One night a few years ago, I went into your room with a kitchen knife. I stood next to you for twenty minutes while you snored. The only thing that stopped me from plunging the knife into your chest was the fear of being caught, or worse, that I would miss and you’d survive.

If there was a way I wouldn’t be held responsible, I would kill you. I would look into your eyes as you wheezed out your last wretched breath, so you’d know it was me. Your darling little girl who never talks back and is always so docile and sweet because she learned not to make trouble from watching you beat and torment her mother into an early breakdown.

Your quiet daughter who learned to ignore the hunger pangs in her stomach while you ate like a king and screamed if she asked you for extra money so her and her mother wouldn’t have to skip meals.

Your good girl who grew up afraid to wear shorts or dresses because of how you looked at her in a way that made her lock her bedroom door every night.

So instead of killing you, I will just pray that you die painfully, slowly and alone. We’re poor and hungry while you’re rich and well fed anyway, so it won’t change anything with you dead. I will take comfort in the fact that your mistresses and your bastard children will be poor and hungry just like us.

I prayed for years to have my own money so we could finally get away from you. God didn’t answer my prayers.

Maybe for once He’ll listen to me and kill you so we don’t suffer anymore.

May you die screaming and burn eternally.

dear dmb readers,

i read a letter on here which i was 100% sure was directed towards me. the contents of the letter was about his feelings, like most of the letters on this site. is it bad that i really dont want to acknowledge that ive seen the letter or that it even exists in the first place?

a bad person