My wonderful life

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Pic of Jason^

Jason's pov

I sat in the green grass as the soft breeze blew through the air. My eyes were respectfully shut.

The time was quiet and sacred.

After a moment or so, I slowly opened my eyes and let out a soft sigh and looked down at the large grey stone.

"I miss you, mom", I said softly in a voice just above a whisper.

I gently placed the pink roses I'd gotten on her grave and stood up.

"Bye mom, I love you.", I said before standing there another moment then leaving.

My mom had died when I was 11. And thats when my life started going down hill.

My mom was murdered. And I know exactly who did it. My father.

What happened was my dad foud out a secret about my mom. She was a werewolf. And he'd hated werewolves. Thats why she tried to keep it a secret from him. But he soon started to suspect it.
And it was all my fault.

I wasn't a normal child. I healed too fast, my behavior wasn't normal for a regular child, I was far too strong, and so many other revealing things.

I made him suspect that somthing was up.

He soon searched untill he found out the truth about her. About us.

He suddenly grew bitter towards us. And their relationship slowly started to fall apart.

Finally, on that terrible day of July 12, the same day that I turned 11, my mom was murdered.

I can remember how it happened.

I was sent to my room by my father while he was arguing with my mom. I whent up stairs and sat on my bed, sad that I wasn't having the birthdat I'd hoped for. I then heard a hysterical cry, and a defining BANG!

My heart raced as I slowly made my way down the stairs, body trembling.

I could never forget the sight I'd seen.

Tears had filled my eyes as I stood there, looking at all the blood that was oozing from my mothers body. I let out a small wimper at the sight and fell to my knees.

There was a small click sound. I looked up to see my father pointing the gun directly at my face. I scrambled backward in to a corner as his hate fill expression was locked on me.

He was about to squeeze the trigger. He was going to end my life right then and there.

And an expression of realization crossed his face. If he had killed me then, there would be no doubt that all signs would point to him as the murder suspect.

He lowered the gun and spat a swear under his beath.

Soon after he mixed together different substances I couldn't identify, he made me were a plastic suit and clean up the blood while he went to go barry my moms body.

I was scared for a long time after that. I had assisted my moms murder. I was the reason she was dead in the first place.

It was all my falt.

My falt.

MY FALT.

"This is because of  you. You worthless piece of shit. You might as well have killed her yourself.", he told me.

Like I said. Down hill from there. He was hateful and abusive towards me after that and up to now.

I deserved it. I was nothing. I was useless. I am exactly what my dad says I am. A mutt.

I slowly walked up to my porch. I knew what was waiting for me when I'd walk in there.

I opened the door and tried to make my way to my room upstairs without being noticed. But I wasn't so lucky.

"Where the hell were you", his acid voice spat.

"I-I was out", I shakily responded.

"Out where!", he said getting closer and closer untill he was towering over me.

I was now shaking. Too intimidated to even speak.

His eyes had narrowed at me. He raised his arm and fiercely slapped me across the face. I could just see the handprint it's going to leave, followed by the bruise.

"Get your ass out of my sight", he said, his words seeping with hate.

I quickly cowered past him and scurred up stairs to my room.

I closed the door shut behind me and my legs gave way, making me fall to my knees on the floor.

Why did my father hate me so much?

No. He should hate me. I don't deserve to be loved. I'm such a worthless person.

I slowly walked over to a small dresser I had, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small thin silver blade.

I gently pulled up my sleeve, revealing many other cuts that had just begun to heal.

'Don't do this again, pup. Please. This won't help', my wolf, Sam, told me gently.

"Leave me alone. I don't deserve help.", I said weakly, ignoring him.

There was a light sting as the blade easily sliced open my skin. There was pain, but it was dull and distant.

The second cut was deeper, drawing a few small beads of blood, and the pain was more noticeable, but not so much as a tear slid down my face.

I needed this. I was weak, usless. The only thing I needed to feel was sadness. Misery. Pain.

That was all I needed. Untill I finally get the courage to decide to do what my father should have done years ago.

Kill my self.

__________________________

Whoah boy. Wasn't that something.

I hope you guys actually like this trash I made. Sorry if you dont like it. This is my first actual story I think im going to go through with.

Untill next time, Doodleheart out (*3*)!

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