“The devil strips us of our humanity and all that remains is an animal”.
These are the last words my father told me before he killed himself, intense I know; but this story is an intense one. Let me start by saying this is happening some where in a place you’ve heard of, I won’t tell you exactly the location just know you’ve might of heard about it in the news, but, it being described as a completely different situation. I started a podcast, one where I spoke my mind of how I saw the world and now I think I’ve started the end times.
Let me start from the beginning, I guess it’s story as old as time, young boy grows up in an abusive household only to grow up feeling alienated by the world; throw in a montage of sad music and well, that describes my life. I was not a happy kid, my parents constantly argued, sometimes the fights were harmless and other times they were right down vicious; though it was just our way of life and for the most part I lived with that cloud of anger hovering over me without a glitch. While most kids my age were learning about the joy of living I was too busy discovering how depraved humans could be by observing my parents. My father was an alcoholic, there’s not a time I don’t remember him not having a drink in his hand; sometimes it would be beer and then there was whiskey. Whiskey, a scent that I’ve grown to despise, fragments of my fathers image haunt me anytime I get a whiff of the disgusting poison.
Most times my father would come home from work trying his best to pick a fight with my mother over the most benign reasons, he would parade around the house brushing his fingers across our polished furniture in hopes of finding any evidence of dust; giving him a reason to yell at her. The whole thing made me sick, I was to small to fend him off so honestly most of the time I would hide, especially anytime he would slap my mother, the sound of skin whipping against each other has to be one of the most grotesque noises one could hear, the horrid sound still sends chills up my spine. My father was a big man, his mere presence terrified me; luckily those beatings were only reserved for my mother, he hardly ever touched me, at times it almost felt as if my mom was my own personal whipping boy; though I could see how much my dad truly despised me…