DWP - cliffhanger prompt

In my mind, I have killed my father a thousand times. In many ways - shot him with his service revolver; through his heart at close range; another time, dead center between his eyes; stabbed his face and mutilated his body with Mother's expensive chef knife; placed a snooze around his neck and pulled it so tight I could hear his bones snap; drowned him in our backyard pool as he finished his sixth bottle of beer; buried him on the beach, his head sticking from the sand and watched his eyes bulge as he desperately undug himself when the tide came in. Yelling, begging, swearing.

He sleeps on the sofa, head facing the wall, mouth slightly open. He makes low gurgling noise. A large fly lands on his forehead and his hand moves to swat it. The fly falls on the carpet, not dead but its wings are askewed from its body. He opens his eyes, looks at me then smiles and closes them again.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, pookie," he mumbles still with his eyes closed.

"Daddy, what happens when you die?"

Silence, then the gurgling noise again.

"Will I go to jail if I kill you, Daddy?"

"No, pookie, you won't kill daddy, would you?" He turns to face me and when he sees my hand, his eyes bulge.

"Rowena!" he screams.