They say it is a power thing

So let me ask you something.
Do you feel powerful?
Did you feel power when you held her life in your hands?

When your fist smashed against her pretty little face that first time, did you get stronger?
What about the second and third?
When you punched your way past ten, did you feel like a god?
When her nose shattered was it a relief to your hand and wrist?
Was it like the crumple zones on a car that are built in to absorb shock?
Did she feel your power?
Did she have to?

As her blood poured out of her mouth, nose, cheeks and that terrible cut over her left eye did it feel warm on you? Did you cut your knuckles on the exposed bones of her face?
Did you get off on that?
Oh, of course not you saved that for later, didn’t you?

I’m sure the look of sheer terror coming from those blood-spattered baby blues was true bliss for you.
I bet you felt like a man. A powerful man.

You sub-human piece of s**t

How did you like the sound her rib made when you sank your foot so deep into her torso that you bruised internal organs? Time and time again. Seven total broken ribs, SEVEN! Did they all make that gruesome sound that only bones can make when they exceed their breaking point?

Few people get to hear air escaping from lungs when punctured by the same cage that is supposed to protect them; gasping and wheezing, coughing and choking on the same blood she counted on to keep her alive...I guess you should consider yourself privileged for having gotten this pleasure.

A near lifeless body lay at your feet begging you to stop. Pleading for this to be over, beaten beyond recognition, praying to the God she so truly believed in. Trying to defend herself with one good arm and one broken one but, the only God in Oklahoma that day was the one you were trying to build out of an insecure, embryonic, sociopath. Your need to feed the power shortage was too great so, you took the only thing she had left, her dignity.

Thrust after painful thrust tearing into her, ripping her apart. Tears and blood dripping; leaking, flowing, pooling up dissolving her soul one drop at a time. And you were still searching for “power”?

Did you find it when you turned her face down?
I’ve looked it up; there is nothing in the definition of sodomy that suggests it is a power giving act. And still you took that too. You took everything from her. Then you left her for dead, lying on the side of the road like a stray dog that wondered too far out on to the highway. Like she was nothing well, she was something...someone
She was a daughter
She was a wife
She was a mother
She was human
She was a friend

Burning in hell would be too good for you, then again, for there to be a hell one would have to believe in Heaven and therefore, God but, there is no God. Not the one I was raised to believe in, not the one you think you are, not the one she relied on to get her through this nightmare.

No God looking out for the six year old who will never again feel the love of a mothers embrace. No God for the teenage daughter who stood petrified as she looked in horror at the beaten, swollen, disfigured face of the one who gave her life.
No God to stop you from the carjacking you just couldn’t pass up.
Was it like the “Price Is Right” for you? You had to see what was hidden in purse # 1?
Or was it that you simply had to know what it was like to joy ride in a two year old Jeep Grand Cherokee?

Why didn’t you make her get out?
Why did it have to go like this?
Why did you need to feel so much power?

We bury her today and the many lives you changed will begin to rebuild. Though it may take some time for some to reconcile her fate; rest assured, she will live on in the hearts of her family and friends and you will still be the small, insignificant, irrelevant, parasite that you have always been.