The Prettiest Eyes Cry The Most Tears
The-One-You-Forget
  • Reads 16
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
  • Reads 16
  • Votes 3
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
The-One-You-Forget
Ongoing, First published May 06, 2016
I was 9 years old when my Father left home.

I remember him throwing plates at the wall, the terrifying screams of my mum's cry for help, the blood spluttered on the kitchen tiles and the shatters of broken glass shards. I can remember poking my head around my mum's bedroom door and seeing her crying silently sat on at the edge of the wooden bed holding her scar marked wrist. I remember watching her as tears rolled down her face as she stuck a needle in her arm; I remember hearing screams of my Father yelling hurtful words as he takes huge gulps of beer. I remember it all too well. I was only 7 but I knew that their relationship wouldn't last. I went online to find help, but there wasn't any. Every day at school I'd imagine him grabbing the large knife and just slitting her neck watching her die in pain. What was going on at home scarred me and the petrifying shrieks stay hidden in my brain.
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