The Beast

The happiest day of my life was the day I saw my parents leaving me forever. Never to be seen again they marched away with their heads hung low. I, on the other hand walked away with relief. I'd never have to go back there ever again. I'd never have to return home and step foot in that house or on that property.

It was right there. Huge, dark and looming over the house like a disappointed teacher - hands on hips and all. I never looked directly at it; I didn't even acknowledge the sounds coming out of it. When I had to carry things from the house to that horrid place I kept my head down and I went back to the house as quickly as I could - not looking back. Everyone loved my father but I knew who he really was. He was a local man, respected and adored by everyone in town. He was trusted and was the handyman for every damsel in distress that called upon his fixing hands.

I hated the way everyone smiled at him not knowing the monster that he was. I hated knowing who he really was but momma did too and she turned a blind eye. At least I thought that's what she was doing but that was when I was younger. Now I know she was his cheerleader in some gross way and she supported him in all that he did. I didn't know exactly what went on behind that old barn door but I knew it wasn't good. My stomach churned when he said he was going to get some work done. I couldn't look at him when he said "see you later" and I couldn't say "I love you" back either.

I remember the day he was found out. I will never forget the sounds that wrung through the air breaking the void of my anxiety with a sort of relief. Those beautiful flashing colors that I saw coming through the night sky. I don't know how or who called the cops but I am so very happy they did. Dad is in prison now and he's not going to be coming out for the rest of his life. Unfortunately Momma is in prison too for being an accomplice to dad so here I sit in a foster home of crazies - the good kind of crazies. I mean they're not so bad but for some reason they really like singing songs before every meal. I guess I'm just not used to that sort of thing.

I keep having nightmares of that big old looming beast outside our house. "The den of evil" is what the papers were calling it - if I were them I'd call it something more like "The Pit of Hell." The craziest thing about all of this is that momma and dad didn't know that I knew about any of it. They always saw me as this mindless air-headed kid who knew nothing. They would talk to me like I was real slow and sometimes they would make jokes about putting me out of my misery "like the rest of em'" they'd say this and it would be followed by their gross laughter.

I'll never forget the look on their faces when I agreed to testify against them in court. The shock in their eyes and the absolute blatant look of bewilderment. I testified against them because what they did made me absolutely sick. The fact that they treated me like a fool just added to the rest of it. I had to testify against them - it was like letting off the biggest load off my chest. It was like burning that bridges that you've been meaning to burn or just breathing fresh air for the first time in a long time. I couldn't defend the monsters that they were.

Dad was no farmer. He was no handy man. He wasn't even that stand up guy everybody thought he was. He was run of the mill stereotypical serial killer and the day I found out was the day I grew up. It was the day I became separate from him and my momma. The Pit of Hell was no barn used by a humble farmer man it was a place of evil and death. When they marched out that court room with their heads hung low I could help but beam up at the judge. I was so relieved to be out of the grips of that looming beast.