Her Forbidden Fight

Max P.O.V

“The night was cold, numbingly so. The wind blew so loud you couldn't help but hear it screaming as it beat against the sides of our small house.”

“Our house, well actually more like a condo was small. it was one story with a small kitchen, sitting room, one bathroom so small you could sit on the crapper and brush your teeth at the same time, and two bedrooms.”

“ That night mom was passed out on the couch clinging to the only things in the world that meant anything to her. She was surrounded by beer bottles on other sides and instead of her only son she cradled the bottle in her arms as she slept.”

“You see, your only purpose boy is to earn us welfare and tax cuts” She told me that one night before walking off with a quick ‘goodnight’

“My mother’s name was Anna Marie Ross. The irony of her marriage to my father being that he was originally her pimp and somehow they figured out they could make more money married. Mother was pretty with her long blonde hair and green eyes. Too bad she was a whore.”

“Mother never worked per say. Every day she would stay home to ‘care for me.’ As soon as dad left the house the men started to show up or she would go out. She brought many of them home and I wondered constantly how stupid my father actually was not to notice. Sometimes I wish maybe that his stupidity might have lasted a little longer.”

“Sorry I got off topic there. On the night my mother died I was in my room playing with my dog. I found him on the street and brought him home in hopes of saving him, or maybe more selfishly I wanted a friend. Either way no one noticed.”

“ my father had already left for ‘work’ witch is a bullshit way of saying he was a drug dealer addicted to his job quite literally. I remember sitting in my room that night with the dog starring at the clock wondering why he was late. Secretly hoping in my 5 year old mind that maybe he got eaten by something scary, well at-least scarier then him.”

“It was the first night in weeks I hadn't been thrown out the window, or at the wall. No the ass didn’t even make the effort to punch me he just threw me places when he got home from work as a ‘hello son’ welcome.”

“That thought was ruined when good old dad jumped through my window in my room and grabbed me by my hair covering my mouth. The dog didn’t even get to bark before my dad shot him. With a glare that could melt hell he threw me out the window and I ran off to the sound of a gun going off and the silencing of my mothers screams.”