At the tender age of 7, I was living with the fact that my father had died and I would never see him again. My mother was a kind woman and provided for me as best she could. I suppose I was as happy as I could be, considering the loss, but that too had to end.
My father had racked up a rather large debt during his lifetime, his gambling habit was to blame, and my mother was left to deal with that. I was far too young and naive to understand how serious money was to grownups, so I hardly noticed my dear mother's panicky actions whenever there was a knock at the door. I just didn't realize how dangerous being in debt was.
When I awoke one morning to find the house was not filled with the smell of our usual morning biscuits, I knew something was wrong. When I found her I was not sure if she was alive or dead, but by the looks of it, she should've been. By the time I had ran to our nearest neighbors and returned with help, my mother had lost a considerable amount of blood. It was many hours later that I was finally told my mother wouldn't make it.
Even at my age, I felt disgust and hatred for how cruel human beings could be to one another. Still, there was little I could do at that time, but I planned on avenging my mother and the pain I would cause those who wronged us would be legendary.
 Pirate Eshe · Mon Feb 05, 2007 @ 07:00am · 0 Comments |
