Category : Adult

Sub Category : Horror

                 Chapter 1
     If you had to have to fight for something, what would it be? What is the cause for? What's your reason? My reason is simple. I need love.
    Sometimes when my father hit me, I said to myself, what could I do to make this pain go away? My question still remains unanswered. But what helped me get through it, was the thought of my mother. My mother was a drunk. She would hit me harder, while my father would be a bit more gentle. He still is. Ever since my mother died, I have been at peace with the world. Even though I am still hit, I can now rest with less scars on my back. 
     My nightmares get worse every day. The stench of the urin covered ground, where I sleep, helps me go to bed. Why, you ask? Because I want to forget about the smell and get some rest. 
      When my father comes in to hit me every night, I am always surprised by how heartless his soul can be. How tiny his heart is. But how can he love someone like me? A rebel. A troublemaker. Society tells me different. My friends disagree with my father's actions, but sometimes I think I deserve it. The pain. The weakness. 
       It all changed one day. When my father didn't come in to hit me, I was scared. I didn't know if he was tired of hitting me, so he wanted to kill me. Or if he just overslept. Or maybe he went out with some girl at a bar. Or he was killed. I didn't think the last suggestion was true. Until, I heard the gun. Shots fired. Empty bullet cases hit the floor. A body hit the ground, hard. Now there were bodies. Not one but two. Two became three. Three became four. Until the last body hit. Thirty-four dead. One alive. 
       And that one person was me. 
                 Chapter 2
      I banged on the door with all my might, trying to get out. 
      "HELLO!!! HELLO?!" I screamed and yelped but it was just me. The trees were still. No sound. Silence. For once, I enjoyed the quiet. It was like listening to a bird hum it's song, but with no bird. I opened the window where I usually get out from. 
       I had been hiding it for nine years. I am only twelve and I was put in this rotten cell at the age of two. Who would've thought that a crying baby would make my parents lock me up. I have snuck out from two o'clock to four o'clock every day. But now, it's different. I took out the window and felt the urge to put it back. But why? 
       I put the window back, trusting my gut. I jumped from my window to the grassy earth beneath my feet, as I  started walking on the side of the road. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew it wasn't in my cell or the house my father had lived in. I realized that I didn't cry at all or even flinch when I heard the gunshots. Not even when I heard the bodies hitting the rock solid floor.