Looking Back...

LOOKING BACK………

Surrounded by four grey walls, I lay here on my concrete bed and I think …….Why? Did he deserve it? Am I really the monster that I was portrayed to be?
My name is Katherine Pierce. I am 25 years old and I have been sentenced to 10 years imprisonment for the murder of the man I once called …..my dad.

The birth of any child into a family is a joyous occasion. And yes, my entry into this world was a dream come true for my parents. As a baby, I have fond memories of being cradled by the gentle touch of my mother’s arms, always showered with love and affection. I vaguely remember sharing this relationship with my dad for he was seldom at home. But on those rare occasions, when we were together as a family, it was never the utopian dream I hoped for. What remains vivid in my memory are those numerous occasions, when he would come home from work and rant and rave at my mom for the most trivial reasons. She was the constant target for this verbal abuse and never did she show any signs of retaliation. My father was accorded the utmost respect by both of us and he took advantage of this as he knew that we were totally dependent on him as he was the sole breadwinner.

There was no way that anyone could reason with him when he was in this frame of mind. What baffled me the most was the façade he put on when we were around friends and family. He appeared to be the perfect gentleman …..always so kind, energetic, high spirited, full of laughter and generally fun to be around with. Yet behind closed doors he was an uncontrollable freak! I often wanted to expose his demonic nature but I was terrified of the consequences thereof.

One of the most horrifying incidents etched in my mind was the night he pushed my mum out of the vehicle, into a deserted road. We were on our way from a family get-to-gether and all my mum wanted to know was why was he in so much of a hurry to leave when we both were keen to stay longer. That was enough for his temper to flare. He immediately stopped the vehicle, swore at us, slapped my mum repeatedly and finally dragged her out. He then drove home without any remorse for his actions.
My poor mum walked home that night in with all that pain and agony.
My hatred for this man intensified as the days went by and deep down I knew that something disastrous was bound to happen.

29 June 2008, is the day I’ll always remember …. the last straw. My father wobbled into the house towards the early hours of the morning. He awoke my mum and ordered her to get him something to eat. As always she responded immediately but this time she was in for a surprise. She looked at him as he spoke and then the red lipstick on his collar caught her glare. With anger penetrating from her voice, she questioned him about it. That was enough! He kicked her to the ground, beat her up until she was defenceless and thereafter bolted to the kitchen…….grabbed a knife…….and in one stroke, planted it to her chest. I stood at the corner of the stairway and watched with bated breath as her life ebbed away. I suddenly felt the surge of adrenalin through my blood vessels, my body temperature rose and with a deep sense of vengeance I rushed to the safe, removed his gun and pulled the trigger as he moved up the stairs. I just could not let this man live any longer....

Today, I sit here and recall these horrific moments that has brought me to these cells. Do I regret what I’ve done ….. definitely not! My mum was my light, my saviour and my only hope…… Maybe one day someone will hear my side of the story and hopefully I will be set free again.