Days of rain had swelled the river floods threatened to break lose. All I've ever really wanted was a place to call my home. But I guess I just have to look. My family isn't so great either. My mom is a stay home drunk, and my dad is an abusive workaholic. I barley know anyone else in my family because, my parents don’t want people to know I get abused. Even thought my whole family knows.
 
As a result to my abuse, I smoke and do drugs whenever I can. One day my dad got so angry at my mom that he punched me in the face and choke slammed me into a door. It hurt bad, but i didn’t cry because I was so use to it. Well I was use to that and the yelling. The neighbors got use to the yelling too that’s why the cops were never called.
 
Sometimes my parents kept me from going to school because I was so bruised and cut up. I hated my life, I sometimes even thought about suicide. And I never had friends to tell me that it was going to be ok. Maybe because nothing will be ok. But either way things were never going to change. And maybe that was best. These thoughts are the only things that got me thru the day.

The only things that I could do in my free time is read and be quiet. That was the only thing I was allowed to do. My favorite author was Stephen King. The current book I was reading was Cell. I enjoyed reading because it was the only way I could get away from my true life.

Today I was allowed to go to school. I was very happy to be able to go. But instead of having a good day I got yelled at by all my teachers. I knew my father wouldn’t be happy about this. School only went until 2:45 so I had time to get him to cool off. But like always he just needed to be mad.

I hated going home my house was about three miles away. My dad didn’t want me to enjoy a rest on the bus so he made me walk every day, and if he ever found out that I took the bus he would whip me with his belt. I hated the beatings but they were too normal.

I got home after walking for about 1 hour to my mom passed out on the floor. My dad came home and yelled at me right away. Like always I went into my room in the basement, and shut the door. I went to drawer and pulled out a round pill bottle, a lighter and some paper.

I have a door in my basement with two locks on it. My parents think I don’t know how to open it but I do. I got good on getting in and out. I usually did it to smoke. This was one of those times. I've always wondered why I didn’t just run away after doing this.

Sometimes I don’t even know why I do anything at all. I walked outside and went to the park right next to my house. I never really knew what the park was called but I knew where It was. I never forgot.

I had a bowl, a lighter, and a pill bottle with 3 nugs. The bathrooms were always open, even in the winter. I opened the door and walked in with everything in my pocket. There was nobody there, I was good to smoke. I took out everything that was in my pocket; put a nug in the bowl, covered the hole on the side, lit it on fire, and inhaled.

I pretended I had somebody whit me and went with the puff puff pass rule. Inhaled once inhaled twice other hand inhaled once inhaled twice other hand and repeated that for about 5 minutes. Then I was on my way back, and I was stoned out of my mind. And the stuff I just smoked was stronger then ever.

anything could happen now. And after my high I freaked out at what I had done. It was the worst thing I have ever done. But I could say it was just self defense. But then again what about my mother. What could I say about her. I couldn’t say anything but I was screwed.

I knew my life sucked before but I was sure that I was either going to kill myself or go to jail. Either way I was going to suffer. And probably more than I ever had. Worse than the beatings, worse than the cigar burns, worse than everything I was called and thought of. This was just the worst thing ever.

I lay here next to two dead bodies, my pants soaked with blood. Everything in my life really was dark and evil. I looked to the bodies; both brutally murdered with knives thru there chests. I wanted to be respectful and just leave them but no I had to mess it up even more. I pulled the knives out of there chests and stabbed them repeatedly. I hated them but I also hated myself.

I had to escape and fast. I had been thinking of suicide for a long time though. I had the knives in my hand, slowly moving them closer and closer. Never had I thought I would kill somebody. Especially my parents. I couldn’t live with this guilt even if I did hate them. I shoved both knives into m chest to ensure a causality. I could hear the sirens getting closer and closer. I panicked grabbed the knives and pulled them out of my chest and stuck them back in, with my last strength. And died about 5 seconds later.