I woke up to the buzzing of busy houseflies. The evil greenish
black creatures hovering round my parents‘ lifeless bodies hungrily. I do not
know how long I was out for or how I got downstairs from my vantage position at
the gallery but the stench that emanated from their decaying body was nauseating.
Whatever happened that night was gory, their bodies told the story quite
elaborately. Chopped fingers and cigarette burns, a torn pelvic region on my
stepmother, a bashed skull, dried blood and the dining table and sticky blood
all over the Italian marble.
Scarface’s voice echoed in my head and flashes of the
multiple rape sessions reeled sketchily in my memory. The screams of both my
parents jeered my nerves as I slowly recollected and the last image of my
father was the anguish in his eyes as they met mine squarely. I am not sure if
he saw me but that bitter look overwrote any other memory of my father I had. It
was a night of pure torture on his side and excitement on my and I think that
night flipped whatever switch that controlled this part of me.
I must have been in and out of consciousness for three days.
Their bloated bodies and stench was evidence of that assumption. The reality of
my situation suddenly dawned on me! I am indeed now an orphan in the full
definition of that word. It was no longer a feeling but a reality. “Where would
a young boy of ten go from that point?” was what I pondered. I did not know any
relatives or friends of my parents. My father was too ashamed of me to take me
anywhere and he got what he deserved.
I struggled to my feet and took one last good look at what
Scarface and his gang had done and ran up the flight of stairs to my father’s
room. He always kept emergence cash somewhere in his room and some other
valuables. All I had to do was find the cash which was not hard because he had
packed bags for the failed escape.
On the bed in his room I saw a briefcase next to his travel
bag, inside it was a lot of money that I could not count. Bundles of one
hundred dollars bills and some smaller bills. I knew my dad was rich but I was
unaware that he was that rich. I saw a small duffel bag next to his bedside
lamp and opening it reveal a lot of jewelleries. I picked up the bag and
briefcase, headed to my room to pack my luggage and went back downstairs.
I took one final glance at my parents, walked down to my stepmother’s
corpse and attempted to squeeze her breasts. They looked bigger but were hard
and felt very cold. I had always wanted to touch her sexy bosom but I was disappointed by this outcome. As I opened
the door and the warm sunlight bathed my face, I took a decisive step forward
to a bright future. Or so I thought. The worst was yet to begin…
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