The final confrontation
I told my mother and father that perhaps they should confront the abuser, as I did, to release their anger. Upon reflection, my mother decided it was time to confront him, so I drove my parents to the hospital where he was a patient. I wasn’t planning on going in as I had already told him everything I had to say, but upon arrival I decided to confront that evil face one last time.
In the lift I could almost hear the thoughts swimming around in my parents’ brains, once again I felt an unknown power build up inside me. I was the first to emerge from the lift and as I walked out into the corridor there was an old, dying man sat alone in his pyjamas – it was the paedophile. My mother approached him and said, “You are a paedophile and criminal and you will burn in hell.” He tried shouting back but stayed silent when I told him to shut up- once again, I felt as though the roles had reversed. I had a flashback to all those years ago, strapped down to him naked with his hand cupping my mouth to keep me silent.
Snapping out of the flashback, I caught him saying, “I’ll call the carabinieri (police).” I replied, “They’re already here, outside!” He looked stunned so I continued; “You’re like a weak, scared, four year old child, and look at me, I’m strong now!” I said firmly while slapping my muscles. “Tremi (you’re shaking) eh!” I said, and he literally was.
I went up close to his face and said, “Say your prayers for penitence and forgiveness and maybe, just maybe you won’t go to hell.” As the nurses arrived, he piped up to try to gain sympathy, “I didn’t do anything to you,” he whimpered.
“Remember my face well because you’ll see it and all the other children you damaged when you go to hell.” I answered back. He was unable to walk and had to use a stick; he pointed it at me then uttered some rubbish. The nurse approached us, as I provoked him to hit me. “Violence solves nothing,” I said, “Don’t worry I wouldn’t waste my energy touching him.”
A nurse caressed his face and helped him up, “Yeah, look after him!” I shouted as they started to escort him away and I let him hear my final words, which were “Be prepared for hell because you’ll be there soon.”
Ironically, he died three weeks later…
In the lift I could almost hear the thoughts swimming around in my parents’ brains, once again I felt an unknown power build up inside me. I was the first to emerge from the lift and as I walked out into the corridor there was an old, dying man sat alone in his pyjamas – it was the paedophile. My mother approached him and said, “You are a paedophile and criminal and you will burn in hell.” He tried shouting back but stayed silent when I told him to shut up- once again, I felt as though the roles had reversed. I had a flashback to all those years ago, strapped down to him naked with his hand cupping my mouth to keep me silent.
Snapping out of the flashback, I caught him saying, “I’ll call the carabinieri (police).” I replied, “They’re already here, outside!” He looked stunned so I continued; “You’re like a weak, scared, four year old child, and look at me, I’m strong now!” I said firmly while slapping my muscles. “Tremi (you’re shaking) eh!” I said, and he literally was.
I went up close to his face and said, “Say your prayers for penitence and forgiveness and maybe, just maybe you won’t go to hell.” As the nurses arrived, he piped up to try to gain sympathy, “I didn’t do anything to you,” he whimpered.
“Remember my face well because you’ll see it and all the other children you damaged when you go to hell.” I answered back. He was unable to walk and had to use a stick; he pointed it at me then uttered some rubbish. The nurse approached us, as I provoked him to hit me. “Violence solves nothing,” I said, “Don’t worry I wouldn’t waste my energy touching him.”
A nurse caressed his face and helped him up, “Yeah, look after him!” I shouted as they started to escort him away and I let him hear my final words, which were “Be prepared for hell because you’ll be there soon.”
Ironically, he died three weeks later…
Wow! This is a powerful confrontation! I always wonder how people who have committed such evil do at the end of their lives. But, it's a moot point. When my mother dies, I will not be going to her bedside. What would be the point? My father may already be dead as the last I heard of him he had been homeless for quite some time.
ReplyDeleteI believe in compassion, but I do not believe in feeling sorry for these predators, even as they age and become infirm. I think that is part of what just perpetuates the abuse.
Thanks for having the courage to write this.
Thanks so much for your supportive message Marj. You're right, predators don't deserve sympathy.
ReplyDeleteIt was nice to receive a positive comment after a recent negative one from someone. But I won't let it get in my way and will only become stronger for it..