Bloody Hammers

#1

The night is cold as the tears fall from Timothy's eyes down to his knees dropping on the floor.

"I.. I can't take it anymore.. I want out!"

He whispers in his dark and eary room in a weak and scared voice. Nothing but a bed, desk with papers and some clothes in the flimsy old closet. A dusty pair of white curtains hardly covering the dirty window placed on top of the bed.

"Couldn't he be a better sun!?", his father yells out in the kitchen that's placed on the first floor, directly under his room.

"Harry! He is different! And you know that!!", the voice of his mother says in anger trying to defend her son.

"Don't tell me that! There is nothing wrong with him, he's just a simple disappointment! That's all that he is!"
The anger toned voices leap through the wooden plank boards of the floor in his room.
His parents arguing is nothing new to him. But it doesn't stop him from feeling like he doesn't belong.
Not in that house, not in that family, not in that town. Not even in that life. Timothy wraps his arms around himself and clutches his nails into his skin. His crimson blood starts to gush out from his elbow joints.

Tap
      Tap
           Tap
                Tap
He hears his father's shoes speedily walk up the crooked wooden stairs. The tears in his eyes started to feel like acid against his soft and pail skin. The footsteps get closer and louder to his room. He starts screaming in his head knowing the pain he is about to feel. Not only because he is a disappointment to his father. But also because he locked his bedroom door the moment his parents started arguing.

     Bang
          Bang

"Open up this door you little twirp!"
His father yells from out side the small bedroom with a rage of anger. Timothy's eyes widen in fear as he starts shaking. He knew a locked door isn't going to keep his father out the room. The next thing he knows is hearing a buckel from a leather black belt being loosened. All to fimiliar for him.

"Hey! Open up you son of a-"

Glass shatter.. His father went quite as he leans his head to the door losing more patience every passing second.

"You rat! Open this door or I'll make sure you won't ever step foot out this house again."

No answer from Timothy's side of the room. His father on the other hand wasn't having any second of it. Walking away in a rage of his own anger he throws the belt on the floor causing a loud clink sound and walks into the master bedroom. Going streight to the closet, he pulls out a riffle already loaded.

"That boy will learn!" His father says looking at the riffle in his hand with a over controlling voice.

He walks back to Timothy's bedroom door and knocks once more. He plasters a psychotic smile on his face and leans to the door.

"You have one more chance. Open this door Right Now Tim!"
He says with madness in his voice.
Still no answer. The house was dead silent for a good few seconds before his father aims at the handel of the door and shoots. He kicks the door open with his left foot and aims around the room until he saw a shattered window with the ripped curtains flowing from the outside wind.

He walks closer to the broken window looking down to the ground outside the house. Nothing but trees, dirt and leaves all around for miles. At least one good thing came out from living in the middle of the woods for Timothy.