Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
—i was depressed enough. i was broken. it all happened when my "dad" started drinking. he'd come back home drunk, beat my sister and i up to the point where sitting down was a problem.
so, i ran away. when i came back, i saw my dad harassing her. i just couldn't control my anger. so, i took an empty bottle on the table, smashed it against a wall to break half of it, hoping he would notice me losing control.
he didn't.
i continued walking to him, punching his face, pushing him against the window afterwards.
anger took advantage of me, and i just stood there. staring at him with the hate that's been in me all of these years. so, i stabbed him.
with the broken bottle in my hands, i was mindless. i realized what i was doing when my sister screamed and pulled me back harshly, letting me see what i'd done.
the anger was gone, i was scared. i couldn't think straight, i lost the grope in my right hand, dropping the weapon.
at the point where my back touched the wall, limiting me, i dropped down. crying, screaming.
i killed my dad.
my sister ran out, leaving me with my dead dad. after hours of just sitting there, i thought my sister would call the cops on me, but seems like she didn't.
i got up, not giving up a glance at him. walking out with hands full of regret, i just sat down in a corner.
trying to calm myself, i washed down all the stained blood through my fingers. attempting to wash off the splattered blood on my dark t-shirt, i thought that i'd lost my mind. maybe i did.
i heard sirens. the police came, after all. i still had the hope to live though. i walked down the stairs, avoiding the police. they didn't notice.
it was dawn and i had no place to call home. i kept walking until i saw an empty pool, with a mattress in the center. i jumped down, sighing as i laid myself.
i had to bring my hand up to cover my face, which was burning because of the sunlight.
i turned to my left to avoid the heat. i brought my family's polaroid photo to my face, struck with guilt. well, it's in the past now. everything's the past.
i crumpled up the polaroid in my fragile hands before hearing footsteps. i thought police found me, but they were boys. all of them with curious minds.
the taller one with blond hair reached me. "what are you doing?" he asked, smiling. he grabbed my hand and pulled me up, not giving me the time to answer his question.
they all greeted me nicely, but i wondered how they'd react when i would tell them about what i'd done.
"—that's how it all began, how i met them, my only friends."
