A Father's Touch

First Secrets

Do you ever find somebody you love but there little "quirks" make you hate them? Well this story is for the people who didn't chuckle at  that comment. 

I remember the night that my glorious fate with carnage had begun. The deceitful whore knowed not of my presence. While the whore I once called my wife and her toy slithered into my bed, creaking the floorboards, I sat beneath basking in my rage. The screams and moans started soft and muffled. Shrinks so small that the very pillow that was intertwined with their joyful lust would not have heard a whisper. I had worked late that night and had informed the witch of my intentions. From the moment I had opened the door I could feel the very essence of sin laid thick in the air. I didn't suspect the worst until I saw liquor spilled upon the floor and a picture once hanging on the wall beside the staircase to the bedrooms now on the floor. I bent down to see which photo it was using the moon as my only source of light. The glass shattered and frame bent. The picture was of my family two years ago. It depicted a lovely hope. In the photo Mirranda my wife, Lisa, my only daughter, Jean, the oldest of the siblings, Gerard the youngest of the family, and of course myself were in the picture. Lily was wrapped around me as she always was. She was Daddy's little girl.. My wife stood in the middle, strong and almost solitude. That's how she led here life. Jean was leaning up against the Oak Tree that his younger brother was climbing. Gerard was always a bit of a daredevil. Though we're all in our Sunday best, Jean still looked a bit "edgy" according to him. I pondered the cause of this "tragedy". Little did I know the tragedy was yet to come. In the short amount of time it took to analyze this picture, the moans had become more audible. I raised to my full height but had to sit back down due to shock. I slowly and quietly lean into the old green shag chair that had always made me smile due to the reminiscing upon the past and the 70's nostalgia I had lying in my room. This time though, the nostalgia had never appeared to me. Instead I simply sat upon the dreary night pondering about my dreadful existence. When I was young my mother always told me about the horrible consequences given for meaningless actions, yet I see not where I have wronged. I was a successful businessman who worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation and lived to support his family. What more could a cruel and torturing god want from me mother? That wasn't the only questioned that rushed through my head. Was this the first time she had laid unfaithfully? What about the children? Are they truly mine? They always did look almost identical to their mother with their golden hair and ivory eyes. Except for Lisa. She was the odd one with hair as dark and rich as a raven's feather and sea chanty eyes that would make any man get lost at sea. She was my natural beauty. As the moans became screams and the floors and walls began to shake I slipped into a dark depression with more questions rushing through my head than I could answer. The only thing that was for certain was that all these questions would be answered and there would be hell to pay.