DELICIOUS FICTION STORIES
Scarred Masterpiece — Fiction (Pt 1)
An Excerpt From My Untitled Short Story Collection
My father did the unthinkable to me as a child.
He was my worst nightmare. The kind that made my skin crawl with dread, and my scream die unheard.
He tore my world apart and scarred me for life. I ran, but now I’m back with a bloodlust for vengeance.
It’s only fair that I make him pay. He took something of mine and I’ll take something of his.
A life for a life.
Watching him jerk awake with a start, I could feel the anticipation of what was to come boiling in my veins as he groans from the sudden blinding light hurting his eyes, then tried to block out the rays with his hands.
He couldn’t.
I smile.
Seeing him fully alert, scanning his surroundings with a hint of trepidation in his frantic and utterly useless pull at the cords around his hands, gave me a chilling thrill. I hadn’t realized how much I was looking forward to enjoying this until now.
He stops pulling and jerks his eyes open when his seat tilts. “Who are you, people? Don’t touch me,” he yells, gripping the armrest hard as someone carefully whirled him around to face us.
“Sophia?” He croaks, taken aback. He pales and turns blue, then red, then green with fury.
I step forward, keeping my distance from him, not because I was afraid of him, but because I didn’t want to give in to the rage, I felt and end things quickly for him.
“Hello, Father. Did you miss me?”
He spat at my feet, eyes bloodshot and threatening. “I was never your father,” he barks. “Any child not of my loins is unworthy to be called my own,” he says, snickering.
“Why are you alone? Aren’t there supposed to be two of you? You know she’ll need protecting as always when this is all over and you aren’t there to shield her from my wrath”
“Someone has to pay for this crazy stunt of yours. It may very well be her. Olivia was always willing to pay the price for your sins,” he says, smiling slyly.
“And she will pay.”
My palms twitch, and the nerve endings on my neck pulse with rage, but I reel it in, bidding my time. The nerve of him, thinking he was still intimidating instead of groveling to save his life.
It made me smile that he still didn’t understand the play unfolding before his eyes, but I’ll make sure he remembers every single moment of the night I’m about to recreate.
He never could tell me and my sister apart, but he was about to experience the greatest shocker of his life.
I smirk at his audaciousness. “You speak as if you’re running this show, Father. How about you look around and think again,” I say to him, gesturing around him.
He scoffs, taking his time to do a slow scan of the large room, his gaze eventually resting on the wooden bed at the end of the slightly darkened corner of the room.
Returning his icy gaze to meet mine, he spat at my feet. “What child’s play is this, Sophia? Is this the best you’ve got? All that talk about making me pay, and punishing me for doing my job as a father; is this the fucking best you’ve got?” he asked, yelling the last part with venom dripping through each syllable.
My fingers immediately wrapped around his neck, nails digging into his flesh. My eyes bore into his because I needed him to see the revulsion in them when I say my piece.
“I hate — to have to call you — by that name because what you were to us was a monster,” I say, tightening my fist around his throat, feeling his pulse jump in my hands.
“And today is your day of reckoning.”
“Shall we begin?” Jack asked from the room’s far end, causing me to loosen my hold on his neck. It was his way of telling me to stick to the plan and not allow my blood lust to get the better of me.
Smiling as my father struggles to draw breath, I reply.
“Yes.”
Hi, I’m O.J. Ebubeoha, an African contemporary romance and erotic author.
I also enjoy crafting steamy short stories and heartwarming, suspense-filled romance stories for pleasure.
You’re welcome to read more of my delicious fiction stories.
Thank you for reading my piece.
