From Across the Lake
rusty_cupcake
Published
01/12/2011
I came to with a horrible singing and ache in my skull, trying to reach the spot on my head that pulsed the most pain, I found that my hands were tied to a chair. FUCK. My legs were also tied as I tried without help to put two and two together. What came next was enough to dilate my barely focusing eyes... sering pain along my right thigh.
Focus of my eyes did not bring more sense to the situation but threw me further from it. It was him, he was cutting me, why? I screamed for him to stop, to please, please stop. My adrenaline raced to the growing wound at my leg as I struggled against the restraints to no avail. Looking up at me i could see he was crying and mumbling to himself about lies and how I would pay. I was able to make out from his blubbering that everything that I had known about this boy was never true. My anger grew I could feel my face grow red, my struggling did nothing but frustrate me to tears.
He cut into me again and I screamed out so loud I swear my throat began to bleed. How was this happening, after all that I had done and believed. I couldn't hold my tongue any longer "FUCK YOU!!! You did this You created this monster...ALL YOUR MONSTERS!!! I cant go back I can't be different than what you created me as. I take nothing back! You made this reality. I will not be punished for Your sins....YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!". He stopped, dropped to his knees in front of me, and appeared to be sobbing. But as he looked up at me I could tell he had a darkness over him, and he began to laugh. That crazy laugh, like the one you see in scary movies. Laughing loudly he shouted at me "YOU KILLED MY FUCKING MOM YOU BITCH!!!".
"NO YOU KILLED HER...you have no idea how many deaths you are responsible for you SICK FUCK!!". That did it, it brought a look of rage to his face that I have seen many a time in men about to lose it. I didn't care, if I was going to die by his hand so be it but I refuse to die slow, take me quickly. A flash of metal connected squarely with his head from somewhere behind him. My eyes taking a moment to focus in the dark I could make out a large figure holding a shovel.
As he stepped into the light from the balcony bay door I could see that it was my father. Being the ever diligent drunken snoopy Irish neighbor had apparently seen what he thought to be something sinister from across the lake. My father gave two more whacks to the now fallen boy I thought I knew's head before making his way over to me. I began to cry as my father held me, I told him that everything the boy told me was a lie. To which my father only said "I know babygirl, never trust a Puerto Rican. But with his death so die his lies".
On the way out my father dumped a couple of cans of gas in the garage under the house, and taking the pack of matches from my jacket I struck two and sent them sailing toward the end of so much of my life.
We both sat on our deck watching the blaze from across the lake sipping on our whiskey.
Focus of my eyes did not bring more sense to the situation but threw me further from it. It was him, he was cutting me, why? I screamed for him to stop, to please, please stop. My adrenaline raced to the growing wound at my leg as I struggled against the restraints to no avail. Looking up at me i could see he was crying and mumbling to himself about lies and how I would pay. I was able to make out from his blubbering that everything that I had known about this boy was never true. My anger grew I could feel my face grow red, my struggling did nothing but frustrate me to tears.
He cut into me again and I screamed out so loud I swear my throat began to bleed. How was this happening, after all that I had done and believed. I couldn't hold my tongue any longer "FUCK YOU!!! You did this You created this monster...ALL YOUR MONSTERS!!! I cant go back I can't be different than what you created me as. I take nothing back! You made this reality. I will not be punished for Your sins....YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!". He stopped, dropped to his knees in front of me, and appeared to be sobbing. But as he looked up at me I could tell he had a darkness over him, and he began to laugh. That crazy laugh, like the one you see in scary movies. Laughing loudly he shouted at me "YOU KILLED MY FUCKING MOM YOU BITCH!!!".
"NO YOU KILLED HER...you have no idea how many deaths you are responsible for you SICK FUCK!!". That did it, it brought a look of rage to his face that I have seen many a time in men about to lose it. I didn't care, if I was going to die by his hand so be it but I refuse to die slow, take me quickly. A flash of metal connected squarely with his head from somewhere behind him. My eyes taking a moment to focus in the dark I could make out a large figure holding a shovel.
As he stepped into the light from the balcony bay door I could see that it was my father. Being the ever diligent drunken snoopy Irish neighbor had apparently seen what he thought to be something sinister from across the lake. My father gave two more whacks to the now fallen boy I thought I knew's head before making his way over to me. I began to cry as my father held me, I told him that everything the boy told me was a lie. To which my father only said "I know babygirl, never trust a Puerto Rican. But with his death so die his lies".
On the way out my father dumped a couple of cans of gas in the garage under the house, and taking the pack of matches from my jacket I struck two and sent them sailing toward the end of so much of my life.
We both sat on our deck watching the blaze from across the lake sipping on our whiskey.
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