My father, my biological father anyway, wasn’t an only child. The image that comes up is one that kindles the fire that burned so fiercely long ago. My sister and I had survived being left, we’d survived a man that used her as a…

Excuse me.

We’d survived, that’s all anyone needs to know. But my father’s brothers had never accepted that we were taken from their family. That might have been touching had they been any better than the old man. But our uncles had taken turns with my sister, thanks to my piece of shit father. That’s not something anyone wants to hear, is it? Well, tough shit, I had to live through it, my sister had to endure it, and the only reason I never did was that none of them wanted to bugger a boy, no matter how horny they were. But they came after my sister again, and this time I wasn’t able to do anything. Well, I wasn’t able to do anything to save her, at least.

I blamed myself for this for years to come. My sister was a young woman when our uncles found us, and Thom and Marie weren’t enough to fend them off. I see the three big men standing in front of me, one of them thrusting his hips as I can hear my sister crying in response. The difference between this time, and the first time, is that I don’t have a baseball bat. My point of view is shaking, and I remember that moment, and I know why. I was ready and willing to kill again, but I didn’t want to. My father was an accident, believe it or not. My uncles were intended kills, since they were just like their brother, my old man.


The shotgun in my young hands bucks, and two of my uncles explode in a red mist. The other uncle is quicker than I anticipate, and he threatens to cut my sister’s throat with a knife. It turns out that this is the same knife that he cut Thom and Marie’s throats with as well, as the blood on his hands at that time was revealed to be theirs in court, during my trial. He stabbed my sister twice in the throat before I was able to fire again. You can imagine what happened, since I hit my sister as well. But she was already dying, I’ve tried to tell myself.

She was already dying, I still think as the vision changes. Good God, is there any vision that could lift me up after this?

It turns out, there is.

(to be continued)

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