Sins of the Father (Ironic Version)

15/05/2011 § Leave a comment

The soul who sins is the one who will die. The son will not share the guilt of the father, nor will the father share the guilt of the son. – Ezekiel  18:20

My first memory of him was when he came home from the bar, drunk as always.  His breath smelled nasty, reeking of alcohol I would later discover, which I discovered firsthand as he leaned into to me to berate me for not having the dishes done.  Mom came over to shield me from him, standing between me and the mad man who wanted blood.  This only enraged him causing him to bull-snort and charge at her.  She tried to protect me, but she was no match for his devil anger and brutality.

Life didn’t improve for me, and I wish I could forget all those memories burned into my brain.  The time he locked me in his closet for a whole weekend.  The times he punched mom bloody.  She always was his favorite punching bag.  The times he told me how I was his biggest disappointment, how I was a waste of skin, how I was an oxygen thief, how I didn’t deserve the things he provided for me:  a bed, food, clothes.

I wish I could forget the tongue lashings he gave my sister, Meg.  She was an angel in my eyes; to him she was just another thing to be used, enjoyed, like mom.  I always felt more pain for Meg than I ever felt for myself.  She was intimately familiar with his demonic side, having faced every day it since she was ten.  That was why she killed herself the day before her sixteenth birthday.

Of course, her death was my fault.  Or mom’s.  It depended on how dad felt and how much he’d been drinking.

I felt the guilt of Meg’s death, though.  I knew, in my bones, that I should have done more to protect her, to shield her from dad.


As much as I despised my dad, there were days when I hated my mom even more.  Why did she ever agree to marry this beast?  What could she have possibly seen in him?  And why did she never leave him?  She never tried to run away.  Not really.  And when he eventually tracked her down, there was always hell to pay.  There were so many times when I cursed her for bringing me into this world, for being with this monster.


Tonight’s a different night, and I’m a different man.  I’m no longer the scared boy hiding behind his mom.  I’m no longer the child locked in a closet.  I’m no longer intimidated by this monster.

There is evil in this world.  I accept this.  The simple fact of the matter is that there will always be evil in this world and none of us can do a single thing about it.  That’s how it is, was, and always will be.  But there is one evil I can eliminate from this world, and I intend to do my part.  And so I knock on his door.

Fittingly, it’s the night before what would be my sister’s twenty-fifth birthday.  I knock on the door and wait.

He answers it slowly.  He must be older than fifty now, and time favors no man.  He doesn’t recognize me at first.  Probably because he’s drunk.  And probably because he hasn’t seen in nearly eleven years.

He asks me want I want, which is my cue to shove the door open.  He’s by himself; mom finally left him after my sister died.  I haven’t heard from her since.   I hope she’s dead.

He seems surprised by my rudeness, and launches into a spiel about how strangers can’t just barge into people’s homes like this, every other word being slurred.  He’s definitely drunk.  Like always.

I shove him into a spindly kitchen chair and pull duct tape out of my backpack.  I tape him to the chair and, surprisingly, he doesn’t try to even resist.  It would have been futile for him anyway because the stun gun in my hand would have easily incapacitated him if he even thought of resisting.

He hasn’t begun to sober up yet, so I think he believes that he’s simply being robbed.  He’s about to learn that he’s wrong.

I ask him, “Remember me, father?”  I spit that last word at him with all the anger twelve years of bad memories provides.  Recognition dawns on his face.  Good.   Robbery is looking good right now, isn’t dad?  There is fear in his eyes and it only whets my desire for what’s about to come next.

I put duct tape over his mouth, wrapping it around his head several times.  Don’t want the neighbors to hear.  The best is about to happen.  All those years of pain will be avenged.  My sister’s death will be avenged.


The police officer places his hand on my head as he pushes me into the backseat of the squad car.  Why did I not check the rest of the house before I cut into the sadist that made my life a living hell?  How could I have been so stupid?

Of course he would have someone living with him.  But who could be stupid enough to do so?

I arrive at the station, and am taken immediately to booking.  They sit me in an interrogation room until they’re good and ready to question me.  When they enter, I ask for my lawyer.  I refuse to talk until he arrives.


“We find the defendant guilty” and so my fate is sealed.  I must now await sentencing.  I’m going to get life.  I can feel it in my bones.  And so I must die for trying to avenge the sins of my father.


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