I wished for him to die, and he did.
When I was 6, my parents divorced and my mom hooked up with a new guy. She had us move in with him after knowing him for a few months. Turns out he was an abusive piece of s***, but she didn't care because it meant she wasn't alone. He would scream at me, pull my hair, bend my fingers back, basically inflict pain without leaving bruises. My mom went back and forth of "should I leave him" and "I don't want to be alone". She unfortunately decided to marry him.
When I was 10, my "step father" had his brother to move in. That was when the abuse went from verbal and physical to sexual as well. His brother would come in my room at night to molest me.
I hated my life and I wanted myself and my stepfather to die. I would constantly daydream about the day I would finally be free of him. My step father started having health problems when 12, and had 3 heart attacks over the course of a few years.
When I was 16, my step father had a stroke at night and my mom called an ambulance. She asked me to stay in the room with him as she went outside to let the EMS in, and I stood there watching him leaning on the bed.
His words were hard to understand, but I could hear him repeatedly saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Something about his endless apologies made me feel irritated at that moment, and I just gave him the coldest stare I could muster. As my mom left with the EMS to the hospital, I assumed he would be back in a matter of days, like he did from the heart attacks.
He never came back. He died in that hospital after 3 days, and the last thing he said was that he was sorry.
I am often sick with guilt, I feel I was so cruel to him the night he had a stroke. I wished he would die, and he actually died. At the same time though, I feel so relieved, like a weight has been lifted. I don't have someone over me yelling how I'm worthless and pathetic. The mental fight I have everyday about how guilty I feel is overwhelming. I'm sorry I ever wished for his death.