Every ounce in me wants to make him bleed for forcing himself on my baby and for binding her like a slave and punishing her in such manner. Carefully, I pulled away, went back down, grabbed the empty bottle of wine, and headed back up.
My heart was pounding like a bass drum, nerves stretched to the breaking point. My blood froze. Fingers shaking and a bale in my throat, I turned the handle and jerked the door open, going straight to them on the bed. Before Uncle Philip could react, from behind I smashed the empty bottle against the back of his skull. He stared up at me with surprise in his eyes, his mind swirling; he brought his right hand to his head. In seconds, his hand was covered in blood.
"What have you…" he muttered in a trembling voice and fell like a puppet suddenly released of its strings. I watched, devoid of emotions, as moments after he became motionless, barely breathing at all.
