Justice would mean I couldn’t have written this:

The hunter was tracking down his prey with stealth. Purposefullly yet without sound he moved quickly, covering the ground where the prey had been, almost smelling its fear.  With the confidence of victory already in him the hunter strode powerfully towards the hiding place The hunted creature was panting fast and shallow, making barely audible whimpers of fear. The creature was trapped and it could only be a short time before the hunter would catch up.
In the still accoustic of the warm summer night I heard the hunter strike. There were strange choking sounds and muffled thuds.

The hunter was my father and my mother was his prey. She had no hiding place.