CONTENT WARNING: strong language, emotional abuse, violent ideation. Reader discretion advised.
I told my grandmother all about what he'd done, about how I hated him and how I wanted him out of my life. She said she'd talk to him, talk she did, but in the end she did what she always had. Took his side. I thought seeing me cry would change that. It didn't.
My younger brother was there with me, and now, instead of her getting the point across, he will be told off by my father, too. This is the outcome. I fucking hate her and how manipulative she is. I wish I could use her and then ruin her life. If only I weren't as nice. But then again, sometimes you gotta do what you have. How to manipulate her and ruin her life for ruining mine and my mother's, that thought sits strongly in my head.
The other day, in a moment of weakness, I went to her, crying. I thought it'd help with how the current situation was. But I'd forgotten one key factor: she was the instigator. The one who'd started the fight. The one who always starts fights and enjoys them. She'd never thought of my mother, my siblings, or me as part of her family. It had always been her enjoying the drama and the attention.
My father had always verbally abused me, and I always knew that. He did the same to my mother. He's psychologically scarred me. I didn't tell this to anyone for fear of his reputation being soiled and of him being exposed. But she knows all this. He is his little pet, after all. She can never say he was wrong. And he will never say no to her.
I'd made a mistake, and it was time for me to pay the price. I shouldn't be disappointed — not really; she had always been a bitch. It was my fault. Now, I will kill their desire to live, just like they killed mine.
I'd given her a second chance, yet this is what she did with it. Now she will suffer too. I'm so mad my head feels like it's going to explode. I think I made a blunder talking back to her. She told me she'd talked to him, and he told her it was my fault he acted that way. She was taking his side despite all that I'd told her that day — even using religion to tell me to say sorry and to accept his abuse.
Well, sadly for her, I ain't religious. I ain't even practicing anymore, so that tool ain't gonna work on me. Still, I played her game, the one she liked, the religion one. It's a good thing I'd done my fair share of research on it back when I was a practicing person. Everyone had always used the religion card on me to make me feel bad whenever Father had done something wrong: to say sorry, to apologize, to forgive him because that's what God wanted. That is not what God wanted — that is what they wanted, and I'm no longer gonna fall for it.
I'm gonna go where I want now, and remove anyone who dares to come in my way. If hell is where I'm going, then I'll drag these fuckers there with me.