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As a child, i used to see my mother savagely beaten and abused by my drunken father. I'd come home, aged 14 from committiing petty crimes, to help my mother with money, to see her laying on the floor; beaten like a dog and sobbing. My father was in the mob and he truly thought he was someone special. He was a nasty piece of work, on one occasion he threatened me with a knife after i pulled him off of my mother. He held the cold steel against my throat and mumbled incoherently. I felt no fear, no respect, nothing for this man. He used my mum as a doormat and i'd had enough. I decided it was time to take a stand. I rounded up a group of my closest friends, there was 7 of us all together. all aged 14-15, my friends were always there for me and they'd seen the beatings my mother took. One night while my father slept in his drunken stupor, i stole his gun. It was a lovely piece, 1911 military issue colt .45 with a customised grip. The cold rubber grip not only felt reassuring in my hand, it felt strangely natural. I knew what i had to do. The next morning i awoke my mum at 6:30. I woke her quietly and told her she was moving to my friends house for a couple of days, mostly for her own safety, but i didn't want her to see what my father had made me. My friend Tommy, got his father to pick her up. He was a great man, a man of true honour and old fashioned values. When my mother had left we took up our postions in alleyways near an abandoned warehouse. My father walked this way everyday, it was a five minute walk to his family compound. He'd never make it there. I heard his familiar whistle as he walked down the street with his cocky, arrogant swagger. two of my friends, Tommy and Floyd stepped out of an alleyway 10 yards behind him. Tommy carried a penknife, and quickly closed in on my father, as he pressed the sharp point of the knife into my fathers suit jacket he froze. I stepped out of the alleyway, gun raised before my father had a chance to turn around. He eyes were wide with shock, and i'd like to think fear.
"Hello dad, fancy seeing you here. you're going to come with us and you're going to come quietly. Hands where i can see them and move slowly into the alleyway. Don't try anything funny, i've got guys in there with knives, bottles and bats."
As my father turned away from me and walked slowly into the alleyway, i allowed a smug grin to spread across my face. It was rivalled by that of Tommy, Who stepped into the alleyway before me, knife still held aloft. As Tommy pushed my father into the warehouse, he spoke.
"What's all this about son? You don't want to kill me. Quit your childish joke."
"This is no joke dad, ever since i was five. i've watched you beat mum. You've threatened me with a knife. I took up the responsibility of putting food on the table and helping us live by robbing post offices, mugging people and selling marijuana Dad. So you're wrong. I do want to kill you. but first, you're going to suffer. Just like Mum has for the past 9 years. But you're going to get it all in one go. Floyd, bring the nails will you?"
I took two 6 inch nails from Floyd, i held them up for my father to see before driving them hard into his legs. I ripped the wire from the light switch off the wall and wrapped the metal around the two nails using them as contacts. My father, crying now looked up at me. total despair flooded his eyes. Pain strode across his face. He yelped as i turned on the light switch, giving him a massive electrical shock. I ripped the nails from my fathers leg and threw them to the floor.
"Get up dad. Get Up!"
As he dragged himself to his feet, i knocked him back down with the butt of my new gun. I gestured to my companions as i turned my back and left the room. After an hour of heavy screaming from my father, i re-entered the room to see my father. Bloody faced and on his knees, head pressed to the floor. He looked up, pure terror on his face.
"Please... Rory, please don't do this. Please have mercy on me. I'm sorry, i have seen the error of my ways. I'll change. Just please have mercy."
"Father, I feel nothing for you. No remorse for my actions here today. But as the kind person i am. I will grant you mercy. Stand before me."
My father stood up groggily. He held out his arms as if to hug me. As he stepped forward, i drew my gun from my waist band and shot him through the head. I placed my gun back into my waistband and checked for a pulse. He was stone cold dead. My friends and I left the building silently. I felt no remorse, no fear no emotion. Tommy's father was waiting two streets away. He was the only one who knew what we had done. Me and Tommy said our goodbyes before climbing into the back of Ted's Ford model T. We drove back to Tommy's silently. The memory of pulling the trigger rushing through my head, over and over. I felt fantastic. I'd done what my mother needed of me. However exlaining to her i'd murdered my father might prove slightly tricky. Never the less, i had. |
