digging up old memories

Today I was looking through some stuff on my computer, and I found a piece of writing that I actually really like. Yes, I wrote this, and to be honest, I can't believe I did. I'm pretty impressed with myself, quite frankly. Good job, younger Faith. Haha. Anyways, I'm just gonna share it here. You're welcome to leave feedback and stuff. I will now go to bed because I've got school tomorrow.

The Anniversary 

The last time I saw him...I try not to think about it. But the memories come anyway, cascading down in a white torrent of reminiscence. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to close out the sounds of banging and metal grinding against metal. His face suddenly shimmers into my mind. Those eyes, cold and emotionless... But only towards her. Whenever I looked at him his eyes melted into love and care. A smile would grow on his chapped lips, and his arms would open, inviting me into a warm embrace. 

I never hugged him. I never hugged him because those were the same arms that would cause streams of crimson ink to run down her head, the same hands that would ball into hard fists and hit her over and over and over till she couldn't even open her eyes, lest the last thing she would ever see was this heartless monster. If he came closer to finish her off, she would hold her breath, hold it for as long as possible, lest the last thing she smelled was the pungent stench of eye-watering alcohol. 

The last time I saw him, he was sprawled over the living room floor, bleeding to death. If there was anything he deserved, that was it. Death. I remember the look of betrayal he had worn in his last seconds of living. 

"Why?" He'd managed to croak. 

I stayed silent, proud of my act of vengeance. He loved me, I knew he did. But I couldn't love a man who was violent and brutal. Not towards her. Not towards her. 

Gripping the blade tightly in my hand, I bent over him, scrutinizing the gory wound in his chest. 

"Because you deserve it," I hissed coldly. 

      I'd never intended the murder of my father. Maybe he didn't expect my mother to pass out and die from his series of constant blows, either. But who am I kidding? He hit her like he wanted her to die. And when she did, I lost it. My mother, who put up with this horrendous beast just so I could still lead a "normal" life, my mother who died whilst in an abusive relationship, because she knew that if she were to leave, she would have taken me. She didn't do that, however. She didn't do that because she knew she had no financial aid and I wouldn't be able to continue my education and we'd be homeless on the streets. 

But maybe that would have been better for her. 

I open my eyes once more and stare at the gray wall opposite me. I run my fingers through my hair and smile. Today is the fifth anniversary of my father's death, the day I murdered him, finished him off, gave him the only thing he was worthy of having. And there's no where I'd rather be, than here in my cell, away from my mother's never-ending screams for help, away from the smell of alcohol that always lingered in the air.

So yes! I hope you liked that. Dark things are cool. 

xx.