Never Again

I don't remember grabbing the knife from the kitchen drawer. I just remember hearing whimpering coming from Kayla's room, and seeing his figure looming over her, his hand creeping under her blankets, and then rage. Hot, trembling, blinding rage. Not her. Not like me.

It happened in mere minutes. I caught a glimpse of Kayla's face, twisted with dread and fear like mine had been so many times before. Then something took over me. I wasn't myself anymore, just bloodlust and adrenaline.

The next thing I saw was my own white-knuckled fist plunging the knife into his back. He screamed. I screamed. Tears clouded my vision as I yanked the knife out and drove it into his shoulder, then the side of his neck, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear his screams.

Then, it was over.

He lay slumped over on Kayla's bed, a crack of light from the open door falling on his still figure and the pool of crimson spreading rapidly beneath him. Kayla cowered in the corner, weeping.

The room began to spin around me and I dropped to my knees. I looked down at my hands in disbelief, unsure whether they were the same hands that had just taken my father's life.

He'd stolen my innocence and stained my childhood, yes, but did I really just kill him? Had I just taken a man's life? What would happen to me? To Kayla?

I felt hot and sick and my hands couldn't stop shaking, but the smallest hint of a smile crept upon my lips despite myself.

He couldn't hurt us anymore. Never again.