I approached the bird sitting on my bedroom window sill very carefully. She was injured, her wing folded oddly. She squawked at me as I reached my hand out to her. I snatched back my arm, afraid. No, I couldn't be afraid. What would Father say if I was afraid of a bird? He'd tan my backside, easy. I wouldn't sit comfortably for days. The bird let me pick her up, and I gently put her on a blanket on my bed. She looked so vulnerable. I ran downstairs to get an apple and some water in a little bowl. She stuck her short beak into the bowl and drank the water. She ate the chopped apple from my hand. After a week or so, she was better, her feathers smooth and luxurious, her wing able to spread. I loved her. But then Father came home.
"What the bloody hell is this, Gregory?" he yelled, grabbing me by the shirt. I stammered hopelessly
"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry f-f-father- I-I-I w-w-was-" he cut me off with a blow to the side of the face.
"Have you been keeping this thing in here?" he shouted, gesturing towards my panicking bird "don't answer, I'm not in the mood to wait for six hours for half a sentence"
"S-s-sorry" I whispered. I'd only wanted to take care of her. To fix her.
"I've never seen anything so pathetic in my life" he snarled. I began to cry. It wasn't fair. I was only trying to help her. Father shoved me into the wall and punched me hard in the face. I felt my nose start to bleed. I only cried harder. Father slapped me and turned to my bird. "Come on, Gregory. I want you to see this. I want you to see what I do to disgusting vermin hat get in my house" he gave me a pointed look as though he was talking to me. What was he going to do. My bird panicked as Father approached her. He lunged towards her and caught her, gripping her hard as she struggled and crowed. I stepped forward, trying to protest. But he just grabbed my wrist with his free hand and pulled me out of the room. We went into the garden, my bird struggling wildly, tears falling down my face. Father shoved me away from him and put the bird down on the floor.
"Hold it here, Gregory. If it gets away, you will not get food for a week, and I will beat you every day, do you understand?"
"I-I-I u-understand" I gulped, placing my hand over my bird, tears streaking down my face and landing on the writhing bird. Father went to the shed and got his axe. He used it occasionally to chop firewood. I didn't connect what he was about to do until he came up to me and barked at me.
"Hold it still, Gregory, unless you want to lose your fingers"
"N-no! Father, d-d-don't!" but before I had finished my sentence, the axe had come down with a sharp thud on my bird's neck. Blood gushed from the wound. Her head was severed. I stared at her in shock, my beautiful bird with her bright shining feathers and curious disposition. My wonderful bird whom I had taken care of, loved. My magnificent bird with blood pouring from her neck, her eyes wide open. I screamed pulling away my hands. I had held her down while she was mindlessly executed.
"Pull yourself together boy" Father yelled at me, yanking me up by my t-shirt and kicking my bird into the bushes.
"Why?" I howled. "Why d-did you d-do it?"
"You wouldn't understand" he whispered, venom dripping from his words. I wiped my sleeve across my face, smearing the blood from my nose with my tears. "Back inside, now. Go to your room. I'll be up in a few hours for your punishment" I turned and ran away from him to my bedroom, slamming the door. I knew that slamming the door would worsen my beating, but I didn't care. My bird was gone. And I would never have a friend again.
