Forever Emotionless And Revenge
I recall staring out my window, the sun was shining brightly unlike my room that was brewing up a storm of fear and hatred. To this very day I wondered how so much light and hope can shine around the world, yet it could never reach my bedroom window. Life is filled with so-called mysteries that are left unanswered, when you know the answer deep inside your heart.
On December 22, I was just a sad little teenager sitting around the house bored. Wondering what to do, I went onto Facebook; no help there. Next my brother, Brick, called,
"Boomer! Butch! The grandparents are here to take us out to lunch! Hurry up!" Butch just replied saying,
"In a minute Brick, I think there was something we were suppose to do." Of course nobody knew until we got into the car; Yup the Christmas presents.
Imagine being the youngest and so-called smallest that you would have to sit on the ground, IN FRONT OF THE PASSENGER'S SEAT (But I do admit it was fun). As soon as I got out, I was doing hamstring stretches until we were seated. The food was pretty fancy, but I ended up hurting my teeth on a humongous piece of hard, chewy tendon.
2:30 we come home, check the mail, and find a surprise. There was a note saying that a delivery guy came over to our house, but there was nobody to sign the package; henceforth, they will try again tomorrow. Unfortunately, after 2 minutes, my dad came home. He was very unhappy when he saw the note on his desk, so he gathered us children to the living room.
"Butch, Get you damn butt over here! Brick, Boomer come to the living room right now!" We quickly ran over to see what happened, then stared at balled-up fist with veins popping out from rage. Inside the huge fist was a small, crumpled piece of paper, his well-known glare glued to his face.
"Butch, why the heck is this note here?" said the enraged, middle-age man.
"I was out eating lunch with my brothers and grandparents when they delivered the package. You can't possible think I can be at two places at once?" Butch was smirking, but on his face there was "oh crud" written all over it.
"You lazy loser of a son! I specifically told you that the package was coming today several times. This one tiny favor I ask of you, the package that was supposedly your new laptop, you freaking forgot?"
"I'll remember when I remember"
The next thing that happened was a blur. As soon I could make out a picture, there was my dad trying to strike a punch at Butch. I grew very afraid, not at my father, but at my brother. What happened was that he went into battle mode, for in that picture, arms up, legs-shoulder-width apart, and overly long fanged-teeth bared, he was prepared to fight.
The image blurred again, but I could see my father punching and kicking, left and right, trying to prove his strength; While Butch was blocking every attack.
"You think that you can talk back to me and act all high and mighty? HUH ASSHOLE? LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT WITH A KNIFE THIS TIME," and there my father stormed off bringing a kitchen knife when he came back.
I found myself trying to dial 911, but I didn't want to get in trouble if the police come, so my hands were clenched. I just stared at the knife wondering if my dad was going to actually going to hurt Butch, or if Butch was going to cower away and beg for mercy; Butch begged for mercy. Luckily dad forgave him, but he took away my brother's only usable present given by his godparents.
After hiding behind my brother, Brick whispered,
"What's wrong Boomer? Your hands are purple." Right, my hands, I tried to release my frustrated grasp on my palms, but it took a while because my fingers were shaking down. I had deep nail marks that were close to bleeding, and thinly around the marks were and unsightly purple shade on my flesh. I replied with a thank you, but it only made Brick worry more.
My voice went from a childish screech into an average man's voice. Instead of crying, my eyes were distant and appeared almost black compared to my usual woody brown. But worst of all, my "sweet, embracing" smile turned demonic. I wasn't allowed to speak of this incident, so I became less cheerful, which then led me to wear more baggy boyish clothing. I hung out with ghetto guys, and actually almost became one of them,
My only fault was that I soon developed crushes, for I was at the proper age. I got teased for "liking people" when I only thought that they were cute. These people made me finally realize when they started laughing. Just one look of absolute hate, for crying did not help in this situation. The boys flinched, staring as if I had grown a third eye; the reason being that I had a very dark aura around me.
It was official, I had become a demon.