My mother had a boyfriend when I was a child. He abused me. Mostly mentally. I hated him. As a child I would fantasize about growing up, getting muscles and beating him up. (I also had a sick love for seeing his body that he showed to me often and inappropriately) After I grew up and wanted to confront him, I found out he had died. My first reaction was. Oh well. Then sad. I felt bad that he wasted his life being a mean person. I never was able to confrint him, and his behavior and doings still haunt my memory