They Killed My Father, Now I’ll Take Their Lives

According to rural customs, those who die unexpectedly must remain in the house for seven days before burial.

Ryman was a slob in life, but in death, he lay neatly in his coffin.

I stared at his ugly, repulsive face, still twisted in death, and couldn’t help myself. I scooped up some of the dog shit from next door and smeared it across his face.

No one noticed.

As the coffin was lowered into the ground, I secretly smiled, a touch of smugness in my expression.

People like him deserved to rot in the dirt forever, just like that dog shit.

The air was filled with the mournful wails of the villagers.

They hadn’t even known Ryman when he was alive, but now they cried as if they had lost a close relative.

Cyrus wailed loudly, but his eyes kept greedily sizing up my mom and me.

Martha, sharp-eyed, caught my smile before I could hide it and immediately screamed, “You little slut! Your father’s dead and you can still smile?”

She reached out to grab me.

My mother quickly pulled me close, tears in her eyes as she whispered, “Serena’s just a child. She doesn’t understand anything.”

Martha continued her tirade, still determined to teach me a lesson.

Cyrus grabbed her sleeve, giving it a gentle shake, as if signaling her to stop.

The commotion seemed to settle.

But my mother’s body was tense with fear.

I gripped her bony arm tightly and whispered, “Don’t worry, Mom. Serena will protect you.”

My mother hugged me even tighter, as if trying to bury me inside her very bones.

Once we were home, she locked every window and door with fervor.

She was acting as if we were about to face a great enemy.

In the dead of night, someone knocked violently on the wooden door.

I jolted awake.

My mother trembled as she held me.

The door was sturdy enough, and when the person couldn’t break in, they finally left.

We had just begun to relax when we heard footsteps circling the house, eventually stopping in front of the window.

The wooden window was weak, and it didn’t take long for the person to pry it open.

My mother clutched me, trying to escape.

A flash of lightning split the night sky, and I saw who it was—Cyrus!

“Don’t run, sister-in-law, I’m here to comfort you.”

His cruel grin sent shivers down my spine as he shoved us both onto the bed.

My mother screamed, “No! Get away!”

Before I could react, he yanked me by the collar and threw me outside.

The door slammed shut with a “bang,” leaving my mother and Cyrus alone inside.

My mother’s desperate cries echoed from the room, mixed with Cyrus’s vile curses.

I scrambled to my feet, pounding on the door with all my strength.

“You shameless, disgusting old pervert! Let go of my mother!”

I shouted every curse I knew at Cyrus.

The sky thundered, and the wind howled as rain began to pour down in torrents.

The rain drenched me, mixing with my tears and snot.

For the first time, I felt truly powerless, and I tasted the bitter sting of despair.

I don’t know how much time passed before my mother’s cries slowly ceased.

Morning came, and the rain finally stopped.