I watched him for a while. He sat, legs outstretched and swinging beneath him, on a lone swing set in the corner of the park. His hulking frame seemed out of place amongst the neon rainbow of colours painting the playground.

I scraped my fingers through the loose curls in my hair. Now I knew what he’d done, my father seemed to haunt my every move. And there he was. As a little girl, I looked up to my fathers like he was the most loving and caring prince a princess could ever have. And now I know the truth; he is a liar, an assholes and a psycho.

In a sudden surge of anger, my feet propelled me forward and I walked over to him. He met my gaze almost immediately.

“Eloise! Didn’t expect to see you here,” his tone was sickly sweet, like a toffee stuck in your teeth.

“I know what you did.”

He paused, I could see the thoughts forming in his head.

“Ok! I confess. I ate the last biscuit in the tin.” He chuckled to himself, almost expecting me to laugh too. My frown creased harder.

“So what’s your motive, Dad? I mean all killers have a motive right?” I muttered sourly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, maybe it was the fact that Nora found your notebook where you keep track of all the money you’ve smuggled? Oh wait no, sorry, it was that Nora saw you cheating on Mum and you thought she would blab. Or maybe, just maybe Dad, you’re just a fucking psychopath.”

He stared at me, aghast. But I couldn’t stop now.

“And then you thought, what would really just make the experience that much more traumatic for my remaining daughter who I didn’t murder? Oh yeah! Lets stuff the body into her best friends truck and blame him.” The words spurted from my mouth like a volcano spewing out lava.

Silence.

1.. 2.. 3..

I half expected him to bolt straight away. But he stayed swinging, his face fixed in the same concerned, slightly confused frown. And then his forehead began to pucker. The wrinkled corners of his mouth began to squeeze to form a smirk. He rose slowly from his swing, towering tall above me. My mouth felt raw and dry and my hands began to uncontrollably shake by their sides.

“You really think that I didn’t see this coming? Wow, Eloise, you really do overestimate yourself…” he chuckled. “I’ve been waiting all this time, for the perfect opportunity. And now you’ve handed it to me! What a good girl,” he reached down to stroke my hair. I tried to move so he couldn’t touch me but before I could react, he swung his arm back and struck me across the cheek.

A dull pain gnawed at my face as I hunched over, groaning in agony. Clutching the wound, I staggered backwards. My vision tilted and turned as the playground danced around me. I could hardly make out my fathers face. Or the knife in his hand…