Finding Happiness

04 | Flashback

"MARCUS!!"

"MARCUS!"

I looked around me in the darkness of my small cupboard. I could see nothing but a handful of clothes. This would not be enough to hide me. Tears dripped down my face, stinging my eyes. I could only hope. The loud stomps were getting ever closer. I could smell the foul breath closing in on me.

"Marcus, I know you're here somewhere,"

I held my breath and tensed, I hear the hand searching through the cupboard next to me.

"I weren't hurt you,"

Do something!!

I don't know what to do. I was starting to panic. I started to hyperventilate.

"Marcus I am your father, come out right now or I will beat you to a bloody pulp!!"

I had no defence. The hand now reached into my cupboard and grabbed me by the neck. My father pulled me out of the cupboard and threw me onto the ground.

"There you are you little shit," he said with pleasure in his eyes.

I was going to die. Tears streaked down my face. I stared at the ground in shock.

"Come on, get up," he ordered.

"Come on!"

He kicked me in the ribs. Crunching sounds.

That can't be good

Sharp jabs of pain spread through out my body, increasing with every passing second. I slowly got up onto my knees. My father in front of me with a baseball bat in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. I was going to die. He grabbed me by arm and dragged me towards the kitchen.

I searched around to find some sort of defence.

In horror I found my own mother lying on the kitchen floor, her body bloodied. This can't be real, this can't be happening. I stared at her. My mother was dead. It could not be real. I kept denying it. My vision blurred, I wiped the tears off on the side my ripped shirt. She could not be dead. I looked closely and saw her chest steadily rising and dropping.

She was alive. Thank god.

She's okay, now get a weapon to defend yourself!

I desperately searched around me to find something, anything to defend myself with. There it was, a steak knife lying on kitchen floor.

"Look at me Marcus!" My father screamed at me.

He took another gulp of his vodka.

"This is what happens when you disobey your father," he spitting on my mothers body.

I quickly glanced back at the steak knife, barely out of reach.

"You have such a pretty face Marcus, just like your mother's. Shame it won't look the same when I'm done with it," he announced.

His foot me struck me hard in the face.

My vision reduced to just shapes and outlines of objects.

I was dazed. I couldn't think straight.

Get the knife!

I scrabbled to get to it. My fathers step foots close behind me. Within reach now I desperately lunged for it. I could now feel it in my hands.

Without thinking I stood up and plunged the knife into my drunken father's neck.

Blood sprayed.

I could only see blackness.