• Mitali Biswas

Description

I could just barely see him hunched over the grimy countertop in the dimly lit bar, a beer mug tightly gripped in his hand. It's been 11 years since I last saw him, standing in a pool of blood over my mother's body, while I hid in the closet and watched.

"Been a long time, Dad.", I said softly as I slid onto the stool beside him. He turned, his pupils slowly dilating as he recognised his son's face. Next moment, I heard a grunt as stars flashed across my eyes and the sound of glass breaking rang in my ears. There was a sharp pain across my temple, warm blood trickling down my face as I lay on the ground, squinting at my father being held back by three people as he kept lunging towards me. 11 years in prison had changed him into something unrecognisable. "You shouldn't have snatched the knife away from me Dad." I thought. The police had found his fingerprints, and even if they didn't, who would ever believe that a 9-year old can stab his mother 17 times to death? I smiled and gave him a small wave as they dragged him into the police van. Again.