ALL GOOD THINGS

Waking up from a medically induced coma was not even close to what I've seen in the movies. You don't suddenly wake up and be able to function or anything, and you most certainly won't wake up and go all hysterical.

The process of waking up from a medically induced coma was slow, gradual. You wake up, then fall back to sleep. Wake up again, this time a bit longer, then out cold again. Over and over again, until you are fully conscious. It's like a mental growth timeline being sped up or something.

By the time I was fully…err, functioning, it had been a couple of weeks since the fire. Yes, you heard right. There was a fire. It burned my home. My lungs were full of smoke, and my body had patches of second degree burns. Face was okay though, thankfully. Otherwise, the 'gift' from God will be wasted.

Yep, a fire. About a fortnight ago, a fire broke out as we were sleeping. It burned my home to ashes. Luckily, I woke up and managed to throw myself out through the window. Unfortunately, my dad did not make it. The smoke must've gotten to him first as he was sleeping. They said he died in his sleep.

That's the official story though. Based on the report by the sheriff office and the fire inspector. Even though it was just fabrication, it helped jog my memory on the night in question.

Yup it was a lie. My dad did not die in his sleep. He was killed. He was tortured. He was told to sign off the deed to the farm. He was about to, but I managed to slip past them, and took the…form thingies away from my dad. I went to the kitchen and burned the form. So, they said that since I like fire so much, they'd introduce me to a nice big flame.

They beat dad and me up. My dad got worse beating up than me. Probably because I'm a child, or probably because he made their work difficult. They said that it didn't matter. Once we're dead, the property will be theirs anyway. Which gave us a clue as to who the perpetrators actually are.

They tied us to our bed. Poured gas on top of us, and the entire home, and walked off like the hero, with fire blazing the home behind them. I must admit, that would've looked cool. If they weren't fucking scumbags.

So, that's the four one one on things. If you're telling me to report this to the authorities, then I got to tell ya, we're outta luck. That would be like putting my own neck at the base of the guillotine. Because the bad guys, were my fucking mom and the fucking mayor.

Anyway, the sheriff did come to see me a few days later. With the bad guys towed behind him. Folks, the bad guys were his fucking deputies! I am fucked if I reported the truth. Thankfully, I was prepared. I booted up the ELAR system a couple of nights ago, and learned acting. When they came, I put on an act of amnesia. Oh, I should've won an Oscar, if only I had the money to buy the award. Or buy the votes to get the Oscar.

Fuck me. My dad still died. At a much l earlier date as well. Fuck me. Now it actually IS my fucking fault. If I didn't make the farm successful, if we had just sold the farm, if we just moved to that mansion near the city like my mom wanted, dad would have lived another six years. Six more years for me to figure out how to save my dad.

I exhaled my breath, and sighed. It wouldn't matter anyway. As long as my mom was there, she would've broken my dad's heart. My dad would die just from that. Nothing gives a man a more painful death, than being his heart broken by someone he truly loves.

Ricky said that my mom was furious. When I was still unconscious, mom had tried to inherit the land, and wanted to sell it. Dad's lawyer said that land was already transferred to my name, with Ricky's given the conservator. My mom then tried to beg and forced Ricky to sell, but Ricky simply said that the land was not his to sell. Mom needed to ask for my permission.

Which she did. As soon as I woke up, mom came and begged me to sell the farm. Failing that, she tried being all mom like. Saying where should we live if we don't sell the farm, we don't have a home, we should sell it for my future. I simply said no. Exasperated, mom left. Just like that. Not once asking how am I doing. Which was fine. It sure did ease up on the guilt I'm having, for the revenge plan I'm concocting in my head.

The farm? Oh, the farm was fine. It was encircled by water. My grandpa built an extension of the river to flow around the farm area. The crops were all already harvested, so there's nothing to burn in the field. The livestock were fine. It will be ready for the butchers and the restaurants on demand.

The only thing that was not fine, was me. But it's okay, it's just wounds. Wounds heal. Scars remain. Hatred. Hatred is beating in my chest, coursing through my veins, sparks all over my brain.

I will kill you mom, for all good things come to an end. You ended mine. Time to end yours.

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Hello, my name is C Bucket. I'm writing to fulfill my life long dream of buying a bucket of KFC fried chicken.

Please subscribe to my Patreon Kase Aufstrich, and help me buy a bucket of fried chicken.

Thank you,

Sincerely,

C Bucket

Kase Aufstrich