Emotion

Rage.

I began to hate myself. There must have been something wrong with me. Everyone seemed to think so. My parents were now getting a divorce. I could not have cared less. Dear old Dad hurt me more in an attempt to deal woth his own emotions. Mom left me there. Then a few weeks later she came back to get me and my sister. My father flew into a fit of rage. He started hitting her, he'd never done that before. We kept a .22 riffle behind the door, as most people in this sleepy town did. I wouldn't let him hurt anyone else. I aimed at him. The rage clouded my vision with angry red clouds. I pulled the trigger and blew his knee out. Mom screamed. He dropped to the ground. My mom ran to her phone, sbe kept repeating herself saying I was not in trouble but we had to report it. She said it was self defense. What I did next.... was not. I used the riffle as a baseball bat and I started slamming it over and over into my father. Or so my mom said. I remember the fog lifting from my mind as my my mom hugged my blood splattered self. My father laid almost lifeless on the ground. Thankfully my sister had been down the road at the neighbors. She did not need to see this. I was going to be in major trouble.