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At the time, I’d just been coming home from a job. It was unplanned by me and unexpected by her. When I entered my home, it was to find a man on top of my sister while she screamed “no” and “please stop.”
I hadn’t thought twice about ripping the man off of her naked body.
Nor had I taken a second to think when I’d taken his head in my hands and killed him by breaking his neck.
It’d only been after I realized that my sister’s screaming was at me, and not at the man that’d been “raping” her, that I understood something had been very, very wrong.
The next few months weren’t even on my radar of expectations.
I’d fully expected my family to stand by my side.
But, like always, my sister had convinced my father that I was the one in the wrong. That I deserved to be punished.
Honestly, I should’ve expected it.
From day one, when my sister was born, my dad had gone out of his way to let everyone who would listen know that his daughter was his heart and pride.
Meanwhile, the moment she was born, it was as if I was thrown back into the pool of uncaring neglect. Either I sank or swam. There were only two options because my father was sure the hell not going to help me in any way, shape or form.
From the time I was eighteen, I knew that I would have to make my own way in life.
He would not be providing for me like he did my sister.
My sister was a certified genius. That was why, when it came time for me to go to college, there was no money left to be had. All of it had already been spent on sending my sister to her prep schools in anticipation of an Ivy League college.
Meanwhile, I’d been wearing the same pair of shoes from the moment I turned sixteen and stopped growing in shoe size.
I should’ve known the day that my sister asked for a house key to my place that it wouldn’t be used for anything good.
But like the dumbass I was, I’d thought my sister still had some semblance of decency in her.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
She’d testified against me in court today.
That was why, when I heard the sentence of nine years and nine months in prison, I wasn’t surprised.
It wasn’t every day that your own sister told the world that you did it on purpose.
It was her sweet, innocent face that sold it.
Meanwhile, I was scarred from the military, years of work and hardened to the point where even I didn’t know if I was good or not.
I looked at my father, the man that I’d always wanted to love me, and realized a few things.
One, the man that was standing in front of me hadn’t been a father to me since long before my prison sentence.
Two, he was a vile excuse for a human being.
Three, I didn’t want his money. I didn’t want his love. I didn’t want anything to do with him.
He’d done just about everything in his power to ensure that whatever love I’d felt for him was extinguished.
So no, him telling me that I was “no longer his son” didn’t affect me like he’d hoped.
In fact, it’d just cemented the fact that I wouldn’t waste the effort to try and contact him again. My soul was now guilt-free.
If I wasn’t his son, that meant that I didn’t have to take care of him.
