Long Live

[John Miller]

He took a moment to think, while playing with his fingers on the bed covers. So many horrible things had happened that it was hard for him to pick just one.

"Well... When I was around 12 years old, my old man came home very pissed. Something had happened at his work or some shit. He started raging for no real reason, and I was able to see my mom getting freaked out. After he fight with her for like an hour, he moved on to me. He beat me so hard, I wasn't able to move out of bed for the next 3 days. And even if after that it all just started growing worse and worse, is that time that I was never actually able to forget. Because it was so pointless, because I have seriously done nothing wrong that time..." he paused, sounding as if it was horribly hard for him to say all those words...

He took a deep breath. "Usually, he has some sort of reason. And if he doesn't, he at least tries to make one up. But that time, he didn't even stressed on trying to find one... He just did it, as if it was fine, as if it was natural, as if I was made for the mare purpose of being his hitting sack. For some reason, it just felt so wrong and painful, more than usual... I guess that it was when I discovered he doesn't seriously need a real reason to do it..."