Fatal attraction

Chapter 12: Flashback The First Kill

Maya was sixteen when it happened. The memory played out in her mind like a dark, twisted movie she couldn't turn off. The night was thick with rain and thunder, each crack of lightning casting eerie shadows on the walls of the small, oppressive house she called home.

Her father was drunk again, his angry shouts and the sound of smashing bottles echoing through the house. Maya huddled in her room, the door locked, but she knew it wouldn't keep him out. The acrid stench of alcohol and sweat permeated the air, mixing with the suffocating fear that gripped her heart.

She could hear him stumbling down the hallway, his heavy footsteps getting closer. Her mother, a silent ghost in the house, was nowhere to be found, leaving Maya to face him alone. She had endured his abuse for years, but tonight something in her snapped. The fear turned into a cold, hard resolve.

She reached under her bed, fingers closing around the handle of a kitchen knife she had hidden there weeks ago. The metal felt cold and heavy in her hand, a stark contrast to the fiery determination in her heart. She crept out of her room, her breath shallow, her pulse racing.

In the dim light of the living room, she saw him slumped on the couch, muttering to himself. The TV flickered, casting distorted shadows on his face. He looked like a demon, his eyes bloodshot and wild. Maya took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"Maya, you little bitch! What the hell do you want?" he slurred, noticing her standing there.

She didn't respond. She just moved, a silent predator. The knife plunged into his side, the blade slicing through flesh and muscle. He roared in pain, his hands flailing as he tried to grab her. His strength was terrifying, but she was quicker, driven by a lifetime of suppressed rage.

He threw her against the wall, her body slamming into the plaster with a sickening thud. All air pushed out of her lunga. Pain radiated through her, but she didn't let go of the knife. She scrambled to her feet, eyes locked on him as he came at her again. This time, she was ready. She sidestepped his swing and drove the knife into his stomach. The sound he made was a grotesque gurgle, blood bubbling from his mouth.

He staggered back, eyes wide with shock and fear. She saw the realisation dawning in his eyes, the understanding that he was no longer in control. She twisted the knife, feeling it grate against the bone. His scream was a primal, raw sound that echoed through the house.

Maya's world narrowed to the rhythmic thrusts of the knife, each one a release of the years of pain and fear he had inflicted on her. Blood sprayed, warm and sticky, covering her hands, her clothes, and the floor. She didn't stop until he lay still, his eyes open but lifeless, staring at nothing.

She stepped back, the knife slipping from her fingers, clattering to the floor. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her entire body shaking. The reality of what she had done began to sink in. She had killed him. The monster was dead.

She heard her mother's footsteps above, slow and deliberate. There was no time to lose. She touched her face not realising she still had blood on her hands when she looked into the mirror and saw that his blood was on her face as well as on her hands she had to suppress the urge to scream out from pure terror. She knew she had to clean up quickly as her mum could come down from the attic any moment.. As she tiptoed out of the backdoor through the yard, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She had taken control and fought back against the nightmare. But deep down, she knew this was just the beginning.