My father was an abusive motherfucker. He would come home late at night drunk. He would beat my mother up every fucking night. To the point where she was bleeding. And because of that, I didn't get to live a very normal life.
But when I think about it, my life wouldn't be what it is now. Sometimes a little blood pumping is good for you. You know?
One day, my father comes home like usual. Late. Drunk. I was 16 years old by then. I couldn't handle the screams of my mother every fucking night. So what I did was something even for me it was cold. I took a fork, and stabbed him in the back.
"Argh! You son of a bitch!" My dad yelled at me as he charged to me with his hands in position to choke me. I kept my cool and avoided him smoothly. He was too drunk too realize I was out of there.
I kicked his ass and he fell to the ground. "You listen here, you wouldn't exist if it wasn't for me!" He yelled at me. I stood there silent with my hand clenched. "Why so quiet? Cat got your tongue?" He continued. I walked away without saying anything. He ran to me and tried to pick a fight with me.
I pushed his hand and strangled him. My hand became red. "H..ot, so... ho..t" he murmured. I was shocked. So was everyone else. "What are you?" My mom asked. I let go of him and he was having an asthma attack. I went to my room. Pack up my stuff and left. Leaving a note on top of the table without saying anything.
I plugged in my earphones and my parents has never seen me ever since.
