I could hear the TV blaring through the hallway. Its weird how she over works herself. Then again if I had to listen to my father every single day, I would probably never come home either!
I walked down the hallway into the living room, and saw that my father had fallen asleep in his chair. The stench of booze was emanating from his body and infesting my lungs.
I didn't want to wake him, so I walked into the kitchen quietly.
Maybe she is running late at making dinner. I thought to myself, while rummaging through the fridge for something to eat.
I concluded that my mother was still asleep and made myself another sandwich. This time I used some of the left over chicken from the night before, which I figured would suffice for dinner. Instead of eating at the table I wrapped it in a paper towel and headed for my room. I didn’t want to chance an encounter with my old man.
I sat on the bed thinking about my life as I ate the sandwich. I stared at the wall, thinking about my father always being filled with alcohol and hitting me just for fun. I hated my father because of how he treated my mom, whom I cared about as much as I was able to care about someone.
I never get the urge to hug either of them anymore. I blame my father for the way I am; for ever being born, and he blames me for the way his life has turned out.
I used to always be sad. I would cry myself to sleep every night asking myself why my dad hated me. One day I realized I could just quit caring about what happened in my life. Ever since that day I have not cried because of hurtful words. I don’t wonder, or even care, if my father hates me.
“A man who hates kids should never have them.” I said to myself without realizing I was speaking out loud.
I had watched Kevin and his father a lot through the fence and wondered why my father wasn’t like Kevin’s dad. I used to imagine that we could switch fathers. Kevin would come to school covered in bruises and have a few broken ribs. That always put a smile on my face; then Kevin would smile and hug his father, and totally ruin it!
It all seems strange to me. I know that I am not like normal kids my age; most kids my age have friends and join sports teams to occupy their time. While I just sit alone and get lost in my books.
My mother hugs me more then I would like, and it has always made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t remember my father ever trying to hug me in all the years I have known him.
I have always wondered why my father despises me the way that he does. I can't help but wonder why, but I don't care either way. I don't have to know anymore.
Tomorrow I will turn 13 years old I am not sure how I feel about living another day. My mother has always tried to make sure I have a good day, and she always attempts to make me smile.
I always pretend to be happy for her sake on my birthday, even though I didn't understand the concept of happiness until I killed my first animal.
I remember it like it was yesterday and I still have the pictures hidden away. I put them in an old shoebox, and stuck it in my closet.
I have at least ten pictures! I thought happily to myself.
I was sure not to let my mom find them when she was cleaning my room, which she did weekly. I sat them on the top shelf because she wouldn’t clean it very often. She cleaned it last week, so I knew they would be safe for now anyway.
I need to think of a better hiding place. I told myself silently.
When I finished my dinner I tossed the paper towel in the trash can next to my desk. I hurriedly took a shower and dressed for bed.
I decided to go and check on my mom, it was not like her to sleep all day.
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