wouldn't have survived safely, but I will always wish that it hadn't come to that.
The girls had only been about nine years old when I saw that my father was looking at them in a really inappropriate way. I was scared shitless, disgusted and furious that on top of everything else he'd done, now he was eying up children. Damien and Spencer saw the way he looked at them too. We made sure that two of us were always with the girls whenever we were somewhere that our father could or would be.
That was the worst year of my life. But as bad as the fear was, finding out w hat a sick fuck he truly was made things a thousand times worse.
He was all fucked up on drugs, and it was getting worse by the day. I was just trying to get us through until I was eighteen so I could move out and taken them all with me. I planned every single day, my focus entirely on getting them all out. All of my plans for our escape came to a screeching halt when I found him in my sister's bedroom in the middle of the morning when I'd decided to bag on school so that I could get some sleep. Typically he was passed out in a drugged out stupor or at the Cross'.
Not that day. That morning, I saw him going into my sister's room as I was on my way to bed. I watched as he entered their closet, and I knew right away that whatever he was doing in there was bad.
I hid with my heart in my throat as I prayed to god that I was wrong. I waited for a few minutes after he left their room before I made my way in and went through the closet with a fine tooth comb. It didn't take me long to find the hidden wires, and within minutes I was pulling a panel up from the floor that had recording equipment in it. He'd been taping them.
The rage I felt in that moment almost ate me alive. We'd been sleeping in shifts for a fucking year to keep the girls safe, making sure to put a dresser in front of their bedroom door every night. They went nowhere that he could be without us. But for all that, he'd gotten his perverted kicks anyway.
I destroyed his recording equipment, smashing it until it was b asically dust. In the afternoon I ransacked his office; disassembling it piece by piece until I found his stash. There were dozens of videos, and he had boxes full of photos of the girls, naked, that he'd made from the videos. From the pictures I realized that he'd put cameras in their bathroom as well. I knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was going to touch them. Nothing we did was going to stop him. He'd made up his mind to do it, the pictures left no doubt of that. We'd thought we could keep him away, but that was all for nothing. He'd already violated them, and they didn't even know it.
But I did.
That was when I decided to kill him. I spent the entire day planning how I'd do it. I was going to strangle him while he was in a drug induced stupor, and then I'd call the police and turn myself in. I spent the hours after that taking out the recording equipment he'd hidden in the ceiling fan in their bathroom and going through his bedroom. I found more pictures of them in his bedside table, and the sickness I felt ate at me like a cancer. I burned every tape and picture I found.
When he showed up later that night, he figured out pretty quickly that someone was onto him. His office was destroyed, and his bedroom was no better. I hadn't tried to be conspicuous. I wanted him to know that I knew. I wanted him to fear what was coming. He'd violated the two people I loved the most, and that motherfucker was going to pay. I stood in the doorway and watched him as he frantically tore through his office. When he turned to look at the door, I gave him a look of pure rage.
"You're pur e fucking filth, and I turned you in, asshole. I called the police today, gave them all your sick fucking pictures. They'll be back in just a few hours to arrest you. You're going to jail Mike. We all know what they
The girls had only been about nine years old when I saw that my father was looking at them in a really inappropriate way. I was scared shitless, disgusted and furious that on top of everything else he'd done, now he was eying up children. Damien and Spencer saw the way he looked at them too. We made sure that two of us were always with the girls whenever we were somewhere that our father could or would be.
That was the worst year of my life. But as bad as the fear was, finding out w hat a sick fuck he truly was made things a thousand times worse.
He was all fucked up on drugs, and it was getting worse by the day. I was just trying to get us through until I was eighteen so I could move out and taken them all with me. I planned every single day, my focus entirely on getting them all out. All of my plans for our escape came to a screeching halt when I found him in my sister's bedroom in the middle of the morning when I'd decided to bag on school so that I could get some sleep. Typically he was passed out in a drugged out stupor or at the Cross'.
Not that day. That morning, I saw him going into my sister's room as I was on my way to bed. I watched as he entered their closet, and I knew right away that whatever he was doing in there was bad.
I hid with my heart in my throat as I prayed to god that I was wrong. I waited for a few minutes after he left their room before I made my way in and went through the closet with a fine tooth comb. It didn't take me long to find the hidden wires, and within minutes I was pulling a panel up from the floor that had recording equipment in it. He'd been taping them.
The rage I felt in that moment almost ate me alive. We'd been sleeping in shifts for a fucking year to keep the girls safe, making sure to put a dresser in front of their bedroom door every night. They went nowhere that he could be without us. But for all that, he'd gotten his perverted kicks anyway.
I destroyed his recording equipment, smashing it until it was b asically dust. In the afternoon I ransacked his office; disassembling it piece by piece until I found his stash. There were dozens of videos, and he had boxes full of photos of the girls, naked, that he'd made from the videos. From the pictures I realized that he'd put cameras in their bathroom as well. I knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was going to touch them. Nothing we did was going to stop him. He'd made up his mind to do it, the pictures left no doubt of that. We'd thought we could keep him away, but that was all for nothing. He'd already violated them, and they didn't even know it.
But I did.
That was when I decided to kill him. I spent the entire day planning how I'd do it. I was going to strangle him while he was in a drug induced stupor, and then I'd call the police and turn myself in. I spent the hours after that taking out the recording equipment he'd hidden in the ceiling fan in their bathroom and going through his bedroom. I found more pictures of them in his bedside table, and the sickness I felt ate at me like a cancer. I burned every tape and picture I found.
When he showed up later that night, he figured out pretty quickly that someone was onto him. His office was destroyed, and his bedroom was no better. I hadn't tried to be conspicuous. I wanted him to know that I knew. I wanted him to fear what was coming. He'd violated the two people I loved the most, and that motherfucker was going to pay. I stood in the doorway and watched him as he frantically tore through his office. When he turned to look at the door, I gave him a look of pure rage.
"You're pur e fucking filth, and I turned you in, asshole. I called the police today, gave them all your sick fucking pictures. They'll be back in just a few hours to arrest you. You're going to jail Mike. We all know what they
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