She's crying again. I can hear her muffled sounds that she tries to conceal with her pillow. She has been sobbing for quite a while now. She really won't stop. And that really gets on my nerves. Why is she crying? What is there to cry about? Her evil abusive alcoholic monster of a husband died. That's quite frankly happy news.

Is she not happy that she's not going to be mistreated by him anymore? Is she not happy to finally find an escape?

You see this is why you don't help weak people. Weak people want to remain in their miseries. They are comfortable being treated like garbage and even if you build them a tunnel out of their problems, they will insist on staying where they are. They want to cry just for feeling. Heartbreaks give them some sort of high.

I can't believe I wasted my brain cells, my fifteen year old brain cells looking for a way to get us out of the mess she put us in just so she could cry like a sissy. If she knew how hard it is to gain access to tetrodotoxin especially for a kid my age, she would start to appreciate all I do for this family. Right now with her endless mourning, I feel like she's deeply disrespecting my hustle and I am not happy with that.

She sobs slightly more louder and blows her nose. For Pete's sake! Can't this stupid woman get a grip? Is she really crying for that ugly pig that narrowly beat her to death just a week ago? There's never been a case of Stockholm syndrome this severe. What a hopeless fool she is.

Now she is crying in a strange tone and her voice keeps rising and falling. Like the exaggerator she's always been.

Finally when I can't take it anymore I sit up and look to her in the darkness of our tiny room.

"Mom, stop crying." I say

"Cassie, sweetheart did I wake you?" She asks me with a soft voice.

"No you didn't wake me. You kept me up all night with your cries." I answer sternly.

"I am sorry love, I was just...thinking about your father. That's all."

"Thinking about how he almost killed you with his belt?" I ask straightforwardly

"Cassie! Sweetie, we shouldn't think of that right now! Your dad just passed away!"

"So am supposed to act like I have amnesia?"

"Cassie, I do not care for your tone one bit. You shall speak to me with respect."

I hide a tiny smirk. She's really asking for respect when she's the one crying over someone that treated her like his punching bag? The sheer stupidity.

"Mom. If it's okay, can I please get some sleep? I have school tomorrow. No more crying please." I say

"Wait, baby, your dad just died. Are you sure you want to go to school tomorrow?"

"Of course. Why would I miss school?" I ask

"Well, it's your father's mourning so I thought..."

"I am okay mom. I really want to go to school. I have nothing to do here." I say.

"Cassie, my love, do you not like your dad? Even a little?"

"Good night mommy." I enter the sheets and lay there almost bursting in laughter.

What the hell does she mean don't I like that useless man? Honestly, why would I like him? Does she think I am deluded like her?

I hate him. I have always hated him and I always will. If I get a chance I will spit on his grave.

He is nothing to me apart from the man that gave me the worst childhood memories. The reason why I can never be happy. The man I hate the most in life.

And I am so glad that I made the applause worthy decision to kill him. I am so proud of myself for being brave enough to poison him. Bet he never saw that coming.

I made sure that as he was struggling to breathe, feeling scared as he held on for dear life that I looked at him with the look of satisfaction. I made sure to make him know that it was me that had destroyed him. Me, a little kid that he overlooked had ripped the life out of him.

I remember vividly as tears rolled down his fat ugly cheeks begging for me to give him water, I stood right there and didn't move an inch and told him, "you should have never messed with me." And I recall with so much joy how he tried to put the pieces together and how his face reddened as he realized that this was sweet revenge for all the crap we'd been through.

I remember him pointing at me and saying 'you' just before he died. He passed away with his finger pointed at me. I quickly put his finger back and closed his eyes then celebrated over his corpse with his favorite beer and recited a poem I love so much for his dead body,

"There's a price we all pay, there's a darkness for whom we must pave way, in hell or heaven , in sorrow or joy, pain or pleasure- there comes a time when we must all go away-" Goodbye old man- I added for good measure.

I looked at his dead pathetic self and thought to myself- I could do anything.

And now as I lay in bed I congratulate myself inwardly one more time and I let myself fade happily to sleep fully knowing that he is nowhere in sight. He won't hurt me anymore.

And no one, absolutely no one will ever hurt me and get away with it again. Never again.