Malice

I beat my hands on the table, like the rhythm to my anger. The war drums sounding off in my mind, telling me to keep pace and rhythm, for I know if it'll stop, my hands might be on her instead.

"I have hated you since the dawn of time," my voice harsh and guttural, heat rising up to my ears as the black clouds my vision.

"I have hated you so much, I waited for your death. I welcomed it and sometimes, I dreamt I was the one to deliver it. You hateful, spiteful old bitch. You think everyone is out to get you, the world is out on some vendetta, but you're not that important! You buy people with pretty things, force them to dress up like your cute little dolls and throw fits when gifts aren't accepted.

You terrorized me! Terrorized me and so many others for so many fucking years and you think you can act like you're the victim every time. Your own fucking daughter. You attempted to murder her! My mother, mind you! You wrapped your hands around her throat. Look me in the eye. Tell me it was justified. Tell me that whatever the fuck you were doing justified trying to strangle my own mother.

You're lucky that officer wasn't fucking interested in your ass that day. That he shrank up like some sulking shit and went back to where he came, not wanting to look at the steaming pile you are.

Then, as if to persuade some non-existent God, you praised yourself for 'salvaging' my thirteen birthday while screaming at my grandfather for ruining it. He fell! It was fucking accident, but no... You had to take his walker from him, berate him in the sweltering heat and make him sit out there for hours so you could come pick at him whenever you liked like the buzzard you were. I got him a chair. It wasn't that fucking hard. But you couldn't. You want him to suffer! The man you married, the man you promised to be with till death did you part. Death was a gift for him, a sweet reprieve for the wife he cried for. The one who isn't you, who's name isn't yours and never will be. Bless her soul, I bet she was more of a woman than you ever were. And you put him in that hospital, abusing him till his body couldn't take anymore. And suddenly, as if you were ashamed of it all when he was nearly brain dead and dying... you couldn't even look at him. You fucking coward.

I hope you couldn't sleep for that. I hope he haunted you in your dreams all the years I haven't seen you. Terrorized you with guilt of the ghost of him, the ghost that is your mental image that you created! Because lord only knows, 'I'm sorry baby girl' and-" I would be wiping the tears from my eyes, choking up as I know for a damn fact she'd be scowling at me and I hope she'd be too old to be able to argue "a quiet plea from his best friend to watch over me was his way of finally leaving this place in peace. Knowing he'd protect me from you!" My finger pointing dead at her, at those disgustingly oversized dentures she tried to use to 'flatten the wrinkles' from her terrifying fucking face.

"And here, my words once more, will probably fall on deaf ears! You disgusting. Piece of. Shit! Whither and die *****, whither up in that hole of yours in Oregon. Kiss the feat of my ugly half-sister, and shrivel up and fucking die. You two were a match made in heaven for each other. I shant miss you when you're gone. In fact, I may celebrate. I'll bring the wine and dance naked over your grave."