I will kill my father. For what he has done to my mother. For what he has done to me. I will kill him. Thou shalt not kill? God kills hundreds while I bless my food. While I pray. Let God use me for one of these deaths. Why was my father born? Let his death return balance to my life. God will thank me. Am I resolved in this truth? I am resolved. Not elated. I feel no sense of joy. No satisfaction. No pride. It is too late for that. Too much pain. Too many insults to my body and my spirit. Too many tears. Too much ugliness. But now this inspiration comes to me, late but not too late, these quiet thoughts, this impulse to kill, to end it, to end him, to make things right, this idea, here, at last. I glow with it. I am filled with it. When he comes, it will end. It will all end. I will end it. Tonight? Please God yes. Tonight. I pray tonight. Soon. The moon is out. I will not pretend tonight. I will never pretend again. When the door opens and the light falls over me from the hall, let him see me, my expression, my spirit, my resolve, my determination, my anger, my rage, my wrath, my vengeance, let him see it on me, in me, set in me, in stone, in steel, for all time, written on my face, in my body, my brain, my soul, my guts, my boiling blood by God I will act, I will strike, I will kill this monster. Soon, yes soon. But now, now be still. Stop. Be calm. Be quiet. Breathe deep. Breathe. Breath in. Out. Feel your heart pounding, hammering, blood in your ears. Eyes swimming. Let the tears run. Breathe. Open your wet hands. Let your lips only touch, just touch each other. Close your eyes. Listen to the quiet, the silence in the house, the air whispering as your heart slows, feel the rasp of linen on your skin. Be alive. Know that you are alive. Now. Here. Pain cannot touch you now. You are whole, you belong to you, only you. Your resolve is armor and shield and weapon. Move your hands. Your fingers. Open your mouth and let the breath flow out, come in, flow out, like quiet surf. Lie still and drift in the night. Do not do this thing in anger. You do not need anger. Open the door within yourself. To act, to do this thing tonight, soon, opens that door. To do this is to leave a dark place, not enter one. To take one step and stand in light, a new life. To see the world changed forever. The monster gone. Dead. Buried away. By your hand. When he comes, tonight. In the first moment. If you pause, if you wait, if you allow one word to pass between you, you will not do it. That first instant. Do it then. You will hear his heavy breath, the breathing, and you will smell his odor. You will smell his stench. You will feel his heat. He draws near. You feel the closeness. The dark cloud, the evil, the devil, your hatred, your steel, and you will strike in that moment you will strike like a brute would strike like he would strike like God Himself would strike once twice pushing pushing forward not pulling back away but thrusting ahead jaw clenched thrusting thrusting in silence eyes squeezed shut driving forward with all your strength until you know that you are done that it is done that it is over no going back now anger burning in you an anger that blinds you. But know this, know this, know that if your anger does not shield you, if it abates, know that this act is not a switch, not a single click tick flip tap. Now alive now dead. Alive dead. No. Not this, but a process that yes is short but no will seem long so very long. The memory of this will not leave you. When the moment comes, when you have struck and now wait for the end, wait for it to be over please God, while you wait for all motion to cease, all sounds, those groans, that bubbling shuddering struggle to live, wait pleading for it to end, this is the time to look out at the moon again and to take in that slow and measured breath. Connect that breath to the moonlight. Breathe the moonlight into your heart. The other sounds have nothing to do with you. Those sounds belong to him. Let him own them. Let those sounds pass, let them cease by themselves. Find peace in this moment of greatest horror, breathe the peace in as moonlight. This moment, the most vital you will know, this moment when life ends, treasure it. When the moment passes, when it is done, Mother will try to come in. The door will be locked. The door is always locked. That is the first thing. Mother will not come in. The police will break the door and come in and Mother will try to look in, to see, but Father will be covered by then. You will cover him before she can see. She will see blood. She will see the sheets. Just a glimpse of them before the police pull her away. She will see you and the blood on you. But that is all she will see. It will be finished. You are close to that finish now. Will you reach it? Will sudden thoughts stop you before you act? Will this knowing, these expectations, this vision of blood stop you? Will it stop me? No. It will not stop me. Not if I do not think of it again. The locked door will stop Mother and the police will come and Father will be gone and that is all I want to know. Breathe in. I will not think, not think of before, of during, of after, not now, not again. The moon. Instead. Or if, or if perhaps the thought of blood and of Mother looking in weakens me, dissolves my strength, saps my will, deadens my spirit? If the thoughts are too much and overwhelm me? If I lack the strength after all to end his life, my father’s life? Then I will turn my anger against myself, like every time before. I will turn the anger inward but this time I will bring peace to this poor victim, peace by the steel but without the object, the cause, peace to this victim, now victim twice. With the moon in my eyes, I will bring eternal peace to this bed and this mind by my own hand and I will smile wide when I do it.