1:35 am — 17th of October 2010
A five year old girl curls up into a ball on the floor, right by her door. She rocks herself back and forthright, soothing herself.
Her heart jumps as loud screams echo down the hallway. It was her father and mother yelling over finances.
The little girl, so frightened of what may happen, leans her ear against the door, getting a better hearing.
Her breathing stops as she attempts to listen instead of getting distracted with her deep breathing. A big gulp falls down her throat as everything goes silent.
Small footsteps patter up the stairs. She falls out of her skin, hurriedly standing up and launching herself onto her bed. She whimpers as the creak of the door opens.
Her eyes are clenched shut as she quivers in terror. A gentle tough brushed her hair, "Goodnight Bee."
I was the little girl.
That day changed me. Even the next day at 8:40 am, I woke up, seeing my mothers bruised face. I never understood what I was seeing, but I wasn't blind.
My father is the most worse man I've ever met in my life. I hate him. Now that I've grown, I can see that I should've stood up for my mother instead of listening to the agony and anger they were cursing onto me.
The incident happened repeatedly everyday until my 10th birthday — 25th of December 2015.
The most depressing birthday I've ever had. Even my mother always tried to put on a happy smile for me. I could never love her any less.
The words of the happy birthday song cursed into my ears like a dream. My father was towering above me and my mother, trying to desperately hide his anger that was corsing through his veins.
As I looked at him in his eyes, the blackness of a shadow was all that was there. He had no soul. Nothing. I don't even see him as my father. Nothing to me.
I frown, making a wish by closing my eyes tightly.
My wish was to kill my father so that my mother was safe from his torture.
As I blew out the candles, I felt a huge pressure pushed against my heart. I was only 10.
My next birthday was brutal — 25th of December 2016
My mother hugged me tightly as she sang a beautiful hymn of the birthday song. Father was sat on his rocking chair, watching the TV and carelessly ignoring me during my birthday.
At this point, I couldn't care less about him.
Years fly by until it was my sweet 16 birthday on the 25th of December. Nobody came for my birthday.
My mother had gone missing early November. I felt as though my whole world had shifted. What about all the birthdays without her?!
I was much stronger and confident, I stand up to my sick bastard father.
He burps, rocking on his creaking chair, clicking his knuckles, "Go get me a beer."
With his command, I hesitantly walk towards the kitchen, grabbing two cold beers, I give one to him and open my own.
I roll my eyes as I sit on the wooden table with a cupcake with a small candle in it.
With an exhale, I sing the happy birthday song in dedication for my mother.
I raise my beer in the air, blowing out the candle and making the same wish I had been doing since I was 10 years old.
I finish the beer quickly, throwing it in the trash can, accidentally smashing it all over the floor, catching my fathers attention.
He grunts, jolting from his feet, facing me with his beer clasped in his hands.
I giggle, "My god, that's the fasted you've ever stood up in your life."
His eyes grow angry and his growling gets deeper as he steps towards me, "How dare you?!"
My brows furrows as I stand there in shock. Shit, what do I do?!
"You little shit!" He screams at me before throwing the bottle towards my face, as it hit me the sharp shards cut through my skin, I yell in pain, falling to my knees.
I attempt to crawl away from him, but he kicks my stomach, making me wail in pain. He then grasps my hair, standing me up on my feet, "You weak whore."
My eyes clench shut as I feel the numbness of blood fall down my face. I felt defenseless and weak.
He drops me back to my knees and kicks my back, so that I'm on my front. His hand grasps the back of my neck, turning me over onto my back.
I grunt in pain, trying to fight him off of me.
His grip around my neck tightens, everything becomes surreal and my body tingles and numbness occurs.
Father snickers in my cry out for help. Shit. I've had a fucking 'nough of this. I reach my right hand over across the floor, trying to find a glass shard of the bottle I smashed.
I silently gargle, my face had gone purple, my weak hands aggressively penetrate the sharp corner of the blade into his eye. He yelps, letting go of my neck and screaming over his eye.
I cough, taking a really deep breath. Somehow I manage to stand up and reach into a draw of cuterly, pulling over the machete-like knife that is used to cut meat.
I tower my body above his, cradling my legs above his stomach. Leveling the knife with his throat.
I slice.
And I slice.
Slice.
The sound of his flesh cutting set a relief off of my chest.
I smile in victor, "Do you like that FATHER? DOES THAT FEEL GOOD?!"
I stab his defenseless corpse as it lay still warm with my fathers blood running through it, trying to stay alive.
178 stab wounds.
52 slices to the neck.
Bloody hell. That is what it took to kill this fat prick?
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𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙡 - Five x OC
FanfictionBeatrix Murphy lives in Toronto with her adoring mother and abusive father. She's a unique, beautiful girl, always gaining male attention, even as a young child.. She's always wondered why she was born into such a toxic family. Why her? The whole wo...
