It was at this point of the night, he often contemplated taking his own life. The burn of the bourbon coated his throat and slithered down to settle in his belly. Looking hopelessly at the vanishing bottle he could tell it was about 3:00 AM. His calloused hands picked nervously at a rip in his jeans. He felt the bile raise in his gut, and he choked back the sour taste as he lowered his head to rest on the counter.

He heard small footsteps make their way down the creaking staircase. “Daddy? Why are you still up?” a soft and innocent voice questioned him from the doorway.

“Eva.” The man groaned without lifting his head to meet her gaze.

“I couldn't sleep. I had a bad dream. Mommy was screaming, and when I woke up Lilly wasn't in her bed.” She walked over to him rubbing her eyes sleepily, letting out a little yawn.

“Go back to bed Eva.” His voice was stern and sounded disconnected.

“I can’t. Can you please tuck me in?”

“No.” He snarled.

The little girl looked up at him. Her face angelic and her eyes wide. She started to pout and then began to tug on her father’s shirt. “But you have to!” she whined. “I can’t go to bed by myself.”

The man observed his last bit of bourbon; he swirled the dark colored liquid in its glass. He downed it as his hands shook and the tears swelled in the back of his eyes. He looked down at her, his jaw clasped tightly. “Fine.” He grasped her wrist firmly and hurriedly led her out the back door of the kitchen.

The night air was wet and heavy, and even as the wind blew, it did not bring relief. The man and his daughter headed down the backside of the house towards the pastures.

“Where are we going, Daddy?” The little girl questioned. Her feet and pajamas becoming sullied by the soft earth beneath her. “My room is in the house.”

Without acknowledging her questions, the man marched on through the gate, and entered the woods on the far side of the property. His boots carried him swiftly along the well beaten path. The girl, uncomfortable with the grasp around her wrist, began to squirm and lean back against the weight of his pull. The man shot her an enraged look and secured his hold.

“Daddy, you’re hurting me.” The girl’s voice was weak and sheepish. Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes, “Daddy?” The pleading sound of her voice tonight was almost too much for him to bear.

In the solemn black of night, underneath the tall oaks, the man stopped and looked at the clearing before him. His body stiffened, his breath quickened, and his mind drifted.

How was it that he found himself here in this place? He was at peace once. He was a father and husband. He was a man. Wasn’t he? Or, was he a monstrous beast? A vile drunk who had lost track of time and the truth. Before he could let his mind wander further, a tug pulled at his arm. In the distance, he could hear the pleading and sobbing of her voice.

“Daddy, please let me go! Why are you doing this? Please st--” Her words broken by being hurled to the ground by the force of the man’s pull. “Please, no!” she screamed. But her cries fell on deaf ears, and the man pressed on towards the middle of the grassy clearing.

The man waded through the tall grass, dragging the wailing and floundering body of his little girl. He could feel the exhaustion setting in, and knew he had an ever-tightening window of time. Approaching the middle of the field, there was a shovel anchored into the ground. Spaced out evenly beside this marker lay three dreary graves. Though the graves were filled, the dirt it seemed had been previously disturbed. The man grabbed the shovel and flung the girl to the ground.

She lifted her head and in noticing the grave site began to cry louder and her voice cracked when she spoke. “Daddy, please I’ll be good. I-I won’t tell anyone. Please, believe me. I just want to go home to my bed. I want it to be how it used to be, with you and Mommy and Lilly. Daddy, why are you doing this? Why are you hurting us?”

“SHUT UP! You are not my daughter, you vile fucking thing!” The man’s voice rang out, and the anger and the force behind his words caused a stillness in the air. He continued, desperately shoveling the damp earth. The sweat on his forehead ran down his face to mix with his tears. In what seemed like a brief moment of relief he took in a deep breath. But from behind him he heard a low-rising cackle. It was the voice of the recurring plague that tormented him.

“Well, you are not a father, are you?” It chided him. The voice, so unnatural sounding, yet a cold smoothness to its tone. “This is the price you pay for your deeds. You are right, you are not her father...You are her BUTCHER!” The last words stabbed at the man, and he turned to face a demon that was clad in the skin of his daughter. No longer young and cherubic like, but a sinister mangled and decaying creature. Her pajamas dirt soaked and bloodied from the wound on top of her head. The left side of her face crushed and her eye missing from its socket. Puncture marks strewn over her body. It was a sight the man remembered well.

“You so enjoyed putting them in the ground,” the demon continued “so it would stand to reason that you enjoy reliving it just as much. Right?” The smile curling around the slits of its mouth. “Now who is really the vile fucking thing?” The demon let out another shrill cackle, grabbing its stomach and rolling back, kicking its legs wildly in the air.

The man looked on in disgust, but hard as he tried, he could not hold back the sob that had welled in his throat. He stopped his digging and rushed over to the demon. Standing above where the demon was still rolling in laughter, the man looked down and began ranting. “STOP IT! I will not do this anymore. I have paid my debts. I will not bury them, not one more fucking night. I’ll put a fucking bullet through my head before I do.” The man's voice broke and his legs grew weaker.

The demon’s laughter stopped abruptly and it rose to its feet. Devoid of any expression and with blackness filling its pupil the demon glared directly at the man, “I look forward to the day you do, coward. I hope you do not deprive me the pleasure of flaying your wretched skin for too long. Although, I do enjoy our nightly walks, it seems a shame to keep the inevitable at bay much longer.” A Cheshire like grin spread across the face of the demon, and the man’s knees buckled. He lay on the ground looking up at the disfigured shell of his youngest daughter. Her sweet voice, once again, returning to its vessel.

“Daddy are you going to tuck me in now?” The demon picked up the fallen shovel and handed it to the man. “Maybe tomorrow you can tuck Lilly in or spend some time with Mommy.” She smirked as the man winced from the pain of the words. The man compliantly took the shovel and began to cry silent tears.

Once again, he dug deep into the ground, he grabbed his daughter by her neck and threw her body into the earth once more. The demon, of course, took this time to remind the man of the writhing pain his daughter suffered at his hands. Kicking and screaming, the girl’s body bit at the man and cried out in agony. As he piled the dirt on her body, the demon spoke the last words his little girl managed to choke through her blood-filled airway as he laid her to rest the first time, “Da-ddy, I l lo-ve--”. The sun began to rise, the light splintered through the gnarled oak trees as he threw the last bit of dirt on her ashen blood-soaked face.

It was at this point in the early morning, he knew he could never take his own life. For just as back then, he feared the infernal nightmarish torment that awaited him. A bullet would not end his suffering, it would only bring forth the finality of his fate. He feared it far more than the murderous beast within himself.

So, with tears in his eyes he once again anchored the shovel in the ground, and headed back up through the woods to his home to sit, to drink, and to wait.