The Last Day...(a short story)
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"You listen to me-you're not going anywhere. You think you can just use this house like a hotel and come and go as you please." My father's voice boomed throughout the house. As a result, I took a step away from him and found my back against the wall. Trembling, I apologized, but that did not satisfy my father's drunken rage.
My father's massive body came at me, raising his arm above his head he sent me tumbling into the kitchen. He was like a firecracker with a short fuse. He wondered why I never came home at night, I guess it never occurred to him that what I came home to, was what I feared the most. Picking myself off the floor, I wiped the blood from my forehead.
"When will you learn to obey me!" Another swing of his arm sent me spinning around into the counter top. My chest heaved with ever struggling breath. I could feel the blood pumping by my ears. For seventeen year I had been used as a punching bag. I had watched my mother be beaten to a pulp, now she lay critical in the hospital from what he called a fall down the stairs.
At that moment, it all came back to me. All the memories, the bruises, and the tears he bestowed on me. All my fear, rage, and what little dignity I had left bottled up inside. Grabbing a knife from the counter I swung around and came face to face with my monster of a father.
"You're not going to hurt me!" I screamed. "You're not going to hurt me anymore!" Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I held the knife high above me. His face grew pale as he took as step back. Lunging forward, the knife pierced his tremendous belly. With a bellow, his body toppled to the ground with a thud. My stomach turned at the sight of him. Immediately, my body grew weak and dizziness overwhelmed me. With a deep breath I collapsed to the floor. My body lay fetal and shivering, "You're not going to hurt me anymore." I assured myself, "You're not going to hurt me anymore."