knives to the soul

chapter 1(prolouge)

Dark, damp and depressing. My father made sure my life was misery as soon as my gender was revealed. He would kick, punch and threaten me for my gender. Whereas in my eyes all I saw a drunken gang member who took it out on me about a chance that was pure luck.

Things were worse for my mother. Terrible, in fact. That beast of a man would strangle and beat down my mother psychologically and physically, even when she was pregnant with me. If she was out of line that creature would beat her until she was on her knees for forgiveness bleeding out on the floor and bruises from the neck to ankles.

He was disgusting.

After the rape, abuse and constant torcher, my mother committed suicide on June 5th 1919 when I was 10 years old. My father left me to the gang the day she died and ran off to find another one. A bullet through her head to end the suffering. All it took was one bullet through her head but a knife to the soul for me. I was weak, worthless and worried about my sad excuse for life but I trained and my ass off and climbed the ranks to second in command one of the top ranking, most dangerous gangs in the U.S.

Three years ago, our rival gang (the golden sacrament) attacked our base launching a full war that caused mass genocide in the NW side of Chicago and destruction of the landscape in other areas. Rival against the rival, in a fight to the death. Blood splattered, guts spilt, intestines ripped. A fight for domination against all other gangs. During this time, I saw many of my fellow colleges, that were around my age, that I considered friends. Slaughtered. Like sheep, they were lead into a trap and I learned that day that mercy was off the table and being passive would lead me to be like them. Dead.

Near to the end of this war, I had heard the signal that we had to fall back shortly after as our new leader was dying and needed to give us his will. So I fell back and retreated to the late leader's quarters. As I watched the last moments of out leader he said to me, "you are worthy to follow in my footsteps." then he breathed his final breath and went into eternal rest.

My father may have dominated my mother, but he will not dominate me.