He Stole What Could Not Be Returned - Part Four

This place I thought would be a paradise to my dreams in life was now a place that disgusts me. Taking a stroll round my uncle's house, I place my hands on the walls, I take a walk round the house; from my room, to the living room, to the verandah, to the bathroom and toilet, to the kitchen, to the garden, to the fence. The energy and amusement of being home was now dead.

All the cherished memories left me after my uncle polluted my life and broke the premature hymen of my pre-womanhood. But despite all the immoral acts. He still sought for what laid under my skirt. He was obsessed with it. Anyways, I was prepared to sacrifice it for the greater good of my retribution.

He didn't see what I was preparing in stock for him. He couldn't read between the lines, after all I didn't make it obvious. I submitted to all his lustful desires. And every moment he came to defile me I was counting the perfect time to strike.

In my lonely time alone orchestrating how to destroy him. My demonic half would come to me uttering various destructive ideas. The first of many was to blind his eyes by thrusting two pairs of scissors into his eyes while he slept and stab him in cold blood but I doubted the scheme would generate a 100% success rate.

The second idea my vengeful half proposed to me was to lure him to the abandoned well in the back of the house and subtly maneuver to his back and push me into it but after given this scheme some thoughts we opined the success rate to be low as there could be a tendency of him resisting my push given my fragile body and his muscular stature.

This discussion to kill him became similar to that of 1000 ways to die show, a show popularly broadcasted on TV….

After much intermittent conservation with my sweet demon. The perfect plot suddenly dribbled it's way into our quest to destroy my evil uncle and the success rate was deemed sufficient to pacify our wrath. The plot was a stealth nuclear bomb. That would be deactivated by the touch of slumber. The sleep and death plan.

On the 24th day of my aunt's absence, the day I marked for his last breath on earth. The day I will steal his life which can't be returned. He got a call from the secretary of the company where his wife works. He was told she had passed away from a sudden plane crash and the matter was under stern investigation. He received sincere condolences from the company representative and wasn't moved by the tragic news.

He didn't feel sorry about the matter, he didn't care. Maybe because she was diagnosed as a barren woman or maybe she was always busy with work with less time for their marriage. Still the grip to fall into mourning didn't overwhelm him instead her death brought good riddance.

What a heartless beast….!

That night he came knocking at my door, he didn't know I had planned the perfect plot to kill him. Earlier in the day, I had gathered the money my aunt gave to me before she traveled and passed away. I went to the nearest pharmacy to buy the strongest powdered, odorless and colorless sleeping substance. I lied to the pharmacist that my dad couldn't sleep properly, so she didn't question me too much on why such content was needed.

I kept two empty glass cups at the edge of my bed and a jug of water. One cup was spiked with the sleeping substance and the other untouched. I dressed in my nightgown, exposed part of my pubescent body to turn on my uncle. Someone who was supposed to be in mourning was instead blinded by the misdirection of the evil snake in between his legs.

He came knocking anyways…..

I could see something like a rod erected when he entered and was eagerly obsessed to taste the sweetness of my body. I played along and used my body language to invite him into desperation. The moment he came close, I delayed him and persuaded him to have a cup of water. He refused at first but after three rounds of persuasion he agreed to have a drink.

He didn't know he would drink from his cup of iniquity which was at the brim and overflowing towards the gallons of judgement.

He began to shove that hard rod into me, after five rounds of dipping it in and out of me. He passed away like a lifeless bird. Now I had him in the palms of my hand. I had him where I always wanted him to be. To die while sleeping although I wanted something gruesome and tormenting whilst his eyes wide awake.

I opened the drawer beside my bed and brought out the razor sharp knife. In that moment I was contemplating to spare him but my second half, the sweet demon who was the mastermind behind my retribution compelled me to do the needful. After struggling with my compassionate yin and my wrathful yang. I drove the knife into his heart. I did it repeatedly, screaming "die! die! die! you must die!" and that was how the chapter of the wounded rabbit killed the hunter.

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The end……

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This is the last part of this story. You can read the first part here, second part here and the third part here.

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