Masquerade

My life wasn't sunshine and roses.

At home, it was a living hell. For my parents, I couldn't do anything right. And my father, well, let's just say his actions aren't relevant to this story. Or, actually, I'm just too scared to talk about them. But, on the contrary, his actions are the symbol of my independence. Or at least my four hours of it.

It all starts on a quiet Friday night. I was up in my room, minding my biz when I heard glass break downstairs. I quickly closed my laptop and ran to check it out.

What I saw was a nightmare. My mother, the one who had just started slightly being kinder to me, was on the floor, a gash in her head. My father stood before her. His eyes were bloodshot, and anger, hatred and the smell of whiskey all radiated off of him.

I was pissed. The scene of my mother bleeding out on the floor brought back good memories of the two of us. I felt rage fill me as I ran towards my drunken father. Just as I reached him, he swung a frying pan at my head. It hit, hard, and I felt the blood begin to drip down my forehead and run down my cheek. I ignored it and grabbed a knife. With no thought at all, I shoved the knife through my raging father's wrist.

As he screamed in pain, I guided him towards the basement stairs. Still moaning in pain, I pushed him. He tumbled down, yelling out profanities the whole time.

I ran back to my mother, my phone in my hand. I dialled 911, still fuming with anger. I was done, done with his bullshit. I told the operator about my mother and father, and she stayed on the line with me until authorities came. They pulled my father out of the basement and put him on a stretcher. I followed them outside as a kind, blonde female police officer explained to me that once the hospital cleared him, he would be locked in a cell straight away. I loved the idea.

It wasn't until they pulled my mother out on the stretcher the sadness came. The midnight black bag cover her ridged body. I hadn't been quick enough.

My father had killed her.

Greif overtook my body and I collapsed to the ground, sobbing. My mother, my beautiful mother, gone. A victim of my father's rage. I missed her already, because even though she had said some horrible things to me, she loved me. She only said those things around my father, as though he was threatening her. When he wasnt around, she was kind. We did things together, such as sing and dance. Then when my father came back, the cruel words resurfaced.

I began to feel dizzy. And before I knew it, I saw white, then black.

And my mother's glowing face.

Notes

Chapter numero uno! Holla!

*attemps to cheer you up after a sorta depressing chapter*

Oh well, I hop you enjoy, and until next time,

Au revoir, my loves!