Poetic justice
He said I didn't have to tell anyone, and I was planning to hold him to that.
"Yuck! Yuck! Yuck! Slimy old man!" - I repeated, as I bathed and scrubbed my neck compulsively, remembering how his tongue brushed against it. He took my dismissive reaction very badly.
Although on cold thought, I don't know if it's worth exposing him, after all, he's going with her or without her, there's no place for him here anymore.
Dad tried to open Susan's eyes to him, because he's really just a bastard who knew how to seduce her.
She seemed to have understood that he is not a good man, but now that our father has died, it seems that he has gained ground and is convincing her to stay here in our house, but she does not know that dad, to avoid his tricks, he put the house in my name and left her without material goods that could interest him, what I arrange for her well-being and not his.
With his twisted autumn pose, he believes that every woman should fall melted at his feet, but the seams of his disguise are increasingly evident.
The once that were still left were crawling up his neck. A moment before, he appeared at Dad's grave, where we were accompanied by relatives who could not come on the day of the funeral. He settled down between my sister and me, in his best role as a saddened son-in-law, and suddenly, he began to shake himself in despair, ran out among the graves as if fleeing from a ghost, and then came back saying that some strange insects he got stung him.
What a good coincidence! Only he was bothered by the insects and I thought, laughing to myself, "Poetic justice".
I think my sister caught him bothering the youngest of my father's nieces and, as always, he tried to play the victim, the badly thought out ones are the others, he just tries to be attentive, he said.
Sometimes I think he is a sick man of the mind, a mythomaniac, and I cannot assimilate how my sister, so pretty and young, let herself be fooled by that old man, who does not deceive anyone, because the noble title, the smile and the tan are false.
Leaves are falling, it's time to make a change, especially inside me. I can no longer live a thriller, where the bad guy gets sick and you don't know if it's a ruse or his imminent death that changes the game and makes me appear as the evil, manipulative witch within the story.
I feel that I have made my soul sick. That I have become my own nemesis by concentrating my energies on getting rid of this gentleman who, perhaps, did not even deserve my attention, but challenged me.
My sister needs support and I have given it to her, up to a point. Just the thought that Christmas is coming and he is still here, poisoned me, not anymore.
It seems that his illness is true, although I doubted it. The sting of those strange insects seems to have left sequelae in his liver that have gradually decomposed him to the point of putting him to bed.
According to the results, the doctor said that the toxicity of some insect venom can be lethal to humans who already have liver damage. I just wanted him away, as far away from me and my sister as possible. Now, he is dying and I feel sorry for him and for her.
10/10/2020
In response to
3-Part Weekend Freewrite - 10/10/2020- Each message is highlighted in bold
