Inside my home the smell is almost unbearable, booze, filth, puke, and fungus fill my nostrils as I make my way to my room. My mother lay on the floor past out drunk (again) my father stumbles towards me, he stops me dead in my tracks, beer in hand and puke on his chin. He grabs my shoulders shaking me vigorously, spilling his beer all over my favorite hoodie, screaming "You little faggot, where the hell have you been?!?" The smell of his breath makes me want to throw up myself, "Oh I'm sorry you asshole I was to busy burying your dead daughter, you know the one you basically killed with your drinking!!" I basically spit the words at him, he brings his hand back and strikes me, stinging my face leaving a blood red print on my cheek. It's not the first hit he's ever made but it will be his last.
I finally make it in my room and collapse on my bed, cheek still burning I cry myself to sleep, fifth day in a row(that's a new record). I wake only to hear a loud screams and groans in the hallway, I pick up the pistol that I kept under my pillow( if you lived in my house you would keep one their too) I slowly crept my way to the door, the handle burning in my hand as I turn it only to see my mother hunched over my father. She looks up holding his stomach in her hands, blood caked her face and flesh in her teeth, she just stared blankly up at me. She hastily got to her feet, stared at me for a while then charged at me, my first instinct was to shoot. My aim is quite well, the bullet hitting right between her eyes, she falls to the floor with a thud.
