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JONAS WAS LEANING AGAINST the kitchen island contemplating how long it would be before his father arrived. He surmised that since his father would be stopping by the police station, his wait was going to be a long one. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten today. He went to the fridge, opened it, and looked around. He took out two eggs. Scrambling them would be easy. He placed the eggs on the island and then went to the cupboard and retrieved a bowl. Above the island was a silver suspended pot rack. He reached up, pulled down a cast iron skillet and sat it next to the bowl on the counter. He picked up an egg and was about to crack it when his father walked in.
Terrence grinned at Jonas, “Son—”
Instant anger whipped around Jonas like the winds of a tornado spewing out the debris of his feelings. He carefully sat the egg back on the island, keeping an eye of disdain on his father. Jonas’ lip curled up in a sneer. “You’re a piece of work. You know that? How could you go on national TV and tell all those lies?” Jonas ran his palm down his face. “You know Rose’s father didn’t kidnap you. I’m ashamed that you’re my father. I hate you!”
Terrence’s mouth hung open. Gone was the flashy smile. His face contorted as if looking into hell. He was like a creature slithering up out of the murky waters of the black lagoon.
Jonas went on, not noticing his father’s expression. “Those girls were telling the truth. Rose told the truth. You’re a liar and a rapist.”
Terrence’s lips curled around his teeth wiping away his signature smile. “You’re always yelling at me, condemning me.” His menacing words were hollow and deep. “You keep coming back. Stay dead!”
“Who are you tal—”
Before Jonas knew what was happening his father’s hands were around his throat pressing his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe. He was clawing at his father’s fingers, trying to get air into his lungs. Terrence’s fingers squeezed tighter. His hands were enormous compared to Jonas’. And stronger. Jonas couldn’t budge his father’s grip. Dizziness began to set in. Next there was blurred vision, and then the yellow spots. Jonas swept the table behind him eagerly searching for a weapon. Anything that would loosen his father’s grip and reward him with a breath of air. His hand brushed an egg. It rolled around, fell off the counter and cracked on the floor. His knees were buckling. He feared he was going to die at his father’s hands. He could feel his life drifting away. His knees were too weak to hold him. His hand brushed the frying pan. He grasped it and swung. He heard a thud, but his father’s grip didn’t waver. He saw all the Blondies sitting in judgment of his father and Rose’s face as his father declared that her father had kidnapped him.
He concentrated on his rage and swung again. A sickening thud resounded in the kitchen. Jonas felt his father’s grip giving way. And then his father’s hold on his neck was gone. He heard a thump below him. Jonas fell to his knees as his hands wrapped around his neck. He was gasping and coughing, attempting to force air into his lungs.
Jonas’ vision cleared. A horror lay before him. His father stretched out on his back on the floor with blood oozing from his head forming a puddle. He reached out a finger and pushed his father’s shoulder. “Dad.” Terrence didn’t respond. He didn’t move. Panic set in. “Oh, shit... he’s dead.” Jonas reached up behind himself and got a hand on the counter. He pulled up to his feet. “I killed him.”