Long Live

[John Miller]

John remained still in his bed, looking up at the ceiling and the walls. He hated that house. Everything about that house, including his own room. He didn't had any good memories about that place. All he remembered was pain, tears, blood and suffering. He remembered a lot of beating and a lot of curses that his father had put on him. He remembered his mother not giving a shit, and usually just appearing after it was all over and telling him things like 'If you would be better, your father wouldn't need to punish you so much, John.' Her voice still rang in his ears sometimes. Her attitude hurt him more than his father's punishments.

"Fuck this shit... I will one day be free. And very, VERY far away from here. And no one will stop me..." he said out loud, talking to himself.