Lilith Lexington

Swallowing the dread crawling through my throat, words caught on my tongue as I’m unable to speak. All I can do is watch the horror unfold, my worst nightmare becoming a reality.

My father is seated on my bed, with my only source of escape next to him. The opened duffle bag lays at his feet, the contents of clothing and documents scattered all over the floor. I hid that bag in the floorboard, beneath the faulty one under my bed.

How did he find it? I know he checks my room often for money but never to this extent.

My world has collapsed in a matter of seconds, this morning I was happy that my escape was a week away and now everything is broken. I’m frozen with fear that it tastes vile on my tongue, my heart pounding so hard that I’m quite convinced it will burst from my chest and apart of me wants it to – just to end this misery.

The silence is dampened by the intense thumping growing louder with each second, I’m rooted in my spot, unable to move a muscle as I gauche his reaction. His body is hunched forward, cigarette hung loosely between his lips as the ashes fall onto the ground. He counts the stack of cash I’ve stolen from him and earned myself. One thing I couldn’t afford was to create an account, that would have given him a hint to my plan. He would have found out through the deposits, that was the downside of having a cop as your father – he has the power to know everything.

According to Emory, my last resort was to hide the money and hide it fucking well – clearly, I failed. It worked for the past year, and something must have ticked him off to search my room this in-depth. All the money I had saved for my escape from this evil has burned to ashes. Three grand now in his possession.

“Lilith,” his scratchy voice calls, making me dig my nails into my palm to stop shaking violently.

Unlike before, I know this wont end well. The beatings from the past weren’t motivated by anything but satisfying his male ego and taking out his anger onto me. This time – I warranted a beating; I was going to run away and now I’m dreading the consequences.

“Where did you get all this money?” He questions, his tone calculating.

My throat constricts as I force myself to answer, “Tutoring at school.” It wasn’t completely true however half of the money did come from tutoring gigs.

He nods slowly, “And why did you hide it from me?”

A wave of terror rackets my bones, the low menacing tone only leads to rage. I’m not doing myself any favours by keeping quiet, but what else can I say when the evidence is quite literally on the fucking floor.

I was going to run. There was no way around it.

Everything plays out in slow motion, the way he rises from the bed and pockets the money. He takes a large pull of the nicotine, the amber glowing within the darkness as he exhales a cloud of smoke above him.

A sign escapes his lips, fingers soothing the tension in his brows.

“You were trying to run away huh, and with my money.” He laughs terrifyingly, taking slow strides towards me and I’m holding myself back from throwing up.

His gigantic palm grabs a hold of my bicep, he squeezes, and it hurts so fucking much that a cry escapes my lips. “You stole my money, you little bitch.” he grits, ashing out the cigarette on my arm and I feel the burn demolish me, screams attempting to leave my mouth – only for him to backhand me.

My vision blurs, the pounding in my head initiating. I can hear his laughter, it’s the one that haunts me in my dreams, like the devil is coming to punish you type of sound. “What an ungrateful piece-of-shit you are,” the smile thinning as he towers over me and crushes my bicep, “I put clothes on your back, a roof over your head and food on the table yet you have the audacity to steal from me!”

The fist cracks against my cheek, causing me to see black dots and the ringing to initiate in my ears. Fire annihilating my cheek as he smashes another, making my knees crumble to the ground. “YOU WERE GOING TO RUN WITH MY FUCKING MONEY!” He roars, throwing another fist at my face.

He is relentless, I should be used to his suffering, but one can never get used to the pain. This was beyond torture; this was intent to kill. I’m unable to comprehend anything as my head start to pound painfully, taking multiple punches that black dots taint my vision. He is yelling, yet all I can hear is a distorted ringing sound.

My father kicks me in the ribs, making the air whoosh out of my lungs as I hit the bed. I can’t breathe, gasping for air but it hurts, my lungs hurt, everything fucking hurts.

“I always took it easy on you but not anymore.” The cold voice announces, even through distorted comprehension I knew what that meant.

The metallic taste of blood filling my mouth as I attempt to breathe, coughing as he kicks the shit out of me. I can’t breathe, unable to cope with this pain descending upon me. He is beyond angry; he is borderline insane.

I’m suffocating on the blood, the lack of oxygen. I feel exhausted and nauseated, every kick making me want to vomit. The fists and kicks are punishing, he is out for fucking vengeance. My lungs burn, bile ready to release as fire demolishes me from the inside.

“Stop…please….I’m sorry.” I beg through tears and sore throat.

“I’m going to kill you, you fucking bitch. I should have killed you; you are just like your fucking mother.” His menacing voice booms, playing on an endless loop.

“You think you can fucking steal from me,”

Heat and pain tear through my insides as I heave, attempting to breathe but it only causes the stabbing pain to shoot from my stomach. The torturous pain disperses throughout my body, every muscle aching and destroying me from the inside.

My father is a monster, “I’m going to put a bullet between your eyes, you should be grateful that I’m giving you an easy way out.”

His boot crushes my right hand, the bones breaking as I scream through my tears. He chuckles darkly, enjoying my misery. I know by the direction he is heading, that he will indeed kill me tonight. The alarms are throbbing in my head, vision turning black as I try to fight of the darkness beckoning me.

I gasp, blood escaping my mouth as every muscle begs me to stop moving and let this agony end once and for all. There is no energy left in my body, I can’t feel anything but pain and fire. I can barely move without the pain overwhelming me.

But I can’t just lay here and let him kill me. My life shouldn’t have been this hellish nightmare, all that work just to simply die before I finally live.

No.

I wasn’t going to die. I wasn’t going to let him steal away my future like he did my childhood.

Reaching my left hand into the empty floorboard under my bed, every muscle screaming for me to stop but I don’t. I push through the haze, through the pain and knock the left side of the panel. It falls easily, luckily because I didn’t have the energy to force another punch.

My fingers grab a hold of the handgun, the one Emory stole and gave to me incase I was in a life-or-death situation.

This is that moment.

Life or death.

Ignoring the sharp shooting pain initiating from my arm as I draw the gun back, until I hear his voice and the cock of his gun. Immediately my arm moves forward, in lightening speed that my heart is racing. He stares at me, laughing in my face as I aim the gun at him.

“Do you even know how to use that?” he laughs, waving his gun around without a hint of fear.

My vision is blurring, his figure distorting with the darkness but I fight through every ounce of pain. What he doesn’t know is that the safety was always off, due to this exact moment where he would be faster.

“Yes.” I answer, pulling the trigger and the retraction shakes my entire body.

The bullet pierces his chest, and I don’t stop. Emptying all the bullets into his fucking body and watching the monster drop to his knees, lifeless orbs and hit the fucking ground with a thud. The ringing intensifies, accompanied with white noise as the heavy gun slips through my fingers.

My heart beating erratically, all the pain consuming me to the point that I want to pass out. Pulling out my phone from my jeans, I can’t see anything as the bright light hurts my eyes even more. Dialling one, knowing the only person that can help me is her.

“Emory, I need your help…..I killed him.”