Like I said I have always had this thought of what I was going to do to my father when next I see him but when I eventually saw him, I couldn’t believe my eyes, for a moment I was shocked and dumfounded, until I heard that his bass voice saying “can I have a bucket of chicken to go please?” 

To be honest I didn’t know I had that strength to comport myself the way I did, the thought running in my head was to lock his shirt until he apologies for what he did to us but I just gave him his order without saying a word. 

Few seconds after he steped out of the eatery I ran after him and by the time I got outside, I saw him drove off but I was able to catch his plate number. I told my therapist what I wanted to do and she said I did the right thing by not causing a scene, she said it shows I have more self-control though I feel it was indecision on my part because in between locking his shirt and making him beg, I also felt like breaking something on is head though what I did in the end was far worst. 

Before I took out my frustration and anger on him I saw him twice after that very first day, the third time I saw him, he came into the eatery with his new family, two boys, a girl and his wife. Seeing the kids and his wife looking all happy and full of smiles triggered something in me that I didn’t know I had. 

The amount of hatred that grew in me that day is one I don’t ever wish for again. I literally almost spat in their ice cream if not for one of my coworker who caught me and stopped me. He took me to the kitchen and asked why I wanted to poison a customer. I told him the customer his my father and I told him how he abandon me and my mother and how that has led me to where I am though I didn’t tell him everything about myself but I painted my father in the worst possible way I could.   

By the time we got back to the eatery they were about to take their leave, I told my coworker to cover for me as I stylishly followed them out and traced them back to their house.  If you hear adding fuel to the fire that was what happened next, as I see the large mansion wey him and he family dey live, my heart break, my anger went from 0 to 100%. Once again at that point when I thought of  making a scene I could hear my therapist voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t  because I am better than that, her voice was like that of an angel preventing you from doing that bad thing while my mind was, the devil, shouting BURN DOWN THE HOUSE SON.  This was my exact thought as I watched my dad and his new family walk into their house, I was touched and for the first time I left Festac.

I remembered my mum, not that I have forgotten about her, I very much think about her but that was the day I wished I could see her in person and talk to her. For two years I didn’t speak to my mum, I needed to be sure if I was ready, so as always I  spoke with my therapist about it and she told me how to go about it but let get back to how I killed my father, I will return to the part at which I  met my mum after two years.                                             

After I discovered where my father was living, I will go there every two weeks even though I didn’t know why I was going but I still go, when I told my therapist she said maybe I was looking for closure, she suggested that I should gather the courage to talk to him or if I want she could help me reach out to him but I wasn’t just ready so I just quit going there.  Two days ago I woke up with only one thought and that was to kill my father,not just him but his entire family, lord forgive because I did.