Fighter

-J.T.-

I have been fighting for too long. That�s all I know how to do. My fighting began when I was a kid.

I grew up in the house from Hell. My father was an asshole. He acted like he owned everything. Both of my parents worked in the beginning. Then, that douchebag fell in love with alcohol and lost his job because of it. He blamed it on a some bullshit grudge that his boss had against him. As a result, the asshole took his rage out on his family. My mother took it the worst.

For most of my childhood it was either hide or shut up and take it. I couldn�t remember a night when my mother wasn�t crying. He used to beat her over the tiniest things. My mother had to work two jobs. She couldn�t come home in time to play housewife as well. He even frowned upon her going back to school.

�School!� he snorted, �You have time for that and not my dinner?!?�

�It�s to help with work,� she tried to reason.

�Who gives a shit?!?� that asshole barked, �I want my fucking dinner!� I hid under the stairs when another violent storm was coming. Afterwards, my mother would come into my room and lay down on my bed. I�d fall asleep to her sobbing.

�Don�t be a man like your father,� she begged me night after night, �Don�t be like him!�

�I promise,� I whispered back. There is so much one person can take from a hell like that. I reached my breaking point days before my eleventh birthday.

That morning started out like any other. Mom had to go into work early and didn�t have time to cook breakfast. As usual, that jerkass got mad and started up with her. I stood in the kitchen doorway watching. For a long time now, my fear boiled into anger. I couldn�t take him hitting her anymore. For days, I wanted to fight back. The screaming and crying pushed me to act that morning. I shut my eyes and started wishing.

A crash jerked my eyes back open. The monster shoved mom against the sink cabinet. I looked and noticed a knife sitting inches from her. Something in me broke in that moment. I raced forward and grabbed the black handle as that douchebag raised his fist to punch her again. He paused and saw me holding the knife to his chest. That asshole laughed at me.

�Oh, what?� he asked, �You think you�re a big man with that knife?� That asshole unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his shirt.

�Come at me then!� he commanded, �Stab me if you�� I lunged forward and stabbed him in the chest. He fell to his knees gasping. I didn�t stop there. All of that anger inside of me drove me to stab him repeatedly. That bastard didn�t even speak. The kitchen floor flooded red. My mother had to pull me away in tears. The knife hit the floor as she held me in her arms. I felt like throwing up when I realized what I had done.

My mother lied to the police saying that she killed that asshole out of defense. She wasn�t charged, but I was angry at her and I didn�t know why.

Since then, I have always been fighting. Lately, I�ve lose my reason to do so. My mother and I haven�t spoken in years since I finished high school. My life went nowhere as I grew tired of fighting. However, that all changed weeks ago.

The twenty-five burned into my back drives me to fight for my life. Karen is another reason to fight against this damned curse trying to swallow us with death.