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Misery and the Beast.

Misery and the Beast.

By Sparks

I suppose I should warn you all before you read this ........ my story might not be the most exciting or scary or even the most thrilling you will ever read but it is however a story of despair and of sorrow and will not leave you with a happy ending. However it is worth reading to gather some sense of what I injured as a child.
I was born James Dunworth on the 23rd of July 1994 in the city of Dublin, Ireland. My mother died when was at the tender age of 3 and thus I never really knew her and to be honest I probably would even recognise her if I saw a photo of her now! But that is slightly off the point. My father raised me as an only child. To say the very least my father was 'passionate' about his work and never really had time for me. I was left a deer in the headlights for the entirety of my childhood as regards tackling any fears or worries I had ,and encouragement or support was not a thing I was given.
Baring that in mind , when I heard of the boy in the toilets my instinct kicked in and I pushed it to the back of my mind ,out of thought out of sight, I was only 7 and at that age we children believe everything we are told. Take for example Santa Claus -We are told he see's everything we do so we ought to behave in order to get our gifts come December and we believe it and take it as law.
There was supposedly a boy named Carl and he resented people so much every day he would hide in the toilets away from all teachers and students. The story states he felt superiority over the rest of his peers and even elders that he hid from them so he would not be judged or categorized. He spent 4 years of hiding there until on cold morning as her was hiding in the cubicle he slipped on the freshly mopped floor cracked his skull and died instantly. That was two years before I heard of his tale and ever since it was used as a horror story among students but was rarely discussed among the staff of the school.
Many more stories similar to this circulated in the few years changing every time I heard them. I did the only thing I knew ,I blocked them out. But dont assume I didnt approach my father about them for you see every time he pushed me away. I was isolated ,alone ,angry.
I distinctly remembere walking into his study one afternoon when I was ten to ask him for help with my sums. I sat down beside him and he stared at me for somtime before he spoke. In that time I observed my surroundings ,it was very seldom I got the courage to go into his study while he was working ,I considered walking out again. But he spoke quite abruptaly before I could leave . 'What do you want James?' he questioned sharply. My stomach churned 'I need help with my 'I stuttered he looked at me with a face of disappointment ,had I done something wrong? 'James what have I said about help? Well? Help is for uneducated people.You,James, are a educated person.Now get out boy I must work!' I left with rage building up inside. Rage I coudlnt control.Rage I could understand.
I could not leave the house because he locked the doors as soon as I walked into the house. I became increasingly angry as the years went by staring out the windows at the children playing and having fun. Looking out in the winter at families making snowmen and carrolling .Looking out at the families in October trick-or-treating together ,having fun.Looking out at the families in the Summer having waterfights and having fun. Being locked up like that does things to people , things that cut wounds into a person,deep wounds which cannot be healed no matter how hard you try.
Years of this treatment went by until my 20th birthday.He forgot ,again. I remember as a child he would come out of his office regularly but now he only came out to go to bed or go to a conference. I had no life because of this and was an angry ,angry person. I mean woudln't you be too. If you were neglected in the way I was trust me you would be. I had had enough I went down into the basement where my bedroom was I reached behind the hot water tank and took out a large metal case. IT had been there so long it was rusted all over and was covered in dust but inside lay a gun. A gun that I was to take a life with ,a gun that would end my misery. I had found the case in the basement when my Dad put me down there so he could use my room to store his files. But little did he know that was a mistake and it was to cause him more misery and suffering than he would ever know.
Steadily I picked up the gun feeling its weight in my hands. For once I was in control and this story was going to end the way I wanted it to. For years I had been planning it but now , more than ever I felt as though I needed to do it. I slowly walked up the creaking stairs and walked down the hallway until I was standing outside my dads study. I didnt need to check if he was in there ,he always was. I positioned the gun and pushed open the door . I saw him sitting there scowling at me as if he was about to tell me off for what I was about to do. I knew that face all too well .I saw it every time I looked at him. I pulled back the trigger and shot him. I felt nothing but the impact of the gun ,no emotion,no sound just the power. It was over. My years of suffering over in a flash. I turned my back and walked out of the house .He was dead I killed him.

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1 Nov, 2010
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