Wildfire

(05)

Mariana Montanari

I had Eight men in my life I wanted to kill. Today was man one. My beloved father.

I drove myself back to that place. That wretched house which ruined my life. The three hour drive seemed too short.

Breathe Mariana. You weren't her. You weren't Mary. You were not his daughter. You were not her.

I was not her. I was his death. His fucking karma. The redemption he didn't deserve.

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I walked to the door. We could still go back. Still had time. Let's turn around and never come back. No.

I shook off my inner thought and shot the lock open. No response.
I didn't bother turning the silence on. What was he gonna do? Wake up from his beauty slumber?

This place hadn't changed much, not even new furniture. There he was on the couch with a girl half his age.

"Ahem-" Their faces turned white on being aware that someone else was in the room.

"Who are you?" He looked at me for a second before recognition hit... I didn't blame him. It had been 12 years since either one of us had seen each other. "Why are you back? Didn't I tell you you're too used up now Mary."

My blood boiled at hearing the name. "Quiet." My bullet echoed in the room and rested in his shoulder, finally shutting him up.

"Facciamo un piccolo gioco, Dad." I gritted out at him. "Unlock the basement."
(Let's play a little game)

He didn't argue thanks to the pistol I held.

"Basement dad. Unlock it" I inhaled as his slow moments unlocked the door before I signaled him to go down stairs.

"You think you have so much power just because you have a gun now, Mary?" His fake bravado was paper thin and honestly, really annoying.

I stepped in after him trying not to look at the mirrors all around me. "I don't need a gun. Just a belt." I said tucking the gun back into my waistband.

His eyes widened and for a second I was almost content. But not yet.

I picked the belt on the floor wrapping it around my knuckles and struck. The sound made all the memories come rushing back. I let that reflect in each strike.

"Mary put it back. Look in the mirror. You're being such a bad daughter right now."

The audacity. "I was a bad daughter? YOU. You were a horrible father. And a worse husband. What makes you think I owe you anything? News flash: I don't. And I didn't. I never did." I whisper the last part more to myself than him. "It was your fault that your wife left you. And you destroyed MY LIFE for it? 'Get out, Mary, you're too used up now!?' Why was a 13 year old 'used up', dad?" I didn't realize when my controlled voice turned into a screaming sob. Probably when I repeated his words to him.

His screams overtook a major part of my words. As always my words had no effect on him. Just like my pleads. I struck repeatedly with a belt till my arms refused to repeat the motion. I could hear the blood drip down the belt and pool at my feet. The same blood that ran through my veins.

With the blood soaked belt I choked him till there was barely any life left in him. My anger was blinding but the peace his screams brought made it worth it. I killed him.

My mind thought about the girl who only ever wanted to be a good enough daughter. She had her father's blood on her hands now. My throat restricted as my knees refused to hold me up for longer. I screamed. I screamed for the girl who wanted to cry out for mercy but couldn't.

It took me long enough to finally hang him with the same belt. The blood flowed like a waterfall. His blood was now not only in my veins but also on my hands. I liked the second one better.

"Let's play a game, dad." I said, my voice barely there from the screaming. I drenched him in gasoline, waiting if he'd say anything but he didn't. Fear crept into his eyes as I flicked my lighter before dropping it to a corner. He'll watch the fire make its way to him and when it finally does He'll think about me.

His screams finally brought a smile to my face. He looked like the demon he was.

I hoped the woman he was fucking was gone or I'll have to do the same old shit again. Find, kidnap, kill. I was sort of a mantra now or a daily routine.

I stood there watching the flames. I had tuned out the screams a long time ago. Not too long later when there were just ashes my mind went to the reminiscent of how my life was once perfect. Doll houses and Disney land trips. I had it all.

+=={:::::::::::::::::>

Until I turned 7 and my mom ran away. It hit my dad hard, maybe harder than it should've. I spent the year trying not to piss him off too much cause I wanted him to know that I was a good daughter and that I was gonna make the loss of his wife as easy as possible for him.

On my Eighth birthday I got kicked out of school in front of everyone because my tuition was not being paid. I hesitantly told him that and he, in the most loving voice imaginable, said "Mary, I have plans for you and they're better than school." That day we went home. And I regret every bit of it.

He pushed me in the basement and I went without hesitation. He was my dad, he wasn't gonna hurt me, right? The basement just had one light but it was covered in mirrors which made it light up more than just one lightbulb was capable of.

I loved mirrors. They used to make me insanely happy. I used to pretend they were a portal. Now I wish they were.

"Why are we here dad and when did you buy so many mirrors?" My voice was too high pitched from the excitement. "They're so beautiful-" before I could finish the sentence I was turned and slammed against the mirror I was adoring a few minutes ago.

"Dad! it hurts!" I tried to squirm out of his grip but his grip got tighter, "Ragazzina, vuoi essere utile, vero?" I tried to calm down "S-si." (Little girl, you want to be useful, right?/y-yes)

That's all I had to say before my clothes were ripped and he pushed himself on me. "Dad, please! It hurts. It hurts so much. pl-ease- plea-"

"Shh Mary. Stay still. It's your fault my wife ran away, the least you could do is be useful." His hand came down to my face causing a sharp sting and the mirror behind me cracked. "D-dad! It broke- The mirror! Stop- Please!"

Panic took over me. I couldn't breathe. Black dots stained my vision and I just felt. Hands. Words. Anger. Everything else he took out on me as the mirror went deeper and deeper in my body.

+=={:::::::::::::::::>

That night I stayed in the mirror covered basement. And every other night after that for the next 5 years.

The smell of beer started being the only memory I remember. I started hallucinating figures by constantly staring into the mirror.

But generously he kept giving me new scars to stare at. Mirrors made sure I saw what happened when I was a bad daughter.

I wanted to be a good daughter but I couldn't. I tried so fucking hard. So I had to become much worse.

I took a deep breath before shooting all the mirrors in the room. I did it. I burnt my father alive. I sent him where he belonged. To hell.

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