For the Sake of Revenge

The silence draped over everything. Just days ago this place was bustling with energy, now it's still as death. Cold and hostile. For a moment she thought she could have seen a moving shadow ahead of her. Floating prissily across the room. Almost ignoring her existence. She squinted her eyes harder into sharp slits, but it was futile. There was nothing to be seen. Perhaps the fear is playing tricks on both of her vision and mind.

She glared at the bed under the window. Untouched and tightly made. Aching for the feel of skin against it. She saw his sickly form lying on the bed. She saw him as he looked just days before he left her and the world. Gaunt face, eyes sunken deep in his skull, head hairless and glistening with sweat.

His feverish trembling shook his emaciated body harder than an electric bolt running through a human body. Making him look more pitiful and defeated. Revenge was finally taken. Although its still didn’t bless her with any kind of contentment.

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She is five now, huddling in a fetus position inside her closet. Hearing his raging yells from a distance. Feeling his heavy stomps as he rampaged through the house. She covered her mouth with both hands to restrict the sobbing, any noise that might lead him to her. She didn’t mean to. She didn’t intend on entering his den. She didn’t want to spill the ink on his business papers. She only wanted a pair of scissors to cut the outline of a Barbie from a magazine and glue it to her notebook. She only wanted a pair of scissors.

She is eight now, sitting soberly on the dining table. Her mother’s tired face hovered over her plate like a dull moon. She was still beautiful despite his many attempts to kill her beauty. Her brother that was growing more like him every day sat beside her. Chewing blandly at his rice morsels. He sat at the head of the table. Ignoring everything around him but his heavy platter. She looked at him but averted her eyes quickly, in fear of what he might do if he didn’t like it. She reached for her glass of water; her short fingers barely wrapped around half of it. The room is warm and the drink is cold. Condensation formed on the glass. It's slipping, but she could catch it. She missed and it hit the floor with an ear blasting shatter. Pieces flying around in slow motion. A gasp was caught in her throat as she felt the creeping of her heart up her esophagus. Her eyes widened into fearful wet orbs. She raised her head just in time to meet his fist.

She is 13 now, on her way to her first birthday party. It was her dearest, closest friend. She couldn’t miss it out for the world. Her gift that nested under her bed for the past two weeks was starting to collect some dust. She pulled it out, blew at the dust hastily, and slipped her way slowly out the door. Her mother promised to keep him occupied until she comes back. She would tell him that the girl is preparing for the coming exams. That she needs all the time in her day to remain in her room and study. The party was everything she hoped for. A fun gathering of friends that would bless her with nostalgic memories of youth until her final days. Her heart was dancing while she sneaked cautiously into the house. The entrance was unusually dark and hostile, like his decaying soul. It should have been a warning; it should have been a sign. It should have told her that the dancing of her heart would finally stop with the kicking of his feet. Repeatedly booting her tender ribs until the world around her drowned in darkness.

She is 17 now, on her way to college. The boy next door kept describing his admiration to her in a form of childish winks and toothy grins. Sometimes he threw a flower at her from a distance, sometimes he played a romantic song from his car loud enough for her to hear. His attention created excited little bubbles in her that exploded in trepidation. The boy created the same scene every time she left the house. Although she liked the attention, she never dreamt of reacting to his actions of admiration. Replying to his calls of love. One day she decided to defy her shyness, and her fear of constantly being watched by her father. One day she smiled back at the lanky adolescent. A sweet broken smile that erected the boy's soul and manhood. On that day her father happened to watch her from the window, witness her atrocious act of adultery, of perversion. His anger refused to deflate before breaking a tooth or more from that heinous smile.

She is 23 now, standing solemnly over his empty bed. Her bitten nails digging inside her sweaty palms as she balled her fists in rage. He died before she could flaunt her successes. Before she could tell him that his screams deferred from haunting her nightmares. That her constant fear of being watched had banished from her for eternity. He left before she could tell him that she isn’t afraid anymore. She doest hold this paralyzing fear at the mention of his name anymore. He died before she could taste the sweet bitter tang of revenge that shall linger in her taste buds till the end of time.