TWO DEATHS IN ONE DAY.

The creaking sound woke me up. Sleep-clouded eyes vaguely spotted the figure hooded in the darkness. I tasted fear.

I never got the chance to scream. My mouth was assaulted first. My legs came next. The scales of sleep completely fell off then, but it was too late.

The fight was rigged from start. He was stronger.

My flimsy excuse of a nightwear got out of the way and I laid there, hopeless, helpless, while he had his way.
Minutes felt like hours, my eyes turned water falls.

The deed was done.

I found my strength after. Wild rage flamed in my depths and I grabbed on to the first thing I could find. He never made it to the door.

Winter came with the lights. My blood, turned ice as those familiar wide hollow eyes, stared back at me- blood ridden, skull bashed in.

A minute silence was held for two deaths. His and mine. For that night, something died inside of me forever.

Two years, I still haven’t recovered from shock, haven’t spoken a word.

It’s just as well, for I could never tell the world… even mama doesn’t know that it was I who killed papa.

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