Fate

Fate
By Stephen Abell.
No.of words: 486


I bought them because I needed them. I'd misplaced mine so when I saw the nail-clippers at the yard sale I knew it was fate, how true that turned out to be.

The following night I had a party to be at; I was going to wear open-toed stilettos to accentuate my legs, so I trimmed my nails and put on the first sheen of coloured varnish, I'd finish them tomorrow. After they'd dried I decided to go to bed for some well earned beauty sleep.

I didn't sleep to good: I was plagued by a recurring nightmare that'd wake me with a jerk and a cold feeling of fear running through my very fibre. The nightmare was always the same: Darkness. A blinding sliver of light. Coldness. Pressure of hands forcing me to stay still though I didn't try to escape. Hot breath pulsing on my cheek in ragged breaths. The stink of cigarettes and cheap aftershave. Fear, reluctance, love, loathing, hate, but above all uselessness were the feelings raging in my body. Colder. Rough hands removing my clothes. Pain as the offender entered me. Dryness becoming reluctantly moist with the help of pre-come. Grunting, moaning; silence on my part. Words filled with hate and disgrace made me feel more degraded and unworthy. The slap. Awake again.

Four in the morning, I'd had enough and got out of bed to pee and get a coffee. While on the toilet I noticed the blood coming from my stomach. I shot up and lifted my pyjama top up as urine sprinkled the floor. That was forgotten as I stared into the mirror above the sink.

Six and I was in front of the yard sale owners door. Surprisingly enough, he answered on the second knock and as he opened the door I pushed by him. He flustered after me. In the front room were pictures of a happy family. Father, Mother and Daughter. The Father was the yard sale man, the Mother was beautiful and thin, the Daughter was pudgy and took after her Dad in looks. As I surveyed all the pictures in the room I noticed they'd been taken quite a few years ago, there were no new photo's. Not even of the Daughter. Then I glanced the two obituaries, framed by the door he burst through.

Before he could speak I raised my top. He halted, turned pale then fell silent into an armchair. I wasted no time. My knee slammed into his belly forcing the air out of him. As his mouth opened I rammed the nail clippers down his throat. It took a couple of minutes of him clawing and choking before he died. I looked at my stomach and was relieved to see the cuts, from the clippers, and the words "My Daddy Raped Me" fading. I took the obit's as I left the house for some well deserved beauty sleep.


[for the "Struck By Lightening" competition - prompt "An item bought at a yard sale."]