The way i think

This is a fictional story written in 1st person. How could anyone do this o me, my dad, the drunk killed my mother in front of me while i was a child. This story tells how each of these things effect my characters life bringing him to be a real person off the paper (or in this case, screen)

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1. Mom and dad

Moma always put me in a closet to prevent me from seeing the darkness on the other side of the wall. She always told me stories about the heavenly gates after people die. How certain people get rejected because their soul is filled with too much evil. She always loved to use my fater of an example of that. Why the two of them got married i will never know.

My father was a drunk. He hated me and mom and i knew it. I always felt fears when his evil grey eyes looked into mine. I've met allot of bad people in my life, but not one of them was nearly as evil as dad. He never had time for me, even when i was little.

Always had something to say about everybody. "Damn niggers shouldn''t have a right in this world. Fat guys, always trying to eat us in to poverty." Never had anything nice to say in his entire life. He couldn't even show me the slightest bit of respect. Not once in my life did i here him say " Good boy, James. How was your day? Did you have fun at school?"

It was always "Get out of my way boy" and " Give me something to eat". But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was how he treated mom in front of me. I remember walking into the kitchen after school and he had a knife to her throat. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises and he just laughed. Laughed like it was a game, or a joke.

That was always the kind of evil mom tried to protect me from. I always dreaded coming home from school knowing how my dad was going to behave. Most of the time he was drunk, throwing chairs at walls or punching doors. Anything to scare mom.

Mom spent most of her time either working, making dinner or cowering in her room. I don't mean to call mom a coward ,but she could of at least told somebody rather than keeping all this darkness locked up inside her innocent soul.

I remember wishing i was older, that way i would be able to protect moma, maybe buy a gun and shoot the old bastard in the head for revenge. Most of the time i stayed in my room. I was a really antisocial child. Mainly because i was isolated in school because i was always the guy to bully the girls.

I repeated things that I heard from my father, words i now understand and am glad I learnt what they meant when i was younger so they wouldn't effect others as bad as they would when I was older. I called them things like "Bitches, retards, whores, sluts and the pieces of shit they can't even afford"

We were a poor family, which is probably why my dad had developped such a drinking problem. The worst day of my life was when i was 13 years old. Dad called me into the kitchen and mom always told me to do as he says or he'd hurt me worse than he hurt her.

He had a knife in moms mouth. He told me that if a woman ever fucks with me this is how I should treat them. He pressed the lips againds her tounge so tha it cut right through. I kept trying to look away but he kept yelling at me to watch.

I listened to my moms screams as i let that sick basterd cut out her tongue, laughing. Then her fingers, i screamed as hard as i could and someone must have heard because all i remember is the police running into the house and him ending up with a bullet through his brain.

I can't remember much of my childhood but i remember someone telling me that my mom had killed herself because of this incident. And from that day i had to go live with granny.

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