I feel like there is a beast living inside my body. A beast so strong I cannot keep it restrained in my mind. I wanna scream, I wanna yell for help, but frankly there’s no one here besides my father. My drunken old man. I’ve been living with him ever since Mom died, I’m not surprised at how he treated me, really. Not that what he’s doing is right, but I understand.
To be honest, he has never been part of my life. My parents had a divorce when I was still an infant, and my mom decided to take care of me, while my dad chose to live alone and drink alcohol everyday. But his luck ended the day she died. Legally, he is still my father, so I got sent to the trailer where he lives for the past 15 years, and where I would spend my life until I go to college.
So here I am, laying on my bed, waiting for the sun to rise. I stroke through the scar on my left arm, it’s less visible now, but even as I touch it now I can still feel the pain. It was the second day after I got to the trailer, as the day before, he sat on his pull-out couch, watched football while drinking bear. The table in front of him was full of empty bottles and one half eaten hotdog, and some magazines besides it. He saw me walking in, and called me over. It was the first time I learned that his leg is missing, instead it was a prosthesis underneath his right side of the hip. But I was too concerned of what he was gonna say, so I…
