My Life In Red

12

When I opened the door I was met with the Daredevil fighting someone in our living room. It was no wonder that he was going out to help people tonight, but fighting before he even left the house? That as strange even for his odd double life. I didn't shut the door so the attacker wouldn't hear me. I walked further in, grabbed the biggest bottle of cheap alcohol off the shelf and slammed it into their head. As soon as I did Matt let them fall to the ground with a loud thud, walking back to the chair. He sat and caught his breath.

"What happened?"

I said walking forward and nudging their head with my foot.

"I don't know. He broke in right before I started to leave. He was asking for you and the punisher. When I asked him why you would be with Frank castle he started screaming 'where, where' and swinging punches at me."

Suddenly I lost all access to air. Could this be it? I can't be found out, not yet. No I wouldn't let it be it.

"He wanted the punisher? I mean that's understandable I guess, but me? Why me?"

"Right it's not like you have any ties to him or anything."

"Yeah i mean I've never even met the man."

I stepped around the man on the ground and sat on the couch crossing one leg over the other. We sat in Silence for a moment.

"Hey Y/N."

"Yeah."

"How come you were so calm about hitting him. Your heart didn't even skip a beat."

"Look who I live with, I guess I'm just used to it by now."

He nodded once at me.

"I know your lying."

"Don't you always?"

"I try not to, ya know I'd like to think that I could trust you enough that you wouldn't lie to me."

"Alright. You want the truth? I've done it before. Almost the exact same thing that happened here, happened earlier in my life. It just wasn't a vigilante and an intruder."

I stood up and walked to the fridge to grab a beer.

"What do you mean?"

"When I was thirteen I came home to my parents going at it again. My mom had a track record for violence and was hitting my father, repeatedly, as hard as she could. Something raged in me like nothing I'd ever felt. I grabbed the full bottle of rum sitting on the counter and smashed it into the back of her skull."

I took a huge swig of the beer in my hand.

"When the bottle hit her it busted her head open. She bled out in the middle of the kitchen and all I could think was: Thank god, she wasn't there to hurt us any more. It was an ongoing thing. When the paramedics got there I didn't even care, anything could have happened to me and I wouldn't have felt any remorse."

Matt sat there in silence listening to me pour out my life story. He didn't seem fazed that I killed my own mother.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"For what? Killing your mom?"

I looked up at him and took another swig.

"No. I don't. You were protecting your dad. You were both in a situation that was fight or flight and you chose the higher ground."

"But I was thirteen! Most teens that age would think more than twice before slamming a bottle into the back of someone's head."

"Do you feel guilty?"

"What?"

"About killing you mom, do you feel guilty?"

I sat and stared at the floor. It was the first time anyone had asked me that, including myself. Maybe I was. It was always in the back of my mind but I knew what I did was the right thing. She abused us both for so long.

"I'm not sure"