Sunday, February 26, 2012
This week's writing prompt was about conflict and violence. This quote was our guide:
"It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence." -Mahatma Gandi
"I warned you that I would kill you if you touched Emily or Matthew again!" I yelled menacingly at the poor excuse of a man, aka my brother-in-law.
I had caught him by surprise. He was sitting in the garage, drinking a beer and watching a football game on the t.v. After yet another "fall down the stairs" suffered by my sister Emily, I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. And so, I drove to their house. My sister and my nephew safely tucked away at a relative's house.
Enough was enough!
"What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my house before I call the police!" yelled the coward. He stood up and started walking towards me.
"You think I'm afraid of you? I'm not my sister, your asshole!"
He was now, thisclose to me. I could see the beads of sweat forming on his face. The smell of beer permeated my senses.
"You're going to regret this you stupid bitch!" He shoved me so hard I fell against the pool table.
Not again. He had caused enough damage. He needed to be stopped.
He laughed at me and turned to walk away.
I reached into my jeans pocket and took out a pocket knife. My father used it to gut fish. I would use it to gut a pig.
"This is for Emily and Matthew!" I yelled at him as I stabbed the back of his neck. He jolted forward and the turned to face me. His face was now flushed red with anger.
"I'm bleeding!" This seemed to incense him. He lunged at me. But I was ready for him. As he pushed me to the ground and tried to hit me, I fought him off with one hand while stabbing him in the face, shoulders, chest, anywhere I could stab him, with my my other arm.
"I hate you! I hate you so much!" I screamed at him.
Suddenly, I was fueled by a force I didn't recognize. I kept thinking of all the times my sister would show up at my house, bleeding and bruised, crying in despair. I thought of my five year old nephew, and his state of mind and how he could grow up to be just like his monster of a father. I thought of all those times she left, only to be lured back.
"Now they'll never hurt again!" I said to his listless body.