In which Sugary Snicket gets to act very, very evil….

Chapter two

It turned out that drama club was for "nerds" at my school, and even though the drama club leader loved my talents, and gave me all of the best male - and some female, occasionally - roles, the other students would try to boo me off stage, and my father refused to even come to one of my skits or plays. Soon, I was making up shows of my own, begging the director to put on at least one of them. Finally, he agreed to put on a small skit entitled "The Solar System", one of my favorite topics to study. I obtained the part of the Sun, and I remember how smug I felt then, as my fellow actors and actresses played the planets and walked around me in large circles.

This feeling soon left me. One day, at school, a group of bullies thought it would be funny to stuff me back into the sun outfit and suspend me from a ceiling fan. I thought that they were kidding as they did so, but found out that they were going to leave me there and blame me for putting on the suit and suspending myself from the ceiling. Their plan worked, causing me to get expelled and my father to get angrier.

That night, I saw a side of my father that I never wanted to see again. That night, he started to talk with me in a calm manner, as if he were just wondering why I had gotten expelled. I explained my side, but he thought that I was making excuses, and when I pleaded for him to believe me, he pushed me to the ground. Stunned by his sudden display of anger, I asked him why he had hurt me. He responded by telling me that he was tired of my questions, then yanked me off of the ground and struck me across the face hard, as if I were some kind of punching bag.

Feeling the raw red mark that stung like fire, I asked why he had done that, my courage eventually fading and being replaced by cold fear. He did not answer, but told me to shut up and pushed me into the kitchen table.

By now I was crying and asking him to stop, but every time I spoke, he only got angrier and would kick or punch me. I knew that this was not right, and that I was in big trouble, but did nothing but curl into a ball and whimper as he continued his assault. Eventually he calmed down and told me to go to my room. I figured that he was going through some one time only phase that I had caused, making me feel as if I deserved this kind of treatment.

This went on for several days, eventually making me wish that I could rid myself of this pain; wish that I was not even alive. I started to wonder if I really was worthless.

Soon, I realized that I was causing' the problem, and because I could not go back to school, I was around my abusive parent twenty-four seven. I looked up several helpful resources in the phone book, but when I tried to call, my father cut the telephone wire and threw away the phone book, then hit me again. By now he had started to use items against me; a rolling pin, a knife, a nail gun at one point. Whenever I went outside, people would question about my wounds, but knowing what my father would do if he found out, I dismissed it or told people that my pet cat had hurt me.

I of course had no such pet cat, and my father knew it. Eventually, he would hurt me even if I had done nothing. I realized by now that if I could escape from the pain, maybe I would feel better. I soon became very depressed and angry at myself, until one night when I noticed a carving knife on my floor. Maybe, I thought, if I hurt myself, my father would stop hurting me.

The nights went by, and eventually my father wondered about the strange cuts on my wrists and arms. I told them that I had cut myself on a knife while making dinner one night, but he did not believe me and preceded to hurt me again. That night I again slashed my wrists, watching blood fall to the floor, and felt that maybe if I could remind myself that I was still living, I could live.

None of this helped. I soon began to wonder if I was the problem. Problems, I thought, needed to be removed. I knew that I couldn't stay in my own home anymore. I knew I was better off on my own.

An abusive father….. wow, I am evil…. And a nail gun, too…… flicks on flashlight, holds to face in menacing way ….Mwahahahaha…..