You’re shocked and unable to move.

You look breathless, maybe more than breathless - I’m standing at a distance too far to tell. I creep closer to catch a glimpse of your face. Your ever-shining, ever-bright, and ever-gleaming face in a brief moment grows cold and lifeless.

You fall to your knees, unable to understand why there is a pool of blood before you. But you are not crying. You are relieved. You know your suffering is over. You know the soulless man lying before you, won’t put his hands on you anymore. You know you won’t have to mask your bruises with excessive makeup or wear long-sleeve clothing anymore. You know that your wishes have finally come to pass and –

Tears?

Are those tears? Why are you on your knees screaming? Why are you shaking his body? Is this not what you wanted? Did you not want him gone, dead and away from you forever? I overheard you saying that to your friend on the phone. Why are you crying? Stop making me feel bad. Stop crying! Stop it! Stop! Stop screaming his name! Haven’t you realized that I’m watching you? Do you not know that I can slit your throat as I did his? STOP IT!

Tears?

From…my eyes?

Why am I crying?

I step out from within the curtains, tears still streaming down my face, and tap my wailing mother. “Mom,” you look up. You’re scared, there’s a bloody knife in my hands and you do not know how to unarm me. We look at each other for a brief moment, unable to comprehend what we've just witnessed.

"Is this not what you wanted Mother?" I say, sobbing and slowly moving towards you. In a scramble to get away from me, you fall to your feet. Your stoic nature becomes undressed by fear as I take gingered steps towards you. I begin to wonder if there's any difference between my dead abusive father and me.

“Where did all this hatred come from?” I ask you, as you slowly crawl away from me. You do not answer. “Have I always been like this? Have I always been cruel, evil, wicked, and murderous?” I say to myself.

“You made me do this. You made me hate him. I hate you as much as I hated him,” I say to her dumbstruck face. “I wish you killed me when you had the chance to. I wish you did not bring me into your hell. Things would not have ended this way for the both of you.”

“You gave me the curse of life, and I don’t want to forgive you for that,” I say crawling toward you.

We are now face-to-face, my knife pointing at your throat. Your breathing becomes quiet and peaceful. I stare into your eyes wondering if there's still love for that reflection I see within them.

"Do you still love me, Mama?" I ask.

You nod.

"Then why did you do this to me?"

There’s blood on the knife again.