His

"Shut up you worthless piece of trash! You're not my son! You've never been!" My dad yelled at me, kicking me.

"No! Alan stop! You're hurting Spencer!"

My mom screamed at dad, but she couldn't move because he tied her to a chair. SLAP! He hit her so hard I thought he broke her neck. I started looking around for something to hit him with but I remembered the gun my mom hid just in case something like this happened. I crept away, holding my stomach going to the hidden cabinet not that far behind me. Dad was still yelling stuff like "I wish I had never married you!" Or "I hate you Martha! Go kill yourself!" To her, gripping her chin so she was looking at him. I had enough. I turned around and pointed the gun at him

"Hey! Poor excuse of a man that I call me father!"

He flipped around, I could see all the hatred in his eyes, BAM! I pulled the trigger and blood went all over the wall, splattering my mom in the process.

We finally escaped from him. His abuse; verbal, mental, physical; his threats to murder us slowly and painfully. He was a coward. Taking out his anger, fear, and guilt on us like that. Mom was even pregnant, she had miscarriages in the past. I guess that's what set him off. His grief.

I ran to mom and hugged her. We were both crying. Tears of joy and relief, that we had to put up with him for so long. She was mumbling thisngs like "You're so brave, my boy." Or "I'm sorry we had to put up with him for so long."

I have no regrets.

****

That was 9 years ago. I'm living with my mom and her new husband. I am so happy for her, I really liked the guy and I feel like he's good for her. She finally got over that man that I call my father and started dating again. They met a few years ago at the gym, they really hit if off, soon he asked her out on a date, and the rest is history. We just found out she is pregnant with a son. He will be their 5th, after my sister Claira, who's 9 and the triplets Bella, Ella, and Stella who are 7. Mom's due around the middle of April, I couldn't be more excited, but that also means I have to work harder, me and my step dad both bring in money, because mom can't work, and Dad was in an accident in the military, and had to get his back operated on and it hasn't been the same since. So I have to help with the money.

On another topic, it's August and school is going to start soon. Yay another miserable year where people leave me out, and are more scared of me than the mafia. I'm probably just exaggerating. Maybe.

“Rebeccah. Laura come down here, we need to talk” my Father yelled up the stairs from the living room

“Coming!” we shouted. I ran down the stairs a few seconds later to see my dad sitting on the couch his head in his hands. “Are you okay Daddy?” I asked, worry lacing my tone. He looks up

“Yes honey, I’ll be okay. Where is mom?” His voice sounds strained

“I don’t know. I’ll go get her.” I said, running back upstairs to get her. She was in the bathroom, the door unlocked. Something was in her hand as she was sitting on the floor, looking at it. “Hey mom. Me and Dad are waiting on you downstairs. Are you okay?” I give her a small smile, worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming.” She replies with a sad smile and slowly gets up from the ground. Once we were downstairs the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“I have something to say.” My mom and My Dad say at the same time.

“You go first.” My mom said.

“Okay.” he lets out a deep breath “You both know that I love you right?” He asked

“Yeah of course we know this, we say it to each other every day." I reply skeptically.

"Yeah." He scratches his neck "anyway I just needed to reassure myself." He sighs. He waited a few seconds, almost like he was gaining confidence. "I'm gay." Huh?!

"What?!" My mother says.

"I'm gay. I like men, not women. I've always known I was different, but never knew what it was. Now that I know, I will be moving out, and I'm telling you now so I wish for your support in my new look at life."

"Wow" Mom chuckles coldly "you tell us you're leaving and then ask for our support? No, we're not going to. I'm sorry Jared, but I just can't. Somehow I've always known, I just didn't want to admit it. I love you, but I just can't. I'm sorry, I really am. I mean 18 years of marriage and you're just now figuring this out?!" She raised her voice a little bit on the last sentence, her fists clenching.

At this point I was crying, I couldn't believe he's going to leave us. He can't. "How could you?" Angry, hot tears were rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't stay there. I ran upstairs to my room and cried for the rest of the night.

3 weeks later

Mom and I were coming home from the mall. Dad had moved out a few days after the confrontation. Mom hadn't had a girls day out in a while and she could really use one. We pulled up to the house to see Dad's car parked in the driveway. Oh no. He's been visiting twice a week and every time its ended up in one of us yelling at him, telling him to go home, or if he was missing us, then he shouldn't have left. But this time I couldn't shake the bad feeling In my gut.

We got out of the car, bags in hand, and went into the house. Mom went upstairs immediately to put her bags away. I had to go through the living room to get to my room. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

It was Dad. Hanging from the ceiling, by his neck. I froze immediately, not knowing what to do. The look on his face was the scariest. He was looking right at me, but he was dead, his eyes weren't moving, he wasn't breathing. I didn't know what to do, shock stilled my body.

I screamed. I screamed so loud, I felt my throat go raw. I was sure the glass In the windows was going to shatter. I completely broke down, sobs wracked my whole body. I dropped my bags resulting in a soft thud. I couldn't hear my mom. The only way I knew she was there was because she shook me slightly. But I didn't respond, my throat was too raw. I collapsed, my mom was on her knees leaning over me, a panicked look on her face.

Then everything went black.

****

I woke up in the hospital the next day. I replay that day over and over again, thinking about if we would have just accepted him for who he was, then it all would have been different. But somehow I couldn't. I couldn't have imagined it differently, like I couldn't get over it.

We decided that it was best to just move away from that town, from that traumatizing situation. I was only 12 at the time, going into junior high it wasnt that big of a change right? We ended up in San Francisco. For a new beginning. For a new reputation. For a chance to forget.

Even though we never will.

•¤¤¤¤¤•

A/N

Penny for your thoughts? : )

-McKayla