Short stories

Worth it in the end

A/N: So this was originally an essay I'd written for my tuition classes so I will probably edit this again later and make it a bit more longer. The topic originally was 'An experience that was hard but ended up worth it'. Enjoy.

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Smiles, those were the worst to endure, those well-meaning, soul crushing smiles. Breathing in the salty air the breeze brings around, I close my eyes and let the memories flood me. They come more easily the more often I remembered.

I was 3 when it happened. Yes, I was just a kid but I remember everything. I was playing with my favourite –and only –toy, a soldier action figure. My dad was bent over a book with his head resting on one palm exhaustedly. I could tell he was tired but my three year old mind was too innocent to comprehend about it too much. I had no mother. She had died giving birth to me so it was just my father and me. We were poor, I knew, but we were happy.

There was a knock on the door, brisk and rough. We never had visitors. My mom's family had nothing to do with her after she got pregnant young and my father had a harsh family history. Still, my dad's head shot up at the knock and he paled visibly. His eyes darted to me when a second harsher knock was heard.

Then at the sound of a voice my dad jumped to his feet and pushed me under the table and pulled the table cloth lower to cover me. The knocks were louder and it sounded like the door was going to be broken down. My heart raced as my dad mumbled a quick 'its ok, it's ok.' before the door broke open.

I peeped out and watched half frozen, too scared to move. Two guys, tall and husky, came in and caught my dad by his arms. Daddy struggled and pleaded rapidly in French but it was no good, they were too strong for him. A third man came in, making the room's temperature drop in an instant with his icy, hard nature. It chilled me to the core. He looked at my dad, a blank expression on his face. My father looked at him pleadingly and uttered "please, no".

The man didn't flinch, didn't waver, just pulled out some steel like string and wrapped the two ends on either of his hands before putting it around daddy's neck. My father's eyes shot wide and met mine as the string tightened a fraction.

"Tu le merite," the man's steely voice whispered before he tightened the string with all his strength. My father struggled in vain against the string choking his throat and I watched frozen, wanting to do something but at the same time, too scared to move. After all what could a boy of three have done anyways? I watched uselessly as my father's body went limp gradually and finally the man released the string and the other two released my father's arms, his lifeless body dropping with a thud. The man who had held the string nodded at the other two and they walked out of my house, the chilly air leaving with them.

It all rushed into me at once. I ran out from under the table and sat beside my father's body with wide eyes, tears running down my cheeks unchecked. "Daddy," I whispered, not knowing what else to do. He didn't move, didn't wake up and wipe my tears away to say 'it's ok.' The red line at his throat stood out starkly against his skin. A buzzing sounded in my ear, my vision blurred and I took my little hands and put it on my father's chest and started screaming. He had to hear that. He had to. He had to. "DADDYY!"

I opened my eyes and took a sharp breath. I hated reliving the rest. When I was 8 I had understood that my father had been killed because he had refused to deal with drugs anymore, he was killed for trying to be a better person. The police refused to get involved with gang businesses so my father's case was passed over. I lived for 14 years, since I was 3, under the roof of an orphanage where I was mistreated and bullied. 

I took another breath of salty air, and breathed out again, trying to let my emotions out. It was no use. I still felt unsatisfied. 

I cocked the gun I was holding and pointed it at the man that was just reviving from his unconsciousness. 'All those years,' I thought as I observed the man struggling against his bounds, 'all those years I suffered and went through so much because my father was murdered unjustly.' The man's eyes widened in fear –who knew he was capable of feeling anything? –at the sight of the gun and he tried to move again but he was bound too tightly for any chance of that. 'Now I make all those years worth the pain I'd gone through.' I looked once again at the sight of the raging sea beyond the cliffs and took one more shaky breath, my emotions matching the sea's. I lowered the gun from his head and aimed at his stomach. "Tu le merite," I whispered before pulling the trigger.

***

So that's my first short story. What are your thoughts on it?

I, personally, wanted this to take a dark turn when I had started writing this because I wanted to explore the idea that worth it doesn't always have to mean it'll be good. Worth it is what you decide satisfies YOU in the end.

Anyways, I hope everyone's doing good! I really hope you'll enjoyed this! Love ya'll!❤

- Ki