A Means to an End-part 4

“where were you?” Her father yelled before she could even get out of her car.

“I was at work. You knew that.”  She spoke quietly and calmly, but she should not have spoken at all.  It angered him for no apparent reason and he slapped her, knocking her against the car.

Taking a deep breath, Essie walked to the back door and entered the kitchen to find all the breakfast dishes still waiting for her to wash.  Joining them were the various dishes her father had used through the rest of the day.  Essie closed her eyes for a moment and reminded herself of her newly hatched plan.  It would work. She just knew it.  Essie went to her room and dropped her purse on her bed.  She normally would change her clothes but her father yelled from the back door that he was hungry..NOW, so she headed back to the kitchen to cook something. 

“Fry me some pork chops, you stupid bitch.” He growled at her.  As he normally did, her father sank into his chair at the table to watch her cook.  He would criticize all she did and complain about the food but he would also eat all of it. 

So Essie began frying the pork chops.  She boiled potatoes to mash them and heated canned peas.  She wanted to make a salad but her father would complain that she was trying to be “uppity”.  He thought no one should eat salad except rabbits.

As the pork chops fried, Essie made a pitcher of iced tea and poured her father a glass.  She began pouring a glass for herself when he attacked.  She was hit from behind knocking the nearly full pitcher to the floor where it shattered.  He grabbed a handful of her hair and put his mouth against her ear. 

“Did I tell you you could have anything?”  He punched her in the side taking the breath from her.  As her father went back to his chair, Essie fought to get her breath back.  That was when she felt the sudden snap inside.  She picked up the potholder and wrapped her hand around the handle of the skillet.  When she turned toward the table, her father held out his plate.  Essie allowed a slow, flat smile to cross her face just as she threw the pork chops and all the grease that fried them into her father’s face.

His scream reached through her very bones.  He fell to the floor holding his face in his hands.  He blindly reached out for her but she took two steps back.  Calmly and quietly, Essie raised the skillet, then brought it down with all her strength on the back of her father’s head. He fell to the floor, silent and still, blood flowing onto the cracked and peeling linoleum.

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