured me to it. she began walking back to the kitchen. she grabbed a steak knife. this psycho bitch.

"you're going to learn not to talk to me like that again" she smirked.

she then pressed the share part of the knife against my cheek where the burn was. i screamed in paint and agony. she smiled as i saw a lightbulb light up above her head. she ran to the kitchen and held the knife over the lit stove. she came back and the knife was blue and orange. she began pressing it onto my skin before turning it over and cutting me with it. she ran it all up and down my arms, leaving me bloody. she started to slightly stab me here and there before inserting deep cuts into my thigh, arm, and chest. i was bleeding so much, my vision began to go blurry.

i couldn't tell if she was trying to kill me or torture me or just leave me with a shit ton of scars.

then, i figured it out, the hard way. she lodged the heated knife into my chest. this time, a very audible scream came out of my mouth as she slowly pulled it out of my body, laughing maniacally.

"help! anyone!" i screamed at the top of my lungs as i watched my wife walk away from my dying soul and body.

i heard the front door open, not long after, i heard the car start and drive away.

"help!" i screamed.

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