I hated my dad. And I watched him burn in the fire.
Not with fear. Not with tears.
I just stood there.
My name’s Jonah, and this is my twisted story.
I grew up in a house of four kids. I was the only boy.
My sisters were soft spoken, always in pretty clothes, always getting what they wanted.
My dad? Mr. Gilb? He worshipped them.
Princessed them. Crowned them with every ounce of love I never got.
They got new toys every birthday. I got socks.
One pair. Every year.
My dad didn’t hit my sisters. Not once. But me?
He saw me as some cursed mirror of himself angry, repressed, raised to believe emotions were weakness. I hated being around him.
His breath stank of bitter beer and crushed dreams.
One time he made boiled potatoes for dinner. I wasn’t a fan, who the hell is?
I left half on my plate. He slapped me so hard I swore I heard dead birds singing.
Then he spat in my face. “Ungrateful pig,” he called me.
My sisters just sat there, perfect and polished with their forks untouched and their lips whining,
“Daddy, We want pig feet”
He looked at them like they were angels descending.
Then turned to me and said:
“Jonah. Go to the farm. Kill one.”
I was nine.
The pig bit me. Nearly took my whole hand.
My dad came to my rescue, but then said, “A man who doesn’t work, doesn’t eat.”
I didn’t even get a bite of the pig feet.
Just scars and a long sermon about how real men survive.
I started crying in the bathroom after that. A habit I never grew out of.
It was the only place no one could tell me to “man up.”
They say boys shouldn’t cry.
So I waited.
For years.
Waited for the day I’d be free.
Then came the season where all the leaves were dry and brown.
It was time to harvest our maize, my dad had a maize farm the size of a lake.
As usual, I woke up at dawn to get all the tools ready, while my sisters had their beauty sleep.
Thirty minutes to noon, we all set off to the farm.
I didn’t want to be close to my sisters or my dad, so I stayed far from them, harvesting maize alone.
Then I smelled smoke.
The sky turned pitch black, thick with it.
I felt the fire getting closer, eating up the maize and racing toward my direction.
I heard my sisters crying for help and my dad yelling out our names.
Then I remembered Miss Owline’s rice farm wasn’t far from ours.
I started running toward the rice fields,
but I kept hearing my dad calling me:
“Jonah! Jonah!!!”
My sisters were screaming their lungs out.
But I was confused. I was overwhelmed.
All I wanted was to leave the maize fire.
I kept running and running...
Until I tripped and fell flat on my nose.
My nose was bleeding.
I looked down and realized… I had tripped over my dad.
He was badly wounded.
His foot was caught in a bear trap.
We didn’t even own a bear trap.
He was coughing blood.
He had been stabbed in the stomach.
He looked at me, his eyes red and shaking, full of fear. Crying for help.
I started shaking too.
Everything around me felt blurry, like I was dreaming underwater.
Then he grabbed my leg and screamed:
“FOOL! Can’t you see I’m in pain? Jonah!!… Get me out of this fire!”
The fire was getting close. Fast.
Then I noticed, the farm tank was close to us.
And in that moment, I made a choice.
I kicked my dad’s hand off my leg.
I kicked it so hard, I swear I heard it break. 💔
He let out the loudest scream I’ve ever heard in my life.
But I kept running.
Then I fell... straight into a huge hole in the ground.
Seconds later, the tank exploded.
The fire blew up and spread everywhere.
I felt the heat of the flames rush above me.
I was still inside the hole, my
head down, hands covering my ears and face.
Then everything went blurry.
.....
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