Till Death Do Us Part

2) The Beginning

Sometimes people make bad decisions that gets them into a bad place, but that is their fault so they should not complain about it. Other times though, people don't choose to make the decisions that get them to bad places. Sometimes their parents make it for them.
That's what happened to me.
The day I was born, my dad had already decided my 'fate' or whatever.
The day I was born, he decided that I would 'change the world.'
The day I was born, my father ruined my life.

***

I was never perfect.
When I was 4 I killed a toad with a stick. The guilt has never left me. I guess I've always been like that.

When I was 7 I saw a man get beaten up by three other men far bigger and stringer than him, and I realized far to soon that the world was terrible place, and that people did much worse things than killing frogs. I never wanted to be like that.

That wasn't really up to me to decide though, as mentioned early, my father decided my fate the day I was born. He raised me to fight for myself since before I could walk. And as soon as I was deemed trustworthy by him I was given a knife for protection, way before any child should be given a knife. That was life though, and I knew no different.

Only when I saw that fight, did I know weapons weren't only to protect.

I told him I would never use those things because they were used to hurt people who didn't need to be hurt. He yelled, he yelled and yelled. His point was proven, it wasn't my choice. So at the age of 11 and a half, I lost all respect for my father.

Soon after I lost any love and respect I had for my father, I lost the only parent who was ever good to me.

Crying at ones late mothers funeral is something no one ever wants to do, much less at almost 13. It was sad. Everyone said they were sorry for my loss, they said that she was perfect. She wasn't though, no one is perfect, people should remember her for who she was not for someone perfect. Even so, she was kind, my father was not. There were so many people, I hardly knew them all, but my father was not one of them. I guess he didn't care enough to show up.

He did show up later that night though, a drunken mess. Yelled, and yelled, and yelled. He claimed it was my fault she was gone, it wasn't. He claimed that I was a terrible person, I wasn't. I think he confused me for himself. I think he took out the anger he had for himself on me.

That whole day hurt me, emotionally as well as physically. He can't blame me for the bruises he left.

At the age of 16 I ran, but obviously not far enough.

Two weeks, five days, and seventeen hours later I was brought back to his house by a man I never had met.

They say home is where the heart is. So his house was no longer my home, not since she was taken. I don't feel comfortable there now, I don't feel comfortable anywhere.

I ran again, this time it was longer. One month, seventeen days, two and a half hours. He has eyes everywhere, they always find me.

I'm stuck.
I'm trapped.

They say home is where your heart is, but where is my home if my heart died with her?

***

I hope that chapter was ok. I've never written something like that, or been through anything close to that. I've only read of bad childhood experiences, so please, if something doesn't sound right, let me know.
I hope anyone who reads likes it.
Comment and vote please if you do, any reassurance makes me want to write more.
Thank you! xxx

***