Escape

                Shivering in fear, I cower under the meager shelter of the rickety old table, flinching violently in whole-body convulsions at every slight noise. I know any moment now, he’ll come crashing in, shouting incomprehensibly and irreversibly drunk, find me, drag me out with no care for my fragility, and begin his horrible routine. So tense that it feels painful, I wait in fear of the next passing second. Clenching my hands together, my nervous tic, I feel a stickiness within my grasp, but painstakingly moving my neck from its stiff position, I can’t properly discern what substance coats my fingers with such a cold finality. I began the arduous task of emerging into the light, which began to burn my eyes.

 Had I been in the dark for so long?

That was the last coherent thought formulated within my overworked, under-aged mind, right before I caught the sight of the blood red liquid crusted accusingly in a thick coat over my fragile fingers.

***

Over the early years of my life, which are (typically and correctly assumed, as well as proven statistically) those that are most easily imprinted upon, countless acts of utterly cruel punishment and torturing methods have emerged. The fact that so many creatively disturbing techniques to inflict pain upon a person is amazing when coming from a warped person who conveys the image of a purely instinctual and emotionally-driven creature, not even qualified for being called a human being. But even in an intensely unstable mental state, against all calculations and odds, the horrid man has yet to come up with an idea that causes less misery and torture than, for example, the feeling of boiling one’s entire body within oil, constantly, with no respite. Perhaps his voice is marred by the slurring attempt at using his voice through his alcoholic faze. Perhaps the loud, fumbling footsteps are clearly heard as heavy forewarnings of what is to come throughout the house. Yet the eyes, the beady, black pits never change, the cunning glimmer, if only in formulating inhumane ideas. For not only does he utilize the numerous nerves for sensing pain throughout the human body, but his plans exploit the human mind, which has been praised for its ingenious capabilities. It just makes the pain all the more unbearable.

At the ripe age of six, I was quite thoroughly powerless to even attempt to defend myself from these atrocious acts. But now, after surviving seven years of this endless abuse, I would not be overestimating my veteran experiences in this field, and by no means will I stand to being called weak. How much willpower must it have taken to survive this long, to avoid falling into the pitch black pit, the hopeless abyss, the despairing hell, of giving up? I fully understood my capabilities, or rather, my incapabilities, how inadequate the meager, pathetic, and pitiful powers I had. So I survived this long to grasp at a chance to escape this agonizing inferno of misery.

The idea blossomed on the eve of my tenth birthday, the only path possible for the liberation from this world. I had been cultivating the idea for three years, and it grew into a fully-fledged raptor, ready to hop on and fly off and away with. And I am going to hop on the bird, and leave this miserable life forever. Whether the blood on my hands will every wash of is questionable, very possibly impossible, but I don’t care. Thus I put my plan into action, the plan that has been edited, changed, and adapted to every possible circumstance.

***

Researching and acquiring the most potent yet unnoticeable drug for impenetrable sleep.

          Oiling the hinges. Fixing the creaks. Necessary for ultimately silent and undetectable stealth.

           Careful studies on the biologically crucial and vital areas of the human body.

            Extensive practice on aim and accuracy.

And personally sharpening my weapon of choice, a cumbersome but effective kitchen butcher knife, a perfect fit for the immoral, filthy, scum of a pig that he is.