About two years from the time my father turned me away at his doorstep, I was at University and while I was busy browsing through Facebook I got a friend suggestion for Stanley Museta. It was my Dad. I clicked on it and started going through the pictures. That's where I saw pictures of Farai, his eldest daughter. I tried to check for her in the tags but I couldn't find her. She wasn't on Facebook. I began to search for her on every social media platform but I couldn't find her. It was as if she was a ghost. I became obsessive and searched for her high and low but I couldn't find her. It was only until about five years later when I was walking past some coffee shop in town that I saw a waitress serving someone on one of the tables outside, and she looked curiously familiar. I had to do a double-take but after that I was sure who it was. It was her! My missing half-sister. I could tell her face from anywhere. I had looked at the picture of my Dad and his family every day for the past five years and so I knew it was her.
That night I went home and so many thoughts flooded my mind about what I should do. She was the piece I needed to make my father pay for what he did to me. 'Should I kill her?' I thought. Should I kidnap her and make her Dad come and beg me to have her back? I just wasn't sure. I decided to go to the restaurant with a friend of mine to take a closer look at her. She wasn't beautiful but she wasn't ugly either. When I got there I started to flirt with her. 'Why don't I become her boyfriend and then go with her to meet her Dad? He would surely notice me then, wouldn't he?' I thought and chuckled a little inside. I wasn't serious about it. But then as I watched her walking with her notebook in hand I started entertaining the thought. Nothing would hurt my father more. I decided to do it. I spoke to her and told her that I would come and pick her up after her shift was done that day and sure enough I showed up. This was the beginning of my grand plan. In a few months we became friends and ultimately lovers.
At first it would make me feel sick that I was actually kissing my half-sister. But every time I felt sick I would remind myself of the ultimate objective: making my sorry excuse of a father pay. In the end though, I kind of forgot. I stopped feeling sick about it and in a way it turned me on. She was a kind of forbidden fruit that I got to eat every day and that feeling of doing something wrong was exhilarating; even exciting in a way.
It took two years before I finally proposed. It had to look real and so I took my time. I had waited five years for it anyway, hadn't i? On our wedding day, however, we almost hit a small bump. Everything was going well until she suddenly started crying at the altar. I couldn't understand it. I started fearing that maybe she had found out that we are actually siblings. 'What's wrong my love?' I asked her. 'My dad,' she replied. She was crying because she wanted her father to have been there. Our father. That was music to my ears! 'We'll go see him after this okay? I promise.' I said. Finally, my plan was coming together perfectly but I had one more trick up my sleeve.
'Let's have a baby,' I said to her after we got back from our honeymoon.
'What?' she said. 'Don't you want to wait?' she added.
'No honey. I think we should do it. I'm ready and I know you're going to be an awesome Mom,' I said in my most convincing voice. Two months later she called me from work and said, 'Guess what baby. I'm pregnant!' I was elated! This was the final piece I needed for the ultimate revenge.
All this planning and scheming finally led to today. I am trying hard not to crack a smile. My plan worked out perfectly. Even though it turned me into a disgusting man because I used my half-sister, I didn't care. I wanted my father to suffer, and this way he had suffered in a way that he could never take back. His bastard son had gotten married to his daughter, they were expecting a baby and it was all because of HIM. It was all because he was irresponsible and he didn't man up when he needed to.
It was pandemonium in that house. I stood there and looked at my father, weeping. I looked at his wife and she looked like she had seen a ghost. It felt satisfying. The satisfaction seemed to wash away the pain of twelve years and seven months ago. Farai then came back into the room, looking as sick as she probably felt. It was only then that a tinge of guilt began to creep in. Yes, I had used her but the truth is that over the years I had grown to love her. My quest for revenge had made me so single-minded that nothing else mattered. But looking at her made me think that maybe I had taken it too far. I looked at my father again, and then I felt that amazing feeling called satisfaction coursing through my veins again. No, I hadn't taken it too far. This was perfect.
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