Author's Note: an edited, shorter, lesser rated version has be used in a contest, but this is the original from which the piece is written.
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For years, these walls have been my only sanctuary from the evils of the world outside. I knew my mother was right when she told me that here in this room, I would be safe, so I didn't understand why she never came with me when he came home, drunk and swearing. I never understood why she put up with his violent attitude, harsh language, and ceaseless belittling, yet she did. I guess it must have been going on before I was born, but I don't remember it happening before my second birthday.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhQz7qMN1KP
He came home, smelling of cheap booze. It was a smell I learnt to recognize with ease as I grew older. Mother ushered me into my room, pointing to the closet. I didn't understand her reasoning, yet I hid where she instructed, peaking through the door as the fight unfolded before my eyes.I saw him strike her again, and again. I was too scared to exit the small space, too scared to do anything, so I covered my ears, not wanting to hear the yelling, crying, or cursing that was occurring outside, because inside these walls I was safe from the war outside. And as the years crawled by, I spent more and more time being nothing more than invisible, hidden inside the safe haven that he wouldn’t touch, wouldn’t enter. I stayed in place until the battle was over. He never had to tell me not to say a word to anyone, his look told me all I needed to know.That was life back then, the dark secret I tried so hard to hide from my peers and teachers, not that it was really ever that hard. No one ever bothered to ask and I never attempted to tell.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVaY8CjoBgd
I'm thirteen now, and the war still goes on outside my door, and every time I hide in the safety of my closet, safe from his rage. Tonight would be different, because no longer would I let Mother be a victim, no longer would she suffer. I know that the news would try to pass me off as a monster, murderer, but they wouldn't see the truth, the truth that villains choose the dark side when they are tired of being victims of the light. You see, the safety of the light is nothing more than an illusion of safety, when in reality safety is nothing more than a myth.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDCWzzYqcpD
For years, I've lived the lie that he built, sheltered inside this cage that he called a house. I played the part he assigned me in his play, learning to act happy, sad, or angry in all the right places, despite feeling nothing. I played the good, well behaved son. I played football and basketball, make decent grades, and still managed to live a lie, for the sake of a man who would never love me. For years I've kept quiet, but this has gone on too long, and someone has to do something.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFXV8zZKHZX
If standing up for someone who is defenseless is villainous and makes me the bad guy, I'll accept that. Because really, who gets to decide who the villain is, and who the hero is? There's two sides to every story. To my mother, I will become a hero, but in the eyes of the law I will be a villain, a common criminal. I won't say I didn't do it, but I will say he deserved what I plan to do the moment he steps through those doors. I'm not a little boy anymore, and I'm done hiding while the rest of the world watches and mocks my mother, never defending her. Tonight, things will be different. I'm a man now, and tonight I'm playing villain. 579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRQXOAIo9DW
Here he is now, stepping through the doorway. I pick up the phone, dial three numbers,and put it on speaker. I know that as the curtain falls, I will hear the sound of sirens, see the flashing lights of blue, and know that I will turn myself over to them, adding my name to the list of murderers throughout our nation's history. So, who will write the newspaper article about me? Will they write me as a victim of a dysfunctional family? Or as a hero? No, most likely they will write me as a villain, though the true villain's story has be silenced forever.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeQLd1XAHYz
It doesn’t take long to do the deed, embedding the knife deeply into his back. I see the betrayal on his face, the shock that his only son could do such a thing to him. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in my life, I truly felt alive. There was something mesmerizing about watching the blood flow down the blade onto the handle of the very knife he had given me just two days earlier, on my birthday. The crimson liquid looks so good on that blade, almost as if it was painted there. 579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡClIpuJUVdZ
The struggle didn’t last long, though his anguished cry of pain was heard on the phone. I can hear the 911 emergency operator say something, but his words barely registered. I just stand there, staring until the flashing blue lights outside catch my eye. I could try to run, but instead I sit. I’m proud of what I did, and will take credit where credit is due.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwHhCkXE6Nr
Things are a blur. An officer with gloves on picks up the knife, placing it in a bag. Another officer places handcuffs on me, but I say nothing to them. I turn to the man, whose life has departed him, and I smile.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE8q2aXhLF3
“Goodbye, Grandfather.”579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAAGMrcUDqH
They put me in the police vehicle, but i pay no attention to the ride. They take me inside a building. I hear voices, though my vision has long since stopped, until the only things I see is his body, lying lifeless on the ground, as if it were tattooed to my eyes.The words they speak barely register.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3y7enR9F2e
“..psychotic break….”579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzhu6NnCN3j
“...he’s crazy…”579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡY8HPSxImHH
and then, the term I knew would come up eventually was spoken, but by the one person who I thought would understand why I did what I did.579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOlnqTcebA5
“Murderer!”579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeTzhTiyDe9
It was my mother’s voice, whose single word cut so deeply. Can’t she see I had did all of this for her? No, she couldn’t, I realised. She was a victim of his games, games that had been played years before I was born. To her, he would always be Daddy when alone, and Jim in the presence of company. She was thirteen when I was born, yet no one seemed to care. Even my own mother saw me as the villain. Was that the truth? Was I as evil as they believed me to be? I saw myself as a hero, but was I delusional? 579Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAf8HPnx7Um
I had always been told the world was black and white, but now I see the colors that he had long since tried to hide from me; the greys. I was both a hero and a villain, and only I understood that. My mother could only see the life that she must have known all her life, but I had saved her. No more would he hit her, no more would she wear black eyes and bruises from his fist. One day she will thank me, and until that day comes, I will play the villain.
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