Why?
Why am I always the bad guy? Why am I always held responsible? Why do I have to be strong? Why do I have to care? Why does everything hurt? Why does no one care?
Why me?
My father hit me. I told myself I can't cry because that makes me weak. But I did. I cried and cried. And he hit me more.
My mother told me to be careful next time. To do what he wants. I nodded.
I punched the wall until my fists turned bright red. I can't anymore.
I don't want to live.
