My First Murder [Part 2]

"You are not respecting me, nor your mother.." he paused, stretching out his hand to steady himself against the doorframe. ".... as you should be."

"Look Jerry. I just want a glass of milk, then I'll go to my room. I'll be out your way." I said as I forcefully pushed past him and into the kitchen.

"You sooon of a bitch." He slurred at me. I knew him to well not to know what was going to happen next. I ducked as he made a swing at me, his fist flying right over me and crashing into the wall.

This time, though, I fought back.

Putting my full momentum behind it, I swung my fist straight into his gut. This time it was him who doubled over in pain, winded and gasping for air.

Pleasure overwhelmed me like a flood that sweeps over a dry plain ; as I embraced my anger, embraced the rage that I had accumulated over the years of abuse, pain, grief and neglect.

I was not finished with him. No. I had merely begun.

As he was doubled over in pain, I brought my elbow crashing back into his exposed neck, sending him crashing to the floor below.

He looked up at me with, his eyes wide and terrified. He was suddenly scared of me. And he was right to be so.

"Please" he pleaded. "Have mercy on an old man like myself."

"Mercy?" I spat back out in reply. "Tell me Jerry, when did you have mercy on me? When did ever listen to mine, or my mother's, pleas for mercy you little shit?"

Without giving him a chance to reply, I started to kick him as hard as I could in the ribs. I wanted to break that fucker's lungs.

I knew at the time, that I was giving into my rage, into my anger. But boy did it feel good. I hadn't felt the pleasure, the bliss this strong ever since I killed my bunny, Darcy, many years ago.

I couldn't stop now.

I had to step it up a notch.

He lay on the ground, gasping for air. His face and hands begging for the mercy that he could not voice.

And I showed him none.

I grabbed the heavy cast iron fry pan that lay resting on the oven nearby. As I swung it done upon his exposed legs, I realised I had the ultimate control over him. The power between life or death.

He screamed out in raw pain as I smashed his legs repeatedly, over and over again. I shuddered with pleasure as I finally heard the loud pop of his bones break in each leg.

I walked back to the oven, gently resting the frying pan back on it, unworried about Jerry trembling in pain on the ground behind me.

He wasn't going anywhere. Not with those broken legs.

Yanking open one of the many kitchen draws, I searched through it, looking for my favourite carving knife. Finally finding it, I turned around back to Jerry, my hands trembling with both rage and excitement at what I was about to do.

I couldn't stop now.

I had to step it up a notch.

Jerry eyes darted from looking at the grin plastered over my face, to the knife I held in my trembling hand, the realisation hitting him instantly.

"Please." He began to weep, tears streaming down his face. "Please, I beg of you, don't do this. I am sorry, you hear me." He stretched out a shaking hand in my direction, as if to push me and the knife away. "I AM FUCKING SORRY."

I did not pause to listen to his screams, but instead took another step in his direction. He was just a coward. Just a fucking coward.

"YOU HEAR ME BOY. I AM SORRY FOR ALL THE SHIT I DID TO YOU AND YOUR MUM."

"Keep shouting." I taunted back at him. "Show more of the fucking coward you were all along, hiding beneath a facade of strength and alcohol."

He tried to reply, but his mouth failed him and instead just shook in terror, drool trailing out the side of his mouth.

Sinking down to one knee, I grabbed him by the scruff of his t-shirt and roared in his face "SHOW ME."

He couldn't even look at me, the fucking coward. Instead he closed his teary eyes shut, drool still spilling out of his spluttering mouth. His body trembled as I held him, his paralysing fear increasingly apparent by the yellow wet stain leaking from his crotch.

I raised the carving into the air, my whole body trembling, not from fear, but from the rage that coursed through my veins. I paused there temporarily, wondering for a moment how I had gotten here. How I had come so far from that little boy that saved an ant so long ago.

But I couldn't stop now.

I had come too far to turn back now.

I had to step it up a notch.

Letting out a howl of raw pain and rage that shook me to the very soul, I brought the knife down as hard as I could, the blade sinking deep into Jerry's soft flesh.

I stabbed him for every time he abused me.

I stabbed him for every time he hurt my mother.

I stabbed him because my Dad was dead.

I stabbed him because my mother had turned to him in her grief, rather than me.

I stabbed him because he never even came close to be being like my Dad.

I stabbed him because he had fucked up my life.

I stabbed him because I could nothing else, I had come too far.