Lazarus the Maternal

"It felt pretty good knowing I'd never have to see him again. Although I'd be a liar if I said killing him didn't tear me up inside. Even if he had it coming, who am I to decide who deserves to live or die? In a way, I'm just as bad as he was. He killed someone, I killed someone. We're square according to the scoreboard. Fiction tends romanticize murder, but I assure you--there's nothing redeeming about it.

Something about that place changed me. I didn't come to my senses until I left. While I was there, all emotion, logic, and thoughts of consequence went right out of the window. Even though I hated him, I should've felt something when I killed him. Nothing. No tears, no excitement, no joy, no regret. I was as cold as a sociopathic surgeon. Once I started to head home, everything came rushing back. I hadn't cried like that since my great-grandmother died. Then I remembered what my dad had did to my mom. It was too much for me to handle. I wanted to go back to the warehouse forever. Live there like nothing ever happened.

When I made it back home, I parked my mom's car in the garage. To my surprise, there she was in the kitchen, eating a slice of cherry cheesecake. I knew it was her favorite, but not "bring her back from the dead" favorite. She seemed so overjoyed that I was alive, she completely overlooked the fact that I had her car. "Oh my god, I thought you were your father". She gave me the biggest hug I've ever experienced. I was happy she was still alive, but still overall in ruin because of what I had did.

She told me with tears in her eyes that dad had assaulted her and tried to have his way with her. She said she couldn't handle it anymore. So she took his favorite tool of destruction, and tried to kill herself. The loss of blood caused her to slip into unconsciousness. Miraculously, she regained consciousness and called 911. While she was in the hospital, she said she was worried about me the whole time.

"When I noticed you and your father were gone, I feared for you" she said. "After what he tried with me, I thought he might have tried to hurt you too. He's been abusing me for years, and I just got sick of it. I couldn't protect you...I couldn't protect myself. I didn't know what to do". "Well, I'm here and everything's fine now", I replied. "But you were gone for three days" she said. "What?" I replied, with a stunned look on my face. "Three days", she said, "Where were you?" she asked. Fuck. What do I say? I said the first thing that came to my mind, "Hiding from dad". "That's why I took your car. He tried to kill me, and I had to get away". With a puzzled look on her face, she said "He has a tracker on my car, he would've found you immediately. He must have ran away". "If anything, the cops will find him. Either way we never have to see him again". She has no idea how right she was."