I am Jargon, 11 years old, the wicked child of a hopeless family. My parents are farmers, who look good on the outside but have caused me many sleepless nights. The screams of my mom, the torturing pain felt by my wounds, and the hopelessness of me not being able to do anything about it. I cursed my life. What is this? Did I deserve any of this?
One night, my dad came into my room. My room was messy because this wasn't his first time here. His disgusting stare pierced through me as he rampaged, scattering my belongings across the room
"Why is the room not cleaned?!"
This was his usual question that gave him an excuse to abuse me. Even though the room is always messy because of his dumbass.
"..."
"No answer huh?" he says as he kicks the boy with his right foot.
"..."
"How about you scream a little for me you useless brat?! This is all your fault Jargon, you are an evil child! You cursed our house! if it wasn't for you our relationship would have been better!"
The hours went by faster than I expected, maybe I got used to this? I do feel the pain of the blue marks all over my rib cage and the wounds caused by the shattered glass from the alcohol bottle though.
Jargon has gone through this since he was six, which makes it 4 years. What made his dad become like this is unknown to Jarger. The only thing he knows is that it's apparently his fault and only his, that the family has become like this.
Jargon knows only anger, sadness, and hatred. He only caught a little glimpse of what love was, which his mother showed him when he was a toddler. He started to forget that glimpse a long time ago but was reminded of it by the toys his mom bought him, which used to be fully intact in his room.
But by the time he was done, nothing was left, not even the few toys left by my mom. He left nothing untouched except my growing hatred...