Father by name only.

Always drinking, then came the rage.

It was always the same.

He came home from work at the end of the day.

Always in a foul mood.

We learned quickly to stay away.

We knew exactly what he would do.

Remembering the way he would beat us tell we were black and blue.

Then they would begin to fight.

He would yell and swing his beer around.

It would splash and spill  on the ground.

The stale smell lingering in the air.

Then he would insult and hit our mother.

Pulling her away by her hair.

My sister and I would hide staring out of a crack in the closet.

Frighten that he would remember we were there.

This night their fight was unusually brutal.

He strangled my mother with complete rage.

She tried to push him away.

She struggled and silently cried.

Her eyes searched us out, from the small crack as the last bit of her life faded.

We hid there sobbing staring at our dead mother.

I hated him so much at that moment.

Pain we could barely bare, hugging my sister, I placed my hand over her eyes.

He sat in his ratty old chair, drinking, watching tv, like he didn't care.

I would never forget her mournful cries.

After many tries I finally quieted her down.

Desperate that we wouldn't be found.

Finally he fell asleep in his chair.

I couldn't bare it another moment.

I only felt rage.

I no longer cared.

I slipped into the kitchen quiet as a mouse.

Not one single sound in the house.

I grabbed the largest knife.

And I tip toed over to him.

And I stabbed him time after time.

From chin to waist.

My heart racing with fear.

I could see his eyes open wide in surprise.

Only thinking one thought, tonight he dies
.
I backed away the blooded knife still in my hand.

Ran back to my sister.

We crawled into bed laid there and cried.

Tonight both parents had died.

I tried desperately to tell my sister it would be ok.

The knife still held tightly in my hand.

I dimmed the light and laid there terribly, frightened.

I heard a odd sound coming from across the room.

I walked silently to the mirror that scratching sound came from within.

As I stood staring at the mirror.

I saw my fathers reflection there.

One hand grabbing my shoulder and other reaching for the knife.

I stood shaking never having been that scared in my life.

My father died that day, but his spirit stayed.

The crooked words scratched out in the glass, you will pay.

I awoke my sister so we could run away.

Grabbing her hand we started to run to the door.

My mothers dead body lifeless on the floor.

The windows begin to shake, and the room had a feeling of darkness looming.

I frantically tried to open the door.

I glanced around and saw the spirit of my father standing near by.

My sister begin to cry.

I backed away and he declared "you to will forever stay."

The house shot up in flames.

We ran from room to room.

Soon the smoke was so thick we choked.

The flames singeing my skin.

My fathers laughter echoing from within.

The air thick with blacken smoke that burned my throat and skin.

The roof begin to collapse and fall in.

I called to my sister to run.

But it was to late she lay on the floor not making a sound.

Gasping for air soot covering my skin and hair I laid there.

Staring as my last breath faded away.

The house burned to the ground.

All four bodies found.

Still to this day people say.

Their spirits haunt the land.

The day that a family of four were tragically no more.

But the evil shall forever stay.

His last words to his children,"you will pay."

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