Age 6

"Jackson! Son! Come 'ere!" Father yelled.

I dropped my building blocks on my room and stood up and went to Father who was in the kitchen.

The kitchen stinks.

"It's your fault!" Father screamed.

I started to shake.

Father never yelled at me like this before.

His vains on his neck popping out.

"Wh- what is?" I stuttered.

Father slammed the oddly shaped glass on the kitchen table.

"Your mother dying! God you're so stupid!" Father said.

My eyes began to water.

I missed mother.

It's been 1 month since the men buried her.

"It's all your fault no one can see her!" He screamed.

"B- but you said she was sick... And so did Aunt- Aunt Heather." I whispered.

Father chuckled.

"She's sick in her brain!"

How can someone be sick in their brain?

"And it was because of you being born! You fucked everything up for us!"

Father grabbed the glass and threw it at me.

I started to cry.

"Get out of my face! Go to your room! No food for a useless faggot like you!"

I ran to my room.

I cried and picked out the glass pieces I found in my hair and on my clothes.