Criminal X : Epitome Of Evil-Chapter 44: Domestic Violence

Everyone in the Numb city knows me.

Everyone always told me that I am very pretty. ’Fictional beauty’, they would say.

But then why is it that everytime when my father looks at me, he makes a sour face? Am I not beautiful to him? To my own father?

My mother, on the other hand, always showered me with unconditional love. She was more beautiful than me. I know every child says that but my mother was really beautiful.

She used to pray to some Goddess Alfida, she would join her palms and ask for a guardian angel for me. I could see it on her face that she prayed with utmost sincerity.

I never understood why she prayed that, and for me at that. Why didn’t she pray for herself? She needed the guardian Angel more than me.

The Angel would have saved her from my father. The Angel would have stopped my father from beating my mother from his leather belt. The Angel would have stopped my father everyday.

I was too young to understand what was going on with my parents. I just saw tears and pain on my mother’s face and I felt an intense emotion of wrapping her entire body in my arms. If an Angel can’t come then it would be me who will save her.

Alas, my hands were too small to cover my mother and my father destroyed my mother everyday.

He once crashed the mirror of his room on my mother’s face, and because of that my mother lost her eyesight. She became blind permanently. Now she won’t be able to see anything. Now she won’t be able to see me.

But a part of me was glad that she became blind. Now she won’t be able to see my father as well. I am sure his face makes my mother puke her guts out. He torments her day in and day out. My mother must hate my father. He causes her pain, after all.

But I was wrong. My mother loved my father. She loved him even after receiving great amounts of pain. What I learned from this was : Love is the most violent act.

I could forgive my father for all of his wrongs against me, if only he had treated my mother differently.

It was an echo of what my mother once said, "He may not be a good husband, but he is a good father."

How do I tell her that one cannot exist without the other?

He would never be a good father.

He is not good to my mother.

The torments of my father continued on my mother even after she became blind.

I was slowly growing up as well so I began to understand why this was happening.

My father wanted a boy, a son, but all he received from my mother were daughters. That too, dead ones.

My parents were married when they were twenty years old and since then all the children my mother gave birth to were girls and they died the moment they were born.

My mother cried a lot at their loss. Her grief was tremendous but my father shed no tears. I am sure he wasn’t even sad at their deaths.

The six girls were said to have some kind of illness that made them die the moment they were born. They were so lucky. They won’t get to see their mother in pain.

Anyway, after six girls, I was their seventh child and the first one to ever live. And yes, I was a girl too.

After my birth, my parents tried to have another baby but the doctor told him that my mother can’t become a mother anymore. She became incapable of giving another birth.

And after that day, my mother faced hell.

There were new scars and bruises everyday on my mother’s body, she used to hide it with baggy clothes but I still caught glimpses of those wretched purple marks of pain.

My house reeked from alcohol and it screamed with the painful cries of my mother.

I was six years old when I noticed that not once did my father ever look at me and whenever his eyes mistakenly fell on me he would make a face that said, "Why were you even born?"

After that, at the tender age of six years, I learned what hatred means. I felt that after all.

All this while, my mother never stopped praying to Goddess Alfida, and she always had that annoying smile on her face. How could she smile like that after getting treated like a dog? Why couldn’t she see that she was wasting her love on an asshole of a man?

I loved my mother and I couldn’t bear to watch my mother getting beaten daily just because she wasn’t able to give my father a son. I couldn’t see that and more than that, I can’t see my mother taking my father’s abuse as his love.

The once beautiful woman was nowhere to be seen now. My father drank her beauty and spat it back on her with the vomit of his excessive alcohol.

One day, I finally asked her, "Why are you still living with him? Go away. You’ll be happier that way. Don’t worry about me."

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My mother showed me that annoying smile of hers and answered, "Because I love him. He was there for me when no one else was. This pain is nothing. I am sure he will soon forgive me and start loving me again. I will just wait till that time comes."

What an idiot my mother was. Wait till that time comes? And till then should I watch her getting beaten up? It was uncomfortable for me. I couldn’t watch her being harassed. I had to do something. God or that Goddess Alfida of hers won’t help her.

Falling in love with a God is not a death sentence. The story is only a tragedy if the God loves you back. But it was clear that God wasn’t loving back my mother. So then I took the matter in my own hands.

I couldn’t watch my mother crying and howling in pain, so to relieve myself from my own stress…

I killed my mother myself.