" Damien get in here now!" My father screamed. I jumped off of my bed and ran downstairs because I knew the longer I made him wait the worst it would be whatever it was this time.
" Yes dad." I said in a soft tone. He was sitting on the couch watching t.v with scotch in one hand and a belt in the other.
" I was driving by your school today and can you guess what I saw?" He asked in a bitter tone.
" No dad." I said.
" I saw you in a car with another guy." he said and I gulped. My father then turned off the t.v and looked at me. He had cold eyes. They were filled with rage. He stood up and walked over to me. I took a few steps back closer to the door if I have to leave for any reason. I stood there between my dad and the door. We were in a never ending staring contest, that I knew I wasn't going to win. The next instance my father punched me and I fell to the ground. He kept hitting me.
" Fagot. Unholy trash. I don't know how I gave birth to this demon!" He screamed and I just laid there crying taking the pain.
YOU ARE READING
Art Of War
Ficção AdolescenteThis story has many topics. Starting with People and suicide to painful endings with tragic story of four teens. Follow their journey live they lives and tell me would you pull the trigger. This book is now published the last few chapters have been...
