Hello NoSleep! Let's get right to it, huh?
Recently I've managed to acquire myself a boyfriend, and he's an angel. He treats me well, we get along perfectly, and my parents adore him. I'm desperately in love with his personality, his beautiful sea green eyes, his curly hair, his everything. We've been going strong for almost 4 months, but it seems like a lifetime. I'd do anything short of murdering my own parents for him, and I know he'd do the same for me. Let's call him Nate, yeah? I'm not about to expose his identity to the world or anything, so we'll settle for Nate.
Lately though, his dead beat of a father, let's say his name is Pat, has been attempting to contact him. Now usually I'm an advocate for rebuilding broken relationships between parents and their children, but I don't want him near my boyfriend. When my boyfriend was younger (ages 0-12, basically), his father used to verbally and physically abuse him, his mother, and his brothers. I'm talking beaten bloody, told he's worthless, and kicked around like it's nothing and now he's popped out of the blue to torment my sweetheart and his lovely family.
To be quite honest when Nate told me how hard his dad, Pat, was trying to contact him I got nervous. Understandably so, in my opinion! Pat is a drunk, weight-lifting crackhead with a history of brutal violence, so why wouldn't I be a bit apprehensive for how this whole fiasco is gonna turn out?
Apparently Pat has been calling both of Nate's brothers, James and Beck, relentlessly and is filing a lawsuit against Nate's mom (Kara) for being a "bad mother", which is bullshit! She's done everything for her boys, and there's no way in hell that the lawsuit will go anywhere, but it's still obnoxious to have to watch Nate go through all this stress. See, James and Beck are out of high school so they wouldn't be affected by a custody battle, but Nate and I are still in high school. And while Nate is old enough to decide who he wants to live with, it would still fuck with him, I'm sure.
There was an incident a few weeks ago, though, that sort of changed everything. Nate texted me at about midnight while I was watching a movie with my mom.
Babe my dad just called me and threatened me can I come over please I know it's late but I'm home alone and I'm freaked out
What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't immediately says yes? I explain the situation to my mom and we immediately drive to his house, picking him up and bringing him back to our house.
As Nate and I lay in my room downstairs, his phone rings. He looks at it nervously. "It's my dad," he says softly, and I motion for him to answer it.
"Put it on speaker phone," I request, and he does.
"Nate?" A deep, crackling voice says through the speakers.
"What do you want?" He asks, voice barely shaking.
"Aw, is little Nate scared? Well, you'd better get the fuck over it. Once my lawyer indicts your bitch of a mother for malpractice parenting you're going to come live with me and it'll be just like the old days." His voice sounds amused, and I furrow my eyebrows as Nate hangs up and tosses his phone across my bed.
I pull his head to my chest, wrapping my arms around him. He hugs my waist and we stay there for a long time, until I can feel his heart slow and his breathing even out. I drag his phone closer to me with my foot, grabbing it and unlocking it.
He'd texted his mom to tell her his dad called and that he was spending the night with me, and she'd replied with an "okay, i love you. be safe." so I didn't bother to reply. I delete the call history, and grab my iPod to do some light Facebook stalking.
I type in Pat's name and immediately find his account, and I'm delighted to find it's a public account so I can see everything he posts. A lot of it is bullshit about how he misses his sons, some is pictures of cats, and the rest is stuff about his business a few towns over. I google the town he resides in, and find that it's only 35 minutes from my house.
Twenty minutes of searching later and I have his business phone, home phone, and his address all written down in my personal notebook. From his feed I note that he doesn't have any friends in the state, and he gets home from work around 5 in the evening usually, and leaves at about 6 in the morning. I delete all my history and tuck away my notebook, turning off the lights and snuggling next to my boyfriend.
I just want to talk to him, I think to myself, Just a short conversation, maybe I'll threaten him a bit or something.
I start my journey to my boyfriend's dad's house, playing my music softly as I take the highway to the town. I park in a secluded area about five minutes from his actual address, putting my gloves on, getting out and thanking the Heavens that all the house lights seem to be off. That'll happen at 2 in the morning in a small town, though, I suppose. I start my trek, walking carefully in the boots that are two sizes too big for me that my dad bought for my brother four years ago but were never, ever worn. I take a route behind a bunch of house, covered by the treeline.
When I get to Pat's house, I check the back door to see if it's unlocked and it is, so I open it and slip in soundlessly. My hair is tied up and covered completely by a hat, I don gloves and clothes that conceal every inch of skin. I open his refrigerator and grab a bottle of Bacardi that he'd posted about on Facebook two nights ago. I saunter into Pat's bedroom.
There's already an empty bottle of whiskey next to him, so he's pretty clearly passed the fuck out. I set the Bacardi on the table and go into his bathroom, opening the cabinet. Lots of pain medication, perfect.
I bring about three bottles of various pills into the room and get to work dumping them into Pat's open mouth. I then pour in some Bacardi and smack him across the face to get him to rouse. When he does I cover his lips with my hand, leaning away from his line of vision and he instinctively tries to swallow what's in his mouth. It's made easier by the alcohol. He panics, obviously, but his half-drunk, groggy mind isn't at its best and so when he's swallowed everything that's blocking his airway he relaxes and sort of drifts off again.
This is all going well. I had, of course, brought a knife in case my initial plan went to shit and I needed to slit his wrists or something, but this was all working out fine.
I sit on the floor and get comfortable, watching Pat sleep peacefully. That is, until he starts snoring and gurgling. I smile, watching as he vomits in his own mouth and begins to choke. I get up and hold his head so he can't spit the puke out and I stare down at his twitching, ugly body.
Eventually it stops and so does his breathing. I grin brightly and release his head, letting it fall to the side and get to work placing the Bacardi bottle and pill bottles in his hand for fingerprints and then letting them fall the the ground, carefully avoiding the puddle from the alcohol and the broken glass.
I go home, leaving everything in its place.
When I return I take off the clothes and gloves and return them to their rightful places in my home, putting the shoes back in the garage as quietly as possible. I go back downstairs into my room and toss the gloves into the corner of my closet where they had been before I took them out.
Last week, Nate's family got the news that Pat had committed suicide. I got to watch as reluctant relief spread across Nate and his family's faces and I knew that what I had done was merely me putting a stop to their pain.
I love my boyfriend; I would do anything for him. I know this story makes me seem like a fucking psycho, but you don't understand what it's like to see a person you love break down in front of you while they tell you about how their father would mercilessly beat them when they asked for dinner.
I just wish I could have made him suffer like he made my angel of a boyfriend suffer.
Submitted June 17, 2016 at 03:38AM by astrapophobic http://ift.tt/266mWyz nosleep
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