Go to hell you idiot, you screwed up again! and that was just the beginning of it. Id barricade my door shut every night, the only times I would leave my room was to go to my friends house, school, or to get dinner. One night my dad had crossed the line, he had slapped my mum across the face with his giant hairy fist and started to choke the life out of her, her face was beginning to lose its colour. My body moved by automatically and pushed him off my mum, he then looked at me with a long gaze that could penetrate into my soul, I covered my eyes because I knew what was coming when I felt a balled fist make contact with my muscle, watching it smash my entrails together like a rogue freight train. I felt blood vessels burst and diaphragm collapse under the force the fist packed behind it. Oddly enough, the fist continued to thrust upward until my liver and stomach stopped my dads knuckles from clashing into my spine. As my crumpled body hit the ground, I grasped for air, but oxygen eluded my grasp. My glasses, gifted from my grandma cracked. .
That was just the drop in the bucket of many violent episodes. My mum sent me to my room so I can be safe. I put on my broken glasses so I could see my grandpas old bag, which he took with him when he would go to Maya ruins, so I can live a life full of adventure, I got the old bag and started to pack my white sweater and tight jeans. I quietly snuck down the stairs, and out the door with what felt like a thousand kilograms of luggage on me, I stood outside the front door staring at the long illuminated road ahead of me and myself am I doing the right thing? .
I made my way to my grandpas place to stay the night and figure out what I want to do, as I walked.
