I do not own THE LOST BOYS or any of the characters in it. I just own Morgan Wirth and Kaiden Thompson. I've decided to revise and repost.
Chapter 1
Good Bye, Daddy Dearest
"Morgan, I watched you bring one unwanted monster into my life. I'm not going to let you do it again!" My father says to my unconscious mother. I watched as he uses his last two bullets on her, one to her womb and one in her skull. BANG! BANG goes to gun. He killed her and my unborn baby brother, never giving him a chance at life. In two months he would have been born. What kind of child would he have been? A quiet little book worm? Or a little energetic little athlete? He bends down and kisses her hard on the mouth. Quickly I cover my mouth, muffling a scream hoping my father didn't hear it. No luck, he turns around and opens the closet where I was hiding. "You!" with no thought he grabs me by my hair and drags me out of the closet, past my dead mother getting her blood on me. He stops as we enter the kitchen. He yanks me up by the collar of my Def Leppard t-shirt. My bare toes could barley touch the ground. Then the ranting started. "BECAUSE OF YOU I HAD TO MARRY YOUR MOTHER. IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO. IF I DIDN'T PEOPLE WOULDN'T LOOK AT ME THE SAME. I WOULD BE KNOWN AS THE GUY WHO KNOCKED UP EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD MORGAN WIRTH. I DIDN'T WANT THAT. DIDN'T NEED THAT!" I flinch as he screams in my face. I knew he was drunk his breath smelled like whiskey, Jack Daniels to be exact. I tried to look a way but he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him. At this point I was beyond scared. But I couldn't let my father see that. "You could have gotten a divorce." I suggested quietly trying to shrug. His dark brown eyes glared at me. "To get a DIVORCE would mean I would have MONEY. Because I have to pay for all of your stupid shit means I don't have MONEY." He forcefully spits out the words 'Divorce and money.' "Well maybe you shouldn't have brought so much FUCKING BEER." The last part comes screaming out of my mouth before I could stop it. I cover my mouth with my hands as if I never said that out loud. Father drops me to the ground. He goes to back hand me. I duck. This time he grips my upper arms tight and digs his nails in to me. Now father has long nails for a guy. He back hands me as hard as he can twice, one on each cheek. I fall down on the second strike. Tears start to penetrate my eyes. "STAND UP." Father commands. I do as I'm told. I could feel the blood drip from my nose. He punches me in the stomach then in the ribs a couple times to each side. Slowly I fall to the ground; before I could get there he pulls me back up. Father grabs on of the stake knives and takes a swing. He barely gets the side of my stomach, but it would need stitches. Father takes four more swings and gets me more each time. When he got to his sixth swing I doge it and he runs head first into the wall. I watched as she fell to the floor. Hate forced it way into my eyes. I pick up the knife and walk over to him. Slowly I bent down behind him and slit deep into his throat. Before I got up I stabbed him twice, once for mother and once for my baby brother. "Good bye, Daddy dearest."
After realizing what I did I knew I had to leave. Quickly I grabbed an apple and a water bottle. Then slowly I struggled up the stairs to my room. After striping my self of my clothing I looked down at my wounds. For once I realized how deep they were. Blood was seeping out of the stab wounds, dripping down my body in to a puddle on the floor. Bandages were a must no doubt about it. My sheets would be perfect. They were clean I put them on my bed this morning. At first I tried to rip them apart but I was too weak. So I had to cut them. With three swift movements I took the pair of scissors out of my night stand and started to cut my sheets in to strips. When I was done cutting I sat down on my bed to take a short break before walking to the bathroom to clean my self up. Rapidly I plugged the bathtub and let hot water pour into it, then turned to look at my self in the mirror. My face looked pretty bad. To my surprises my father didn't pull out any of my piercings. My nose still had the small sliver hoop in the left nostril. I moved my hair back from my ears. Yep my numerous piercings were still there. Luckily my nose had stopped bleeding but it was slightly bruised and there was dry blood rested blow my nose and above my lip. My right eye was black with bruise as was my left cheek. There was cut that went from the top of my left eyebrow to just below my bottom eye lid a dark bruise followed along both sides of it. The right side of my lower lip was cut; blood was dripping down my chin. I took off my bra and panties and let them drop to the floor before I stepped in to the tub. A small scream escaped my lips. Tears flood my eyes as more pain ripples through my body. But I knew I had to get cleaned up. Hot water would kill the germs and help prevent infection. Quickly I washed my hair to get my mothers blood out of it. When I finished I dried my self off. This was completely useless because the blood from the wounds on my torso kept bleeding. Now completely naked I wrap up my wounds. There was no way I could bandage the cuts on my face. I take another look at myself in the mirror. My icy blue eyes looked dead and my inklike hair hung at my waist.
Back in my room I found some clothing to ware and to take out of my dresser. Swiftly I put on dark green panties and a matching bra. On top of that went a black spaghetti strap dress with an empire waist that went to mid thigh and some black low to converses. Grabbing a black back pack out of my closet I shove the food I had brought up from the kitchen in it. Then I shove in the extra clothing I would be taking with me; black jeans that were full of holes, a pair of black shorts, my black Motley Crue t-shirt, a black tank top and a change of underwear. Knowing the cops would be here soon I had to hurry, had to leave. Even though it was summer it would be cold at night so I grabbed my black leather biker's jacket. Before I left my room I hastily shoved a picture of my mother, and empty notebook and a pen into the bag and my favorite book; Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe.
My mother always told me if I ever need any money I was to move the floor board under her shoes in her closet. That's what I did I took all of it, four hundred and fifty dollars. I could hear sirens; swiftly I grab the flashlight and the switchblade off my father's shelf and climbed out of my parent's window.
To be honest I had no fucking clue where I was going to go or do. When my parents used to fight I would go to this part of the beach. No body would go there, I'm not sure why. As I walked there where ever there is. I thought about what happed, what I just did.
I found a spot by a couple of boulders to sleep by. It seemed as soon as I laid down I fell asleep.