I stabbed my pancakes with a fork, just like I wanted to stab my grandfather’s cold, dead heart. All last night, I couldn’t sleep because of him. I’d tossed and turned in the bed, throwing the sheets off me and then curling up into them. All those evil memories of my childhood haunted me. They had been stowed away for so long, just waiting for the day I unleashed them. Now, they were here, and they weren’t leaving.
Every place my grandfather had trailed his fingers, every curve, every crevice, every hole …
I felt it. I f*****g felt it.
Grandma and my parents must’ve known what was happening, yet they had treated him like he had never touched me a day in his life, told stories about him after he died, like he was some sort of god. But that man had been nothing more than a cruel bastard w
