“She questioned me.”
It was the last thing he said to me before he left. It plagued my consciousness. Could it be? I thought on it, refusing to sleep. When he hung his lamp the next day, or what I assumed to be the next day, I ran at him, throwing my weight to topple him to the ground. Wishing his head would break open as he hit the floor.
“You bastard! You killed my mother!” I screamed. I did not know I was crying until my vision grew blurry. My head pounded, my nose blocked.
He pushed me off him with ease, dusting himself off. I sat on the floor in the semi-dark room, my head hung low, almost touching my thighs. Everything I knew was a lie. This man was a lie.
My life was a mess because of him.
I did not know it but he played us all. Played me! I wanted to split his head op
