Married to My Fathers Killer

Mila pov

It was my birthday on that day, and yeah, I was finally able to get out of the house and get rid of my abusive drunk father and horrible stepmother. I am completely clueless regarding the circumstances surrounding their wedding. I was aware that my mother had moved out of the house because she despised him and could no longer stand to be in the same place as him.

Therefore, it appears that she did not grant him the divorce!

On the other hand, I didn't really care all that much about this. The only thing I wanted more than anything was to get away from my miserable life and start over somewhere else. I wanted to start a new chapter in my life.

I had every intention of completing my senior year of high school with the goal of using the money that my mother had set aside for my college education, along with the support of my grandmother.

And thank God my dad was completely unaware of the existence of those funds! Before she left us a very long time ago, she came into my room and asked me to forgive her for abandoning me with my abusive father. She then departed.

And if I'm being completely honest, I couldn't say I blamed her one bit. Even though she was sick and didn't have much time left to live, he continued to beat the life out of her even though she was in a terminal stage of her illness. Throughout the relationship, he subjected her to mental, emotional, and physical abuse.

I was under the impression that I was significantly more powerful than she was and could keep my balance while facing him. On the other hand, I was only dreaming. As if the fact that my mother had left him was what prompted him to change his attitude toward me, which was negative. I was his prey, yes.

Despite this, my mother has abandoned me, but a part of me has always wished that we could be reunited someday in the future, provided that she hasn't passed away by then.

For me, it was just another day, but it was exciting because I was finally going to turn 18 and be able to do whatever I wanted. After some consideration, I chose to get an early start on the school day.

Going to school was indeed preferable to staying at home and toiling away as a slave; however, working as a maid in my home was incomparably worse than going to school. My stepmother was terrible, but she was still preferable to my biological father. This is the single most upsetting aspect of the situation.

Time spent in school. Although repeating the same classes year after year was tedious, I worked hard to achieve the highest possible grades to increase my chances of being accepted to a prestigious college or receiving a scholarship. In the end, most of my mother's financial legacy did not come in the form of a large inheritance. It's not even a million bucks! And I looked for a part-time job to help me rent a room elsewhere if I couldn't find a vacant room in the dorm later.

I had everything planned out, especially for the moment when my father began oddly touching me.

I was able to deal with beating, but I couldn't wait for my father to rape me because I couldn't stand the thought of it.

I scoured the area for Helen, my best friend, who was beautiful but had the name of an elderly woman.

When we were together, I would make fun of her that way. Yes, because I had so much freedom at school, I engaged in many extracurricular activities and behaved like a complete loon. As opposed to when I was at home, I was not restrained by handcuffs, and my mouth was not covered.

After wishing me a happy birthday and continuing to make the most of our day, she informed me that it was finally time for me to experience hell.

"Mila, happy birthday... So, tell me, what exactly do you have planned for that day of miracles?" She came up behind me and put her arms around my shoulders.

"run away." I gave her a wink, and although we laughed about it together, she was clearly worried about me. She was well aware of the fact that my father was not a morally upstanding individual, which meant that he posed a threat to my life. When I was younger, I frequently went to school with scrapes, bruises, broken bones, and sprained legs and arms. Nobody came to my rescue when I was in a lot of pain. NO ONE.

At home, my father constantly blamed me for almost everything, and the reason he blamed me the most was that my mother had left him, so getting punched in the face was something that happened on a daily basis and was completely normal.

Because it was my birthday, and I couldn't allow him to ruin the day for me, I did everything in my power to leave school and get home as quickly as possible.

As soon as I walked through the house's front door, I noticed my father standing by it, looking at me in a menacing manner as if he had been anticipating my arrival.