The stranger who should have since died

. ...he used to beat her everyday, each day, he found a new reason to beat her. He enjoyed it, he simply loved it.

She was helpless, and I felt useless. I was of no use to her but I was only seven years old and could do nothing to help her other than to hide in a corner and cry while he beat the living hell out of her every single day as long as he was around.

I hated him, I wished he was not my father. Everytime he went away, I prayed he never returned but he kept returning home. For me, he djnwasvs, s ,, worst than a devil and I wondered why God would not kill him.

One night, he returned home drunk as always, I was never sure exactly why, but he started to beat her again. This time, I couldn't hold back, I couldn't just hide and cry while he beat her. And even though I was still crying, I tried to hold him so he doesn't beat her anymore but he threw me away.

I was hurt, and had bruises all over my body. he continued to beat her while I just watched and cried until I fell asleep.

The next morning, I almost couldn't recognize my mother, for indeed, hands were truly laid on her body, most especially her face. Mum couldn't talk for days and she was in pains.

I walked over to her and promised her that when I grow up, I would beat my wife as pay back to all the beatings she received from dad.

On hearing me say that, she was heart broken. She drew me close to her, held me tight and began to shed tears but never spoke a word. She couldn't say anything even if she wanted to.

Few days later, I remember, she told me that the only way I could truly revenge for her when I grow up and have a wife, was to treat my wife and kids exactly how I wanted my father to treat us.

Those words stuck. Everyday, I imagined having a father who loved and treated mum and I well.

shortly after I turned ten years of age, I went to live with my aunt in a different city. Even though he didn't approve of it, mum took me away regardless. He had stopped paying my school fees, and so, I couldn't go to school anymore.

My Aunt had asked that I was taken to her so I could start going to school again.

Before I turned twelve years of age, mum had called that he took ill and that it was serious. He wanted me to come back home so he could see me. But why would I want to go see a devil? I thought.

Everyone begged that I went to see him, but I refused. A few days later, mum called that he had passed away.

But I felt nothing, my heart would not let me shed a tear for a total stranger.

I was glad that he didn't succeed in killing my mother for me. He should have died a long time ago.