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I am not the perfect son
#WritcoStoryPrompt29
I ran all the way home from the ground. The older boys had beaten me up good but I still had the strength to run as far as I could from them.
I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting beaten up, which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me . I hated myself for lying to her but it was the only way to keep my soul in my body for if she ever knew i would be condemned to any early grave . Sweat was dripping from my forehead mixing itself with blood that was oozing from the fresh cuts on my face . Mother was surely going to kill me before those boys did for no man turned his back from a battle . How i wished to tell her that i am 14 and didn't need such drama but one can ever reason with a psychopath that was raised by a strict father and married an abuse man . Father always said i looked like a girl and acted like one so mother wanted to rectify that mistake . I have to act like a man for she feared i might be a fagot , oh god if she knew i was already one .I reached our door step and started wiping blood away wishing i could also wipe the the bruises . I opened the door to find her in the kitchen making lunch for father . She looked up at me and asked why i was home early not paying attention to the art crafted by the older boys on my face , i told her i had homework to my surprise she dismissed me to my room. i knew something was surely wrong for her not to scold me or lay a finger on me . Dinner time came and i was called to find that dinner wasn't ready or should I say they wasn't dinner. All you need to know is i was beaten senseless without her ever asking what really happened or why i was beaten . i can say at first i didn't hate mother but now i despise her to the core for she was yelling how week i am well beating me not know whether i fought back or not .
© zita
I ran all the way home from the ground. The older boys had beaten me up good but I still had the strength to run as far as I could from them.
I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting beaten up, which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me . I hated myself for lying to her but it was the only way to keep my soul in my body for if she ever knew i would be condemned to any early grave . Sweat was dripping from my forehead mixing itself with blood that was oozing from the fresh cuts on my face . Mother was surely going to kill me before those boys did for no man turned his back from a battle . How i wished to tell her that i am 14 and didn't need such drama but one can ever reason with a psychopath that was raised by a strict father and married an abuse man . Father always said i looked like a girl and acted like one so mother wanted to rectify that mistake . I have to act like a man for she feared i might be a fagot , oh god if she knew i was already one .I reached our door step and started wiping blood away wishing i could also wipe the the bruises . I opened the door to find her in the kitchen making lunch for father . She looked up at me and asked why i was home early not paying attention to the art crafted by the older boys on my face , i told her i had homework to my surprise she dismissed me to my room. i knew something was surely wrong for her not to scold me or lay a finger on me . Dinner time came and i was called to find that dinner wasn't ready or should I say they wasn't dinner. All you need to know is i was beaten senseless without her ever asking what really happened or why i was beaten . i can say at first i didn't hate mother but now i despise her to the core for she was yelling how week i am well beating me not know whether i fought back or not .
© zita
