𝐼𝐼 𝐵𝑒𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝓈 • Joshler ⭐️ COMPLETED II

⭐️ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ⭐️

January, 5, 2001.

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Tyler was only 13 when he killed his first person.
It was a rainy day. It was around 12 AM. And his father had just gotten home from god knows where. His father was drunk. He was like that almost every day. He stumbled into the house whenever he felt the need too, and would demand Tyler and his mother do things, that he could do for himself.
His father had been through a lot after Tyler was born. He was drafted into war, when he was only in his early thirties. And was never home until he turned 36. Tyler's mother had missed him dearly, and invited him back into their home.
But she was unaware that the war had changed her husband, and he was no longer the way she remembered him.
He was violent, and began to have an alcohol problem. And he felt that he was an amazing driver, and would be fine if he drove under the influence.
But truth be told, he couldn't really handle his alcohol very well.
Not only was he a terrible driver when intoxicated, but he was also abusive. He would throw Tyler and his mother around whenever he didn't get what he wanted. His mother never left though. She was too afraid, and in the back of her mind she still had hope that her husband was still in there somewhere.
Even after all the ways he would hurt her, hit her, burn her, she still stuck around and obeyed his every word.
Not only was she abused but molested as well. And every time she would get pregnant, Tyler's father would beat her until she wasn't pregnant anymore.
The worse part is, Tyler's father thought all of this was amusing.
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2:17
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Tyler's dad drank so much, he passed out. His mother, fell asleep soon after. Tired of all the things he made her do that day, she was happy to finally rest. Tyler on the other hand, was restless. And angry.
He was tired of the bruising on his and his mothers bodies. He was tired of the broken beer bottles and champagne bottles, lying around as if it were a junk yard.
He was tired of his dad feeling like he was king of the world.
So he did what he felt was right.
No, Tyler didn't call the cops.
He took care of it himself.
⭐️
Tyler grabbed his father's gun, that he used in war. Wrapped his hand firmly around it. And placed his pointer finger on the trigger. He abruptly jabbed the tip of the gun towards his fathers head. Amazingly, Tyler didn't have any hesitation on his face. Or confusion. He was smart, and he knew what he was about to do. And he knew it would get messy.

When his father felt the jab of the gun against his head, he woke up.

"What the hell?" He said, then saw the gun pointed at his head.

"Tyler, put it down."

"Tyler! Now! Give it to me!"

"Don't make me fuck you up, boy!"

Tyler grinned. He knew for sure that his dad knew he was screwed.

"Burn in hell," Tyler said.

Then, he pulled the trigger.