My name is Mark, just Mark. I'm 8 years old and I don’t want to be at home. Why is that? It's simple, because my dad beats me everyday. My body, full of bruises. From time to time I ended up passing out just from the pain. The only time I wasn’t beaten by my father was when he wasn’t at home. Even with that I still didn’t wanna be home.

  My house. It was a normal house just like everyone else. It had cigarette marks all over the floor and on the walls. It was normal for some doors to be broken. The kitchen was completely oxidized. Sometimes we didn’t even have running water. Well, that is what my mother always said to me. Every house had the same issues. She was right, right?

  My mom stayed with me when my father wasn’t at home. The only times he talked to me was to complain about me, or tell me how miserable her life became the moment she gave birth to me. My life was always like that.

  Some streets away from mine there was a small market. There I used to steal food to eat. Due to my thin figure and my low resistance I was catched really easily by the sellers. Every time they catched me, they would bring me to this alley to beat me up. Strangely, I didn't really feel pain from their hits. I would just lay on the ground and wait until they were satisfied.

  One day my father really crossed a line.

  It was august. The summer was ending and it could be felt on the clime. I’m from a really bad neighbourhood at the outskirts of Dublin, Ireland. So at that time of the year it was normal for the temperature to go down. I remember that month specifically as one of the coldest. I was at the market, looking for some blankets. I was genuinely cold. While walking I noticed at a stall I didn’t see before some new blankets. They were still inside plastics. I looked around to see if there was someone close that could see me taking them. I looked a bit more and when I was sure I took two and started running in the direction of my house. Rarely that time no one followed me nor tried to catch me.

  I got home. My breathing was shallow from the exhaustion of running non stop. That day I was kind of happy. How couldn’t I? My robbery was successful. No one seemed to be at home. I could even say it was one of the best days of my life. I went directly to my room to try on my new blanket. The other one… Was for my mother. Even with everything she says to me, I still love her. She is my mother after all.

  I was just enjoying the warmth that my new blanket was providing me, when I heard someone at the door. My heart started beating faster. For a moment I thought that it could be my father. I looked at the clock I had in my room. It 's 12:37 PM. I let out a bunch of air through my mouth and I calmed myself. My father should still be out, so it was my mother. I grabbed the blanket I stole for her and I went to meet her.

  The door started opening. The age and lack of oil always caused the door to squeak and creak. I stood in front of the door with a smile on my face and the blanket behind my back. On the door, my mother appeared. The disgust in her face when she saw me was the same as always. I ignored it. “Hello, mom. I got something for you”. I said. My mother looked surprised. “What”. Her tone was cold as always.

  “Taraaaa”. I showed her the blanket. “Her eyes opened a little bit wide and the grin of disgust on her face seemed to have disappeared. “Oh. T-thanks. I guess”. I stopped smiling. I felt my eyes started getting wet. “Your welcome, mom”. I turn back and run to my room. The moment I entered I closed the door.

  I put my back against the door. That caught me off guard. Tears started running through my face. I was crying, but I wasn’t sad. “. It was the first time in my life my mother thanked me for anything. I grabbed my blanket tightly. After some minutes I calmed down and I fell asleep.

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  Bang! A heavy sound woke me up suddenly. Bang! Another one they sounded oddly familiar. Where was it coming from? Bang! One more. For a moment I thought I heard it inside my house. I looked at the clock. The second after I started sweating and breathing heavily. 14:03. My father always came to beat me up at 14:00. If I’m still in my room at that time and he hasn’t come looking from me, those sounds can only mean one thing. I clenched my teeth. I didn’t know why, but I got angry.

  I acted on mere instinct. I opened my door and ran through my house figuring out where the sounds were coming from. Bang! On my left, there was the door to my parents bedroom. Bang! I couldn’t move. Bang! I took a step and starting opening the door. Bang! I peek. I saw my father with his right fist up. Bang! He hit something or someone he was grabbing and instantly the fist went to the same position. I look beneath him…

  My mom. My mom was laying on the floor receiving all these blows. My father saw me peeking on the door. He glared at me. His gaze was completely unemotional and cold. He threw one more punch at my mother while looking at me. I look again at my mom. She wasn’t moving. Before I could have a second thought, a huge pain invaded my face. I went flying backwards. My back hit the door of the living room and I fell to the floor.

  I looked up and I saw my father in the bedroom with his arm extended. It was him who hit me. That punch was much stronger than anyone he had thrown at me ever before. I started getting more nervous and scared. I could really feel that I was gonna die that day. Surprisingly my father didn't come at me to beat me. He grabbed my mother by the hair and dragged her out of the bedroom in the direction of the kitchen.

  I started getting up the best I could. I went directly to the kitchen. My vision on the right side started becoming red. I touch my eye. I then looked at my hand. Blood. It had to be from the punch. Blood falling from the head running through my face. I continue walking to the door of the kitchen.

  The door was open and my father did just enter. I looked inside. My father still had my mother grabbed by the hair. He opened some drawers. He was looking for something and it seemed that he just found it at that moment. A knife on his right hand. My mother on his left hand. I stood there unable to move. He raised the knife aiming for my mother. I don’t really recall what happened after that. The next thing I recall is me being in the hallway. At my feet laying on the floor… My father. I don’t know why but my hand hurt a lot. I looked at them. Blood on the knuckles. I look at my father again. Her face was full of blood. “Not bad” He said. He got up as if nothing happened. I thought my day had come. I was gonna die.

  No. I didn’t die. My father just got out of the house and disappeared. I couldn't understand anything. Why my father said that, why my knuckles were bull of blood. At that moment only one thing passed through my mind. Where was my mother? I couldn’t think of anything else.

  I walked to the kitchen and I found my mother. I threw up. She had six knives stabbing her body. “Aaa. Aaaaaa. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” I shouted. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” I couldn't control myself. I cried and shouted for a long time until blood came out from my mouth due to me shouting for so long.

  I stumbled out of the kitchen, the walls smeared with blood. My father’s blood. My blood. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I walked out of the house. Outside a gust of cold wind hit my face and I didn't care. I didn’t know where I was going, and I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away.

  My mind was completely blank. I started walking. I had no shoes and I didn’t care. I was wearing a broken and ripped tank top and I didn't care. A sports shorts, and I didn’t care. My hair, a complete mess and I didn’t care. I don’t know how much time passed. The exhaustion catched me. I fell, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything else. I was ready to die. I had been beaten up by my father since I was 4. I just saw my mom dead. My father is the culprit.

  As I closed my eyes to just lay there until I died, I heard a voice. “It looks like you had a hard day, kid”. I looked up and saw a man in a cap standing over me. I didn’t know who he was, but before I could say anything, everything went black.