"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  You make me happy when skies are gray.  You'll never know dear, how much I love you.  Please don't take my sunshine away."

            How can he sing to me?  After what he's done, how does that make it alright?  He's holding me.  Why is he holding me?  How can being held by the most disgusting thing in the world make everything alright?  I can smell the alcohol on his breath when he makes me stay so close.  Damn it!  Why is he singing?  I need to get away from this.  I'll just get dressed and run.  I don't care where.  I just need to run and not stop.  If he tries to kill me let him.  I'll just get up and go. 

            Lorna slipped away from her father's grasp, grabbed her clothes and ran into their filthy kitchen.  She had to get away from him.  She just had to.

            "Where do you think you're going?" yelled Martin as he staggered down the hallway after his daughter.  "Answer me!  Where the fuck are you going?"

            "The hell away from you!" screeched Lorna back at the man supposed to be her father.  Her mother abandoned them, and he forced her to fulfill her wifely duties in her absence.

            "You little slut!" yelled Martin more angrily and then slapped her.  "Going off to fuck another one of those little shits, huh?"

            "No, I've never screwed anyone and you know it.  Why else would I have bled when you started?" said Lorna looking directly into Martin's eyes coldly, moving back towards the kitchen sink to grab an unwashed knife.

            "It's not like you didn't enjoy it.  You screamed.  Don't pretend you didn't," said Martin as his drunken state became even more evident as he moved closer to his daughter.

            "Not because I enjoyed it."

            "You screamed just now, back in the bedroom where you belong," smirked Martin with his sick, sinister grin.

            "That's the last time I'll scream because of you!"

            "Like hell it will," said Martin leaning in to kiss Lorna, and not in a fatherly way.  He never kissed her in a fatherly way.  Never.

            Lorna grabbed the knife and stuck it in Martin before he could violate her again and he fell to the dirt-covered linoleum floor.  He was obviously going to die soon and just stay there, but that didn't stop her.  She kept stabbing.  She wanted him to feel real pain.  She wanted him to bleed, bleed like the way she did all those times because of him. 

            When he stopped moving and trying to resist her blows, Lorna straightened herself out as she stood up and put the knife back in the sink.  She wiped the blood off of her hands and washed the dishes.  Not in a frantic matter and she didn't cry.  She just washed the dishes with a blank expression on her face. 

After she finished the dishes, she looked back at the bloody heap on the floor.  She walked over and looked down on him with the same blank, but slightly cold stare, she had while doing the dishes.

Shit.  What am I going to do with him?  I hope there's room in that basement closet.

She grabbed him by the feet and dragged him down the basement stairs with one arm and carried a bottle of bleach she got from under the kitchen sink with the other.  Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet, so he was just limp and lifeless.  Behind him he left a trail of blood and his head clanged against the steps.

Lorna dropped his feet without any consideration of where they landed and pushed open the closet with her foot.  She delicately put the bleach on the steps and went back to the closet.  She snatched all the old clothes and threw them aside, making sure there was room and she carefully put the mop and bucket on the steps.  She proceeded to put Martin's body in the spacious closet and shut the door.  Then she mopped up the blood all over the floor with water and the bleach.  The floor was clean to her satisfaction, so, bloody clothes and all, she got into her own bed, the one she wouldn't have to share with her father anymore.  Her own bed.  Without him and all to herself.

Finally, a decent night's sleep without having to worry about him getting turned on by my pajamas.