I'm really sorry, OP. This was my childhood, too. At 4 he beat me so severely that he stripped the skin off my backside. At 12, I discovered he hated me and I couldn't understand what I'd done wrong. At 15, he slammed my head down a door and gave me concussion, and at 17 he told me I deserved to be raped because I was a slut. There's other stuff which is so dark that even now I don't really want to think about it.
That monster who was my sperm donor - he is unworthy of the name 'father' - stole my childhood. It was one of the most painful questions of my life as to why my mother stayed with him - there were various reasons she believed that to be in our best interests - but she was utterly, grievously wrong. When we discussed this in my adulthood she acknowledged this, was genuinely remorseful, and we laid it all to rest before her early death. I'm glad we did. I adored her, I know it was mutual, and we never lost each other. But she fucked up, hugely so, and it has been a very difficult reality to confront.
As for my father, I don't think I ever wished him dead on any conscious level, although I did ask myself how I'd feel if he died, having cut him out of my adult life as soon as I left home. I foresaw that I'd never have any regrets about that decision. I didn't. I wasn't exactly celebrating, but I never felt one moment of grief nor shed so much as a tear.
No one who hasn't experienced a past with an abusive parent could truly understand. Know that it was him, not you. You deserved so much better, and the way you feel now is entirely his fault, not yours. You were not to blame then, and you're not now.
💐