When my mom left, five years ago, this all started. She just got so sick of my dad's drinking and abusive behaviour, so she left, diddent take me with her. Dad drank more then ever that day, the worst I ever seen him, and called me. I was in my room crying, from fear of my father, and sadness of my mother. When I went down there he grabed my black shirt and threw me down the stairs, tha-dunk, ta-dunk, all the way down. I knocked over a bucket filled with bleach spilling all over me, burning my skin, drenching my shirt and pants. My dad flicking a lighter and throwing it on me. I woke up in a hospital, not saying a word to anyone till we left, in fear of my father.
I snapped back into reality, I was hanging from my hands, tied by rope, hanging from the ceiling. My feet almost touched the ground, unlike when I was eight, only a month after the hospital. There was a tabel in front of me, but not close enough to kick. It had knifes of all shapes and sizes. The wall on the left of me held wips, rope, a bat, and things I knew no name for. on the right of me my dad sat with a knife, rocking back and forth. A shiver ran down my back, and the stench of rotting flesh filled the room.