Senseless | Jerome Valeska

VII. Addiction to Transfixion

I briskly walked out from my room, to the kitchen where I previously heard my father. I felt a bit of dew on my forehead as I began to panic.  What if he opened the box, I didn't even know what was in there. I let a heavy breath out when I found his head buried in the fridge, and my purple/green present sat on the table where I had left it.
"What's wrong?" I asked. He grunted as he resurfaced from the fridge to face me.
"The hell is this?" He asked again, pulling out an old burger I had shoved to the back of  the fridge from when me and Jerome went into the city.
"Well, it's a burger" I said in a mellow tone. He gave me an annoyed look and sloppily tossed the styrofoam box on the counter. He then turned to face me.
"D'you go out an' get it?"he asked as he shut the fridge.
"Obviously," I responded. He raised his eye brows at my sudden ample confidence and diminishing respectful tone.
"Obviously?" He demanded rhetorically, and all at once my previously acquired boldness was sucked up. My stature became smaller as he approached me. "Think you can talk to me like that, I'm yer' father." He growled. I cowered as he spoke, as if his height and build wasn't intimidating enough his voice seemed to make the ground quake beneath me.
"Listen, pa-" I bargained, lifting my hands in defense. As he came nearer, I matched each of his steps oppositely- backing up down the hall. "I didn't mean, really I- uff!" A swift backhand sent me straight to the ground. I let out something of a wail as the reality of the sting set in, pressing my palm tightly to my cheek did nothing to reduce the throbbing ache. Along with the sting, the smack also instigated tears- which were now flowing freely.

I had begun to prop myself up on my palms when I met the floor again. A kick to the shoulder blade quickly put me back on the ground. This time however the impact was far worse. It induced a cloudy head, ringing ears, and blurry vision- along with other symptoms.
"Dad," I pleaded as I attempted to stand. My knees were weak, and I clung to the closest wall for support. When I reached my usual height without interference I attempted to negotiate once more; though I didn't expect to get very far, due to his wounded pride and me threatening his authority. "Please sto-" before I could even finish my simple appeal, he had knotted his fists in my shirt. Weakly I tried to push at his chest, but his grip was solid.

I felt dizzy, and exhausted, and I wanted to stop crying, but most of all I wanted this to be over- to live my life without being afraid. I needed to feel the weight lift off my shoulder as soon as I put a bullet in my father's skull. My eyes widened at my sudden realization: a gun! That's what was in Jerome's present. He wanted me to wait till we were out of range of the circus so no one would hear.
"Yahtzee." I grumbled inaudibly to myself. My father's grip was still like a vise, and at the moment I could only think of one way out. Throwing my leg forward, I gave him a swift kick to the jewels. He, in turn,  threw me to the floor in pain. As he sat hunched over, I used this opportunity to quickly go for the gift.

It was as if time had slowed. I ripped frantically at the paper and pulled at the ribbon, but my jittery hands did nothing but disheveled its perfect appearance a tad. Out of the corner of my eye I seen my father collect himself and stand. I could bank on him being even more furious this time. Fleetly I scurried to the opposite side of the table to take cover.
"Piece of shit girl." He snarled as he approached the opposing side of the table. I gritted my teeth, trying to devise a way to end this, then it came to me. Behind my father I focused in on the sink, taking in the remaining suds I recalled leaving on of my father's blades in there to clean it more thoroughly.

Father began to nudge from side to side, trying to figure a tactical approach. With every step he took, I took an equal and opposite step keeping our distance consistent. It was like watching a tennis match: he took a step, I took one, he took two and so did I.

I had made it far enough around the old table to book it to the sink, and I did. Behind me I heard a huff, then heavy, frustrated footsteps. I dove my hands into the sudsy sink in a panic. I could feel my head and my chest pounding, I had even begun to sweat. It wasn't until I cut my palm on the blade that I found it, and without hesitation I grabbed the handle and turned to face my fast approaching father.

He walked right into it, seem to slide perfectly in between his ribs. I looked at the blade, then my eyes traveled up to meet his. They were cold, colorless, and wide with shock. I pulled the knife from his ribs, it made a unique sound. He took in a muffled breath and slowly fell back onto the floor. I walked over and crouched to look him in the eyes.
"Put up more fight then yer' mother," he chuckled. His teeth carried a pinkish color, choking on his own blood.
"I would have killed you sooner if I had the chance." I threatened, holding the knife to his throat. "If my hand wasn't so forced, I would have done it slower. This time however, guess I really got to the point quick." I smiled. He didn't respond, just gave me a cold look.

I took the knife in both hands, raising it theatrically above my head, then brought it down on his chest. He let out a puff of whisky, along with a spat of blood. I repeated my self, stabbing him twice, five times, twelve, twenty seven, forty times, then I lost count.

I threw the knife across the room and sat back on my elbows to regain my breath. I wiped the blood splatter from my face, then went to go collect Jerome's present. 

Opposite from my last attempt, I opened the present with ease. First pulling at the purple bow to unravel it, then tearing at the wrapping paper. I open the lid to the now bare cardboard box and found inside a,
"Party whistle, blower-thing?" I asked rhetorically. I shrugged a bit and gave it a whistle. Not what I was expecting, but I was content with the gift.

In the midst of my celebration I dropped the box and whistle in reaction to hearing footsteps approaching the trailer. I took a quick breath in, my heart quickly picked up pace. I had to hide- or do something.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I hissed at myself. I seen the knife I'd thrown and scurried to it.
Behind me I heard the door swing open, and a faint mumble
"Rhae..."