Screams (prologue)
Screams are heard but nothing is done to prevent this harsh terror from occurring. I hear the evil chuckles of a black soul-less monster behind me, mocking me to step fourth and show him what I am made of. But I won't give in, I'll die either way. It is just how I choose to die now. Will I go painfully, or, well painfully is the only way here.
I'm 18 and I'm locked in a cage just like an animal, and the monster is my good for nothing father who believes when someone has done wrong, it is fine to torture them, and kill them if need be. I don't know why my father is as demented as he seems to be, but I've never known, and I don't care to find out. I just want to get out of here, something that seems next to impossible, being my father is 6'7 and 300 pounds. And me? I'm a mere 100 pounds and slowly fading away from starvation. Many thoughts of mine have become irrational, and I have viewed many hallucinations.
There was once that I saw my father as a troll, and then I closed my eyes and realized...he was a troll. He was trolling me, his wife, and himself showing us all how bad the decision to have a son really was. I will always be the child left, and forgotten. I will rot away, soon becoming dust in a clean society.
And no, I am not okay with that, but it seems at this point I have no say. It appears that I no longer have the will to live, or escape. I'm just done.
Before you call me out and say I'm weak for giving up, see it from my point of view. You are going along living a normal teenage life, and you have an ok relationship with your mother and father. You're happy; you're on the football team, you have a beautiful, smart girlfriend who would do anything for you, and you have a nice car to show off infront of your friends. And then something happens that changes all of that.
You go to a party and have a few bears. You're walking to your car later, when you realize you're being followed by two guys. They come up to you, saying you shouldn't drive home, because you've had too much to drink. And then, you take out your knife that you keep on you for safety reasons, and stab one of the guys. The other guys runs away. With multiple stab wounds, the guy is left to bleed to death, and you drive away.
A few days later you're finally caught red handed; the evidence being your fingerprints, and the knife you left on the ground. You're taken to the police station and made bail until your court date.
Then your father goes a little crazy, ok, a lot crazy. He screams at you for hours, and when he says "go to your room" he laughed when you started to walk up the stairs.
"What?" You ask, annoyed by his yelling, and now by his irritating laughter.
"You don't live upstairs anymore." He roars, smiling as he looks at your now shocked face.
"You live in a cage." He adds, simply adding to your astonishment and confusion. You're also terrified; how could he be so blunt?
You follow him down to the basement, and by the fourth stair, you're ready to bolt. You see the cage he was talking about; its metal, about 5 feet wide and five feet tall, and you're frozen now; afraid of going any further. You think about running, turn your head towards the door, but your father grabs your arms and pulls you down the rest of the steps; violently. You have now entered hell.
You're forcefully thrown into the cage, and your body hits the cement floor. "Slam!" You land right on your back, and stay there, afraid that if you move, he'll beat you. But what you don't know, is that you're in for a lot of that.
After a few minutes you finally build up the courage to ask your laughing father why he had done this.
"An eye for an eye." Was all he said. And that was all he needed to say.
You let it sink in and admit to yourself; he's going to kill you.
So do you now know what it's like to live how Im living right now? I've been here a few days now, locked in this small cage, and I've been beaten to just about a bloody pulp a few times. By my own FATHER!
Now are you going to mock me for "giving up"? This journal...it's my only source of happiness left. My father told me he wanted me to write in it, so he could reread my pain once he killed me. The evil of those words at first were astonishing, but soon, I was no longer surprised. He is the devil of my own private hell.
