The story so far:
It had been a normal day. Uncle Frank was out of it as usual when I arrived at home after school. He mumbled something about me not minding him as I raced up the stairs but I didn't stop to listen to him put me down today. I was awaiting a call from a very prestigous school that I had applied to and I was so excited. I sat on my bed thumbing through the folder that the Admissions Representative had given me. The school had an awesome entry level medical program and I was going to be accepted. Mother and Father/Doctor would be so proud.
"Didn't that ****ty mother of yours teach you no manners? When an adult speaks to you, you speak back!" Uncle Frank came barging in my bedroom.
Uncle Frank had always been a sneaky man with less than morally sufficient character but in the past year his drug habit had turned him worse...and abusive.
He was shaking the whip in the air. He often used it on me at a distance because I could outrun him. There were uncountable scars lashed all over my body. "I um, I was just..." I began to try to stammer something out, something that would keep him from hitting me.
"You what? Are worthless just like the rest of your **** family. What is all this school bull****? You aren't goin' to school. You'll make a livin' just like your Uncle Frank," he said as a cracked the whip. It hit right across my lower abdomen and I went down in unbearable pain. It was here that I possessed a strength I never knew I had. A strength like the one mother had when she went running into the living room after father had shot himself. A strength that Father/Doctor held onto all through mother's demise and afterward to help her only child that he had created. A strength I could never imagine myself mustering up against a man so violent and fierce. But that strength was one that I couldn't control. One that the court systems seen as that of a monster. I wasn't a monster. I only had many years of pent up aggression.
I tackled him and drug him, kicking and screaming, outside toward our barn. On the way I picked up a roll of barbed wire. I strapped him by his limbs to a horse stall with the barbed wire and it was here that my game began. I broke each finger one by one and yelled something about how he treated someone that I had cared about. I then lit him on fire from his feet and waited with a fire extinguisher. Once the flames rose to his neck, and the wood on the stall, I put the fire out.
"Are you ****in' crazy? AHH! Put it out! You're going to kill me! OUWWW! I'm sorry, I will help you do whatever you want just please, don't kill me!" Uncle Frank was screaming in agony, and sadistically, I loved it.
His body had began to shake uncontrollably and he began to vomit. I didn't care. I took the whip, the same one he had used on me so may times, and beat him across the chest until I didn't see his chest moving anymore. They counted 87 slash marks across his charred body. And I had been so upset that they didn't dare tell me this kind of information, well at least until they arrested me. The following week and a half they looked and looked for a suspect. I was too mortified to even want to help. They had came by several times to talk about a potential suspect and I always managed to burst into tears and take off running toward my bedroom.
Until one day, when they discovered a partial thumbprint. That was all it took to put me behind bars for life without parole. Father/Doctor would not have been proud.