Colour Me Red [COMPLETED]

25.

25.

       I never considered death a good thing, in fact, it was something I feared during many sleepless and thoughtful nights as a child. When I started to grow up, I wondered whether death would be the most peaceful thing, a happier place to be.

Death to me wasn't always a thing to celebrate, but tonight, even though it wasn't always acceptable, things were different. A part of me was so relieved I wanted to celebrate.

I mean, have you ever laid awake praying that something would all stop? I prayed so hard, I cried in to my pillow as I wished upon every star to get me out of there.

It was a little too late now but something had worked. He was gone and some kind of weight was lifted off my shoulders.

I was free.

And freedom never felt so good.

I laid a wake the rest of the night, my eyelids not closing once. I didn't lay there in fear anymore, I didn't have to be afraid that he would walk in any moment. I could lay here in peace, and if felt so good.

Still, my heart turned in my chest when I thought about my mother. How did she not find out about what he had done to me? When was the right time to tell her?

There were still so many questions running around my mind. Also, how the hell did John die? My mother didn't tell me much on the other end of the phone, she had to hang up as soon as she told me, she seemed a mess and in no need to talk to me.

I felt bad for her, even though this was what I wanted.

Of course I wanted my demon dead. Anybody who lived in a walking, day time night mare wanted the monsters dead.

Hopefully, somebody was looking down on me and decided to make his death a peaceful one. Peace wasn't something I wanted for him, but I had gotten what I wanted and the least it could have been was peaceful.

He was gone, I didn't need to hold a grudge any longer. I could now move on with my life, my life with Nick.

When the sun came up and birds started to chirp, I knew there was just no way I could fall asleep now. I rolled out of bed like a sleep deprived zombie and made my way to the kitchen.

Once I got there, I wasn't surprised to see my father also awake with a coffee in his hands.

"Can't sleep?" He questioned my way before I was in his line of sight. I sighed and moved to the coffee machine.

"Not a wink." I stated. "Has mom rang you?" I asked. She rang me so early on the morning I hadn't asked anyone whether they knew. Did Nick know? Should I text him?

"Yeah." He sighed. "He's dead." He said the words but his words weren't full of remorse. He seemed almost as relieved as me.

"How do you feel?"

"Hell's the best place for him." He mumbled. I looked to him, agreeing, but the words would have never left his mouth before. My father was never a horrible man, he was always so full of humour and light and now? My father was a man full of hatred and hollowness. "Don't look at me like that."

I held my hands up in mock surrender. He was obviously hurting just like I was.

"I'm not going to feel sorry for him, I'm not going to pretend I feel sad he's dead." He replied. "I'm happy he's dead, I hope he died in torture for what he did to you."

"I'm only shocked because you've never spoken about a person like that before." I replied truthfully.

"Well, I'm hurting, Cathy." He looked to me, his eyes one of sadness and anger. There were evident bags beneath his eyes. "I'm allowed to feel this way."