I never liked you.
From the very beginning…
I should have stopped you from entering our lives, seeping inside our home like a kind of bitterness that filled every corner and crevasse.
I should have known you weren’t good enough for Kay, should have screamed and yelled and jumped up and down in rebellious fury…
I should have broken all of your fingers so you couldn’t pick up a gun.
I should have wrapped your mouth with duct tape to end your belittling, demeaning, poisonous tongue.
But I stood silent.
The first time I saw your face, somehow I knew. I knew—as a cat recognizes with her sixth sense, with her fur that stands strait up.
I remember clearly…so unreservedly clearly you coming over to our old white house on 65th. and Kay calling me into the kitchen asking excitedly, “Well, what do you think of him?”
“He looks like a monster,” I replied.
That’s what I said. Did she ever tell you?
You never left after that night. You hung around like one of mom’s knick knacks, like a substanceless individual that never added anything to anything.
You just Took. Took. Took.
You even sucked up the fucking air.
You expected everything but gave nothing.
You were obsessed with a sixteen year old girl who would one day become your trophy wife, your Lolita….Somebody you could mold and shape into your own private puppet.
Remember when Kay tried to leave you the first time?
You sat outside our house for hours upon hours. Just sat there like a predator, like a stalker, like a black lingering cloud.
Taking up space.
Mom and I kept looking out the front window…and there you were.
Sitting. Crying. Waiting. Watching.
God, I wish you would have died then. Died from the fumes of your car…..your own toxic breath.
Why couldn’t you have left Kay alone?
Found somebody else to save you?
Found somebody else to make you feel whole?
Kay’s love, love, love overflowed into the universe like oxygen. You tried to take it all.
Absorb it all. Make it your own.
But her love wasn’t enough for you.
I told dad 15 years ago —“He’s Going To Hurt Her One Day.”
And you did—Didn’t you?
You son-of-a-bitch. You evil son-of-a-bitch.
She was the best thing that ever happened to you….the best part of you.
And she was Everything to me.
Connected to my veins, my heart, my soul, my blood, the root of my roots.
Didn’t you give a damn that Jordan would find you both on the tiled floor…
Shot, Murdered, Bleeding?
Are you in Hell? Are you Burning up?
I hope not.
Because even after all of your killing and planning and insidious, unsmiling nature…
I still feel sorry for you. Yes, sorry.
You are like the roach out of Kafka’s book.
The pathetic roach that contributed nothing, nothing, nothing….just stank up the world.
And now Kay is finally free of you.
And that’s all she wanted….all she ever wanted.
“I feel a burst of Joy,” she told me a few months before you murdered her.
“Just knowing I will not need to be with him anymore.”
She’s not with you. Never. Never. Never again.
Perhaps that is your true Hell.
My ~~~Best Friend Was Murdered On MAY 26, 2010 by Mike Peterson. The World Will Never Be The Same. The sun shines differentely.
Kay, Daddy, Kim. Love. Always. Forever.
For support and more information please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or at TTY 1-800-787-3224.
click here NOW >http://www.thehotline.org/get-help/help-in-your-area/