My dad is crazy.

Like, the sort of crazy they put in a nuthouse.

Unfortunately, there are no nearby nuthouses on the Isle of Berserk, so I've got to put up with him. Putting up with him isn't a chore, no, not at all. My dad is a gentle, harmless man…most of the time.

But there are times, times when he goes berserk.

And then he's rough and harsh and mean. He goes completely out of his mind, forgets who he is and how he got to be here.

And then he just loses control.

Mostly he just yells at me and breaks windows…

But he's started getting aggressive in this state and he's not going to change.

Until today.

Today I'm going to fight back, and try to pull back the gentle harmless man I know.

He approaches me, blue eyes glowing. He looks angry.

I'm going to stop my dad from destroying the house.

He raises a fist and charges at me, and that's when I realize he plans on hurting, not the house, but me.

I dodge his fist and say, "Dad, listen to me!"

He's gone completely off the deep end by now. "Why should I listen to you? You've done nothing but burden me with your harmless little ways, you don't want to draw blood! What kind of Berserker are you, anyway?"

"Dad," I'm trying to be as calm as I can but he's really scaring me. "Dad, listen to me. You're not who you think you are, you're Osvald the Agreeable, you're harmless and—

"Are you calling me weak?" He shouts, holding up a fist.

"No!" I shout. "Please, just listen to—

He runs over to the weapons rack on our wall and picks up a hammer.

WHIP! He tries to hit me over the head with it, but I move silently as a shadow and just as swift as it.

"Dad—

"FIGHT DAGUR."

The words leave no room for argument and he tosses an axe into my hands.

I catch it, but I put it down on the ground. "I won't attempt to fight you, Dad."

"DAMN IT, DAGUR, FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE!"

I pick up the axe by its hilt. "It—

"Fight."

He is definitely wacko now.

"Dad, plea—

"Fight, Dagur. You've got it in you! I know you can!"

I raise the axe and take a half-hearted swing, defending myself against the hammer.

"It must feel good to FIGHT," Dad says, throwing the hammer around. Somehow, this heartwarming chat loses something since he's trying to seriously hurt me as he gives it.

I duck. "Dad, I'm not trying to hurt you! Please listen to me, this is not you!"

I swing the axe swiftly, trying to block a faster blow from the hammer.

The movement knocks the hammer out of Dad's hands and I wait for him to pick it up.

When he doesn't, I go to throw the axe at the wall, but Dad's eyes are widening and he looks, to put it simpler, like a child. "Huh? What are we doing? Dagur?" He edges in front of me to see my face as I twirl the axe.

And it is much, much too late; I've already thrown it.

It sinks deeply into his chest and draws blood, and I realize what he meant about how it must feel great to fight.

The blood runs deeper, redder, darker…I close my eyes against it as realization sinks in.

Then I realize I must do everything I can to get away from here, because I am a killer.

I blink away tears and resolve never to shed tears again.

From now on, I will be crazy. I will give in to the Berserk tendencies I tried so hard to fight when I saw what they turned my dad into.

I tried so hard…now I don't care.

I'm going to go Berserk.

I'm going to go Berserk.

Take me away from here.

Berserk tendencies…take me away from here, please.

A/N: Uh, where did this come from? A crazy Dagur fan who wanted to entertain the idea of Dagur not killing his father in cold blood.

Uh, I kind of made up a whole back story for him from this and it might come in to play in one of my fanfictions I want to write sooner or later, once I get finished with these.

I think this is a pretty cool idea! :-)))) I just knew the idea what if Dagur didn't kill his father in cold blood crossed my mind and I had to do this!