#WritcoStoryPrompt6
I can never forget the joyous days of my childhood, especially the summer when all we did was swim in the river or lie on it's edge. But I can also never forget the dark days too. When my father would drink all night and come crashing in at four o'clock in the morning. My father had recently lost his job. I was just nine years old at the time but I can remember his episodes, when he would lose his temper over nothing and scream at my siblings and I. When my mom would try to reprimand him for it, he would get violent and beat her severely, until the bruises on her body had become too much. The next day, he would usually apologize and say, 'I promise I'll never do it again.' But he always slipped back into bad habits, and drank uncontrollable and beat up my mother. Eventually, she had enough and left us alone to suffer at the hands of our father. She didn't even leave a note, I think the worst part is that she never returned. For years, our father abused us in every way possible. So one day, I snapped. I picked up a hammer, I went into his room and I cracked open my father's skull while he slept. I knew that if I was caught I would be taken to the authorities and I would serve jail time for my crime. So I followed in my mother's footsteps. I ran away and I never returned. Up till this day, I sometimes look through the window in my apartment, staring blankly at the street, and I think to myself, 'Where did it all go wrong?'

_Isowa O'Connell.

© Omega O.