her eyes were beautiful and green. she stared, wide eyed, over her outstretched arms with  her hands spread in the universal sign of stop. her long brown hair fell in her face and whipped back and forth when she shook her head. my father stood above her, 6ft 5in and a burly man, with his leather belt in his hand. my dinner tasted good to me but he wasn't happy with it. the belt buckle had already left gashes in her arms and legs. he never hit her in the face. i stared at my chicken. she forgot how long the rice had been cooking and it burned a little. not too much to really notice, but he did and that was enough. why did she have to fuck up? goddamn stupid bitch. now he was beating the shit outta her like she deserves. he never spoke when disciplining my mother, he just hit. never in the face. that is why the make long sleeve shirts and pants. i finished my dinner and asked if i could be excused, but neither answered. silence. my fathers arm drew back and zipped forward. the belt buckle connected squarely on her back as sh ducked to miss it. the rhinestones of the buckle tore her shirt and i could see a constellation of old bruises and this new one developing. serves her right, she should be a better mother. over and over he hit her. her screams turned to weak moans then to soft whimpers. unconscious, finally! i always reflect on this one time,specifically, when my wife fucks up. i always follow this blueprint for success and it always works. except this time. as my own belt buckle came down my wife turned her face towards it and i connected fully. never in the face was my dad's rule. her lips split open and two teeth flew. her nose cocked in an awkward angle. oh shit! how am i gonna cover THAT up? no one would understand my reasoning. she laid motionless on our kitchen floor, bleeding onto the new slate tile i had laid just months previous. ungrateful bitch, how am i supposed to clean that up? did she do that on purpose?! stupid cunt! i delivered a swift kick to her face. my steel toe boot connected witha crack on the side of her head. what's the point in avoiding her face now? i kicked again and again and again. what was once my beautiful wifes face was now a bloody mash. i didn't check, but i'm pretty sure her breathing had stopped. good thing i stopped at Home Depot yesterday to pick up the yard trashbags or else i would't have anything to put her pieces in. disposing of her body will be easy, explaining to my mother that my wife left me for another man is gonna kill her. she really loved my wife and had alot in common with her.