My father

His limpid gaze and smile chilled my blood.

The kindly old man, once a ruthless being, had completely forgotten his dark past.

But I had not. I remembered every crime, every betrayal, every time his hands were stained with innocent blood.

I looked into those kind eyes and saw only those of the monster who had hurt me so much.

When he approached me with his arms outstretched in a fatherly embrace, I recoiled in terror.

That was not my father, my mind screamed.

He was an imposter, an empty shell inhabited by a façade of disgusting goodness.

I longed for the cruel despot of old.

At least then I could hate him without remorse.

This new twisted version of him sickened me, haunted me in my nightmares with his false goodness and clean look.

A good old man, they said.

I could only see the horror hidden behind that deceptive mask.