My Father is one of the most precious thing of all time to me. Most would never belive it, but I am at my happiest when I am near him. He is the only family I have left, the only one who kept me from killing myself not long ago. Though most hate him, wishing him ill, I wish him well. He deserves everything, no matter what he has done to others. We might have an awkward relationship, but it is the best relationship. He pays for my training, I work for my place by shipping loads, even if I hate it at the time. Every late night I slip into bed, my muscles aching with each movement, I feel glad not glum that I live with a Father who is not afraid to hurt me badly to teach me. And every morning I wake up from a sleepless night, I smile, knowing that I will see him once more. It means that I am alive.
He is my example, the only thing I dare endour life for once again.
I had been sure that today was going to be the day that I decided to die. My life meant nothing to me at this moment, and I intended to end it while I had the chance. It was late at night, pribably midnight, and my door was closed. The full moon outside was the only thing that illuminated the shap pice of expensive glass in my right hand, showing in full view how it was piosed treathnengly above my left wrist.
Yes... I breathed the word in, before lifting my arm in the air, gathering as much will power as possible. My hand was ready, in full aim towards my greatly visible dark vein. Now...
A loud knock sounded at my door. "Open up, Gunther." Came a deep voice.
Nooo! I was so close. I hid the sharp shard under my white pillow and relunctantly opened the door. "Yes, Father?"
He looked down at me with a scowl. "Turn off that candle and go to sleep. You need some rest." He turned and left, his heavy steps echoing down the stairs.
I shut the door and walked towards my dresser, where a weak candle still flickered in the darkness.
"...maybe tomorrow," I muttered as I blew the candle out. "...he still care's..."