Into The Eyes of a Killer [COMPLETED]

Entry 1 (August 20, 2012)

     Why is there such thing called a "family"? How can I even say it? Because that means nothing to me. All they are are strangers. Strangers with the same blood (I got that from a good book I read). You still need to introduce yourself, figure out who they are, and find out if they truly love you. My best friend can love me. Does that mean he/she is truly family? My so called "family" could hate my guts. They could hurt me physically and/or mentally. So could my enemy. So what's the point? The whole thing is complete nonsense to make us feel safer with them. You never know who you could trust in that house. Speaking of which, why do I have to share the same house with them? They don't care about me at all! They treat me unfairly, they never listen to a thing I say because I am a stupid little child that doesn't ever know what he is ever talking about they always say. Just shut up, Jake! They don't care if I am in pain. Only if I was at least alive. They could break my bones and not suffer any consequences at all. Good thing I know how to get revenge. The first thing I did after one of my beatings to take out the pain of what I was feeling was trying to beat the fluff out of a bully at school. It felt good to do that to someone else. To take off some of the hate growing inside of my body, like a filled to the brim bathtub being emptied. When my mother found out, she locked me in the basement and starved me for three days straight, though. During those couple of days, my dad came in and beat me about every twelve hours. It was one of the worst punishments I got from them. I guess that meant that I was no good. That I should wish I would never have been born. That I am the worst human being in all of eternity. At least that is what my parents keep telling me. Now I am starting to think that. I have never told anyone that I am an abused child because of three reasons. One: I have no one to tell. I mean who would want to be friends with a person who injured one of his classmates? I am very quiet in class as it is. I don't even think any people even know of my existence other than the few curious kids and their sideways glances at me every once in awhile. Two: My parents would just beat me even more when they found out. I get enough of it already, do I seriously need to add to it? Three: Who would ever believe me? My parents make sure all the bruises don't show or have healed before I go to school. If they hadn't, I wouldn't go. None of my teachers believe a word I say in class anyway. Why would they now? Maybe I should run away and be a street kid. I could pick pockets and steal from other people in the dark to make a living. I would never have another broken bone from my parents doing again. No. I have to stay. One day I will regret leaving and not knowing exactly how to get back at my stupid parents. As long as the pain is at least a little bearable, I will stay. Can I even tolerate it again? I felt some hope a long time ago, so maybe I can try to feel it again. I mean, how can I break after I have been broken?