I've always told myself that I would never die alone. I guess that wasn’t true nothing I said or thought had ever come true. Not even going to school. I wished to go to school science I was around 8; but I'm 13 now and I don’t even think that will happen. I've also dreamt of going outside farther than my front yard. All the things I have ever wanted have never come true.
My parents make sure of it. The only reason they do is because they don’t want anybody seeing the scars. I have them all over they cover most of my body. The only part that isn't covered is my back. I never knew why they purposely missed it but they did. Maybe they don’t want to mess up my spine; but then again why would they do this to me in the first place.
I'm home schooled that’s how I know what I do. The best thing that has happened to me was home school. That’s how I learned to make things sharp. I use the sharp things to make myself bleed in only two places. The only two places that are made from me, and not my parents. I just wished I was normal.
I would do anything to get out of this place I call home, and finally be normal. I've escaped many times but, what I have done when I escaped was oddly fun. I didn’t mean to I was just mad and needed to get out my anger. Nobody knows but the victims. They put up a good fight sometimes, other times it was easy. And boy it filled my stomach when I was hungry.
I'm glad the cops never got past my parents. I would have been in jail if they would have. I couldn’t help myself, the first time I tasted them I knew I had to get more. Killing was my new hobby, besides from eating their dead bodies. The first bite was amazing. Tasted like the best steak you could buy, mixed with the blood. The blood was the best part. I often just filled water bottles with their blood for later.
Being a cannibal was taking over my sanity. I often had rage dreams of me eating my parents alive. But I could never do something like that to them. Well unless I got mad enough. The only thing I could do was hope I wouldn’t get that mad. No I'm not a vampire either, but I do feel like one. This is just an addiction, well a bad one.
I do a lot of bad things, but nothing worse than that. Unless cutting my wrists is worse but I don’t think it is. Nothing could be I am a cannibal and what's worse than that.
It was night time, around eight thirty and I was able to slip out the rusty barbwire fence. But it would be hard I could see my dad’s bright blue T.V. light on thru his window. I needed to be as quiet as possible. Or I would get caught in my crime. I went to the old park on elm street two houses down from where I lived.
I didn’t want to get in trouble by getting caught by neighbors. I didn’t want to get caught by anybody and I was doing a good job of keeping it a secret. I thought about my violent dreams at the park bench alone for a long time. I suddenly herd my father yelling as loud as he could. I wasted too much time at the park, I needed to go back home.
I ran as fast as I could to my back yard. I was on the street about 1 minute away from my house. Half a minute away I started to freak out. I thought I would never leave my room again. There it was the fence gate to my house, I was home. Now I had to get inside. The gate was locked and latched so that I couldn’t get in without climbing. I needed to think fast should I climb the barbwire or should I walk in through the door.
I didn’t have much time to think and, I heard my dad walking outside. Without warning I went to the back part of the rusty brown fence and climbed to the top. But now for the hard part, getting over the sharp knife likes wire. I got one leg over perfectly, now for the other leg. I lifted it with caution, but apparently not enough.
I almost yelled in pain. My leg was stuck in part of the wire. I felt the blood rush down my leg and onto the fence. And about three seconds later I heard three words that got me to move. "There you are." my father yelled. As an effort to make my escape I started to squirm. I got out but also made the cut longer and deeper. Everything was starting to go black. What was going to happen to me
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