When the phone rang at midnight I knew he was dead.
When I picked up my suspicions were confirmed, my wretched father was finally dead,
but I had to go down to the coroner's office to confirm it was him who they had found outside a brothel with a single bullet wound in his skull.
As I drove down the dark streets of the suburbs I always hated I realized I was finally free of his tyranny, if only my wonderful mother had been so lucky.
When I arrived they brought me into a room where his body was covered by a white sheet. This was more than he had ever given me or poor my mother.
It was more respect then a creatine like him deserved.
As soon as the plain man who escorted me into the room lifted the sheet I deflated, I felt as if I had been wronged.
"It isn't him," I sneered, trying to keep my mask of indifference on. Turning from the room and beginning my walk back to my own personal hell.
On my drive back I realized if I didn't do something soon I was going to end up 6 feet under just like the man under the sheet and just like my poor mother.
Whether it would be her way out or another I didn't know yet.
Suddenly, I noticed something hidden under the weeds on the side of the road. It was impossible to discern what it was due to the blanket of darkness that enveloped the trash town.
Out of my car I went, slamming the door in my wake hoping to scare any animals that might be attracted to my beaming headlights. Instead of finding an animal I found a beast.
My own flesh and blood dead in the brush off of some dirt road in the middle of who knows where. All I felt was a wave certainty, I was free from my childhood monster.
I should have trusted my instincts.