REVENGE
He had always been a good man. He did not deserve what was happening to him. Fate had tested him far more than it did other men, but he never erred and always did what was right. When his wife was diagnosed with that horrible disease and faced the prospect of living without a womb, the heavy task of ushering her life peacefully toward its close befell him. Like any good father, he allowed his children to say goodbye to their mother first, and he made sure to use a clear plastic bag to carry out the deed so they could watch as her suffering ended.
It had all been planned so carefully, and he would have been able to carry it out so beautifully, if only she had not fought back so fiercely. The poor thing did not know any better, being a member of the weaker sex, but it had been cruel of her to turn the children against him. They tested him to his limits, yet he stood firm against their defiance, never once sparing the rod when they strayed from the path to righteousness. He saw to it that they grew up to be good people, and it was because of his wisdom and guidance that they were able to have everything they did. So why was it they were doing what they were to him?
In the hospital, they had solemnly promised that they would care for him. However, now that they had brought him home, they just left him in his room to starve and wallow in his own filth as bedsores ate away at his flesh. The stroke had rendered him unable to speak, so he called out to them in the only way he could, as loudly as he could, yet they never answered. With what little strength he had left, he continued to call for them till he was all but ready to give up.
Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching his bedroom and his heart swelled with anticipation. When the door creaked open, his children came in. He raised his head and mouthed the word “food” to them, but neither his son nor daughter displayed any hint of emotion as they approached either side of his bed and gazed down upon him. They studied him for a moment before turning to regard each other.
“What did he just try to say? ‘Food’?”
“No, he doesn’t need food. He needs warmth.”
He was just about to shake his head in protest when the crushing force of a body fell on his chest and the pillow was pulled out from underneath his head and pressed it down on his mouth and nose with shocking brutality. Panic set in. He twisted and turned feebly in a futile effort to free himself, to at least get the chance to scream for help, but his children left him with no such opportunity. Within minutes, he was dead.
It had all been planned so carefully, and he would have been able to carry it out so beautifully, if only she had not fought back so fiercely. The poor thing did not know any better, being a member of the weaker sex, but it had been cruel of her to turn the children against him. They tested him to his limits, yet he stood firm against their defiance, never once sparing the rod when they strayed from the path to righteousness. He saw to it that they grew up to be good people, and it was because of his wisdom and guidance that they were able to have everything they did. So why was it they were doing what they were to him?
In the hospital, they had solemnly promised that they would care for him. However, now that they had brought him home, they just left him in his room to starve and wallow in his own filth as bedsores ate away at his flesh. The stroke had rendered him unable to speak, so he called out to them in the only way he could, as loudly as he could, yet they never answered. With what little strength he had left, he continued to call for them till he was all but ready to give up.
Finally, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching his bedroom and his heart swelled with anticipation. When the door creaked open, his children came in. He raised his head and mouthed the word “food” to them, but neither his son nor daughter displayed any hint of emotion as they approached either side of his bed and gazed down upon him. They studied him for a moment before turning to regard each other.
“What did he just try to say? ‘Food’?”
“No, he doesn’t need food. He needs warmth.”
He was just about to shake his head in protest when the crushing force of a body fell on his chest and the pillow was pulled out from underneath his head and pressed it down on his mouth and nose with shocking brutality. Panic set in. He twisted and turned feebly in a futile effort to free himself, to at least get the chance to scream for help, but his children left him with no such opportunity. Within minutes, he was dead.
