Happiness. He had it. Every morning he'd face the world with a smile. He'd kiss his mom and dad goodbye, then go to kindergarten, where he made friends. Lots of them. They were all 5 years olds. They never judged you by your past or whatever happened to you at home. They just wanted to have fun. And for that, he was happy. Life at school compared to life at home was a break from hell. And though it was only for a few hours, he made the best of it. He'd run, and laugh, and play, enjoying each second like it was his last. But then, heaven's gate was closed, and hell's gate was reopened. He had no choice but to return home, though he never really wanted to.
There never went a day at home when he didn't cry. When his alcoholic father returned home from work, every single day, he'd cover the boy's face with a pillow, not allowing him to breathe until enough time had past. While beneath the pillow, he'd often hear his father call him 'nothing'. This broke his heart each and every time he heard it because everyone told him he had potential, and that one day he'd change the world. But the one person's opinion that really mattered was never encouraging. They always made him feel unwanted, which no 5 year old should ever have to feel, or even know how to feel. After the pillow was removed, he'd usually run in a corner, cry and try his best to catch back his breath before his father decided to continue, which most of the times he usually did. But when he didn't, father's anger was taken out on someone else.
He could've never been saved. His mother could'nt have done anything to save her baby. She was forced to be in the kitchen and cook while her baby boy was tortured in the bedroom. She heard the screams and cries for help, but did nothing. However, we can't blame her. She was usually beaten mercilessly at the hands of the father. That asshole was heartless. He knew how hard she was trying to get her son a good education so he'd have a better life than hers, but he didn't seem to give a fuck. He treated her like a prisoner. She was an animal in his eyes, and so was the son. They were both animals to him, hence they were treated as such. Though at times when he was sober, which was usually on mornings, he was a nice person. He drove his son to school, carried his bag for him, combed his hair, things a normal father would do. But every time the boy waved goodbye at him on mornings, he knew he was saying goodbye to the good side of his father, who wouldn't be around for hours.
Every once in a while after school, he'd be home with his mother and granny, who treated him the way he deserved to be treated. They spent quality time with him, asking him about his day and what he wanted to be when he grew up, in which the answer was always a veterinarian.
He loved animals. He always found some sort of comfort in them. When he'd sit outside and cry while listening to the blows being delivered from his father to his mother, his dog, Austin, would sit in front of him as though he was his guardian, protecting him from being hurt by that asshole. The main reason why he loved animals so much, was because one day, Austin turned around and licked off his tears, which melted his heart. It was then he realized that animals understood him, that one dog cared more about him in a few months than his father ever did in so many years. A dog wiped his tears, when his father would usually slap him and say "Stop being a pussy." It was as though his father was behaving the way a dog supposed to be, vicious and wild, while the dog was behaving as a father, protective and caring. After father was finished with the beating on mother, he'd come outside to 'deal' with the boy. On numerous occasions, Austin would growl at him which was his way of saying "back off!" Which worked most of the times, but sometimes father would kick the dog in his head, which made the boy cry more, because he felt the pain. He considered Austin his brother since he was an only child and he cared for Austin the same way he cared back. Also, if mother was down on the floor in the bedroom, usually passed out, and if the dog was being beaten, who was going to protect him after the dog was damaged? He was just 5 years old, arms similar to a matchstick, no self defense skills whatsoever. However, he never had to worry about protecting himself from his father. Austin never gave up. Austin stood there and received countless kicks, but never ran away, nor backed down. And the first night he saw Austin take a beating for him, he knew he had to give back the protection for animals someday, because he knew what it's like to be treated like shit, and they get treated like it everyday, and we all know they don't deserve that.
