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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1788460-Happy-endings
by Amber
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Drama · #1788460
A kid gets beat by his father
Pain, nothing but pain. I woke up in a hospital to the sound of voices “ His eyes there opening”. Let me tell you were the whole story started. I was 14 years old. It was two years ago. Saturday night. I had just woken up to the sound of sirens. I ran down stairs my dad was sitting at the table crying. I knew something was wrong my dad NEVER cries. I walked cautiously to the table and asked. “whats going on, why is there an ambulance here” he looked up at me his face streamed with tears. ” Blake, your mother....” he paused to let out a cry.”jumped off the roof and its all your fault!” his face changed from sadness to anger all in one sentence. I stared at him I wasn't sure if I heard him right “what? did you say it’s my fault?” “yes” he replied as he stood in front of me. “you had to get bad grades in EVERY class. YOU had to be out every night. You didn’t even realize that she was unhappy, you were to busy partying with your Emo freak friends.” he yelled, as he toward me, I was scared of him. My own father had a look of rage that I had never seen in his eyes. He raised his hand as if to apologize. I waited. SMACK my face stung I reached up to touch it and my fingers came back in red. My dad stared at me and told me to get out of his sight. I ran up the stairs down the hall way and took a left into my room. I slammed the door shut still in shock. How could he do that and after he blamed me for moms death. Maybe he was just upset. Yeah that was it. I don’t know when I fell asleep but the next day I woke up to the smell of bacon, I walked in to my bathroom and look at my face it was swollen and had a small scratch on it..... nothing serious. I walked down stairs into the kitchen where my dad was making breakfast. I sat down in the bright red stool. My dad smiled at me, “hey sport sorry about yesterday it won’t happen again. To prove that I made pancakes and bacon an absolute favorite”. Maybe it was just cause he was upset I thought, I mean everyone gets mad sometimes. Right?

***
< two years later>
It was late at night and I was opining the door slowly so my dad wouldn't hear me. If he did I knew what was in the future. I closed the door with a small squeak and walked over to the fluorescent green living room my mom picked out. I entered the small living room. My dad was sitting in his favorite arm chair. I froze in place as he stood up. I ran down to the basement, he followed yelling and screaming words I would prefer not to repeat. I hid under the same table where he found me every time. He grabbed me by the back of the shirt and pulled me out from under it. Kicks lots of kicks to my ribs, to my chest. Pain so much pain I let out a gasp as the last blow hit. He left the room and I just lay there in to much agony to move. I should have gotten used to it by now but every time I thought he would change. After a long while I stalked up to my room to examine my self in the mirror nothing on the face. I thought. As I lifted my arms to take of my shirt a bolt of pain shot through my body. I ignored it and continued to take it off. I looked at my skinny figure in the mirror in awe. bruises covered every where. My ribs, my chest, my stomach all mixed into one big purple and black mess. I lightly brushed and winced in pain. Anger and sadness began to swell inside me. I walked over to the shelf and spotted the knife, my old friend. I picked it up and held it close to my skin. I breathed and cut harder then I usally did. Into my skin down my arm, in the direction my blood flowed. Blood was pouring out of me now but I couldnt stop. deeper and deeper until.. …..I blanked out.
Pain so much pain. I woke up to voices “ his eyes are open” I looked around and asked “where am I? Is my dad here. :The DR replied your in a hospital you tried to kill yourself. I put wight on my left arm and it hurt alot i looked and saw a blood stained bandge on my arm “ whers my dad” I asked not that i really cared. “he whent to jail for child abuse” he said. “ I will be your new home” I looked at him and at last i could relaxe finally i knew i had a real home with someone who could treat me right. As for the cutting.... lets just say i got help.
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