I don't know how long ago it started and started to have this idea.
Looking at myself in front of me, I did it, but how could I feel this way ...
"The situation is not optimistic."
"Please, please! The doctor must rescue my son. I have only one child ..."
Mom, forget it. The kind of son who is going to die or not ...
Mom, stop crying, crying again, I feel guilty ...
I feel guilty, really.
...... Do you hear me?
It's ridiculous to think about it, and my guilt has long covered my whole body.
From a long, long time ago ...
... since those days.
"Please! Stop playing!" I don't understand.
"Dad! Stop!" Why?
I don't understand why my mother suffers this kind of reason for nothing?
I do n’t understand why my dad can hit my mom for no reason?
Why on earth?
Since I was very young, the impression of my father is not ordinary.
He is often away from home, and sometimes it takes days or even weeks to return home. And every time she comes back, it is always her, my mother.
I don't know what work my father is doing outside. I haven't asked, and I don't want to ask. The reason is that I'm still young.
But I know that every time my father returns home, he comes back with a different woman several times. Why didn't the mother see it?
Later I realized that she didn't see it, she turned a blind eye.
I remember once asking my mom, "What is Dad doing? Why is he often not at home?"
"Don't worry about that much!" She murdered me with a slap.
am I wrong?
I never asked again after that.
But I'm still curious, what kind of work makes my dad so stressed? When I get home, I have to take my mom as a punching bag, and after playing Diao Genyan, I'm happy to watch TV and laugh with my legs up?
"Mom, let me go to the police." Once, after hitting my mom with a wooden board, he went out.
I walked behind the door of the room, and every time my father used violence, I walked out of the door and lifted her up.
"No!" She shouted.
"How did we live after your father was taken away ..." she growled and cried.
"But mom, you have a lot of injuries ... Ah! Bleeding again!" I picked up the medicine chest and wiped her medicine.
"You won't understand ... you are too young ... don't understand ..." She growled louder and louder, tears kept flowing.
"But Dad hits you fiercely every time!" I shouted, "I wish he disappeared in this world!"
Slap--! "What do you say!"
She gave me a slap, it hurts, and the pain is not on her face, but in her heart.
I feel my face wet.
I cried, for the first time, in front of my mother.
Did you see it, dad?
Those hurts on my mother, crying alone behind the door ...
And this broken family.
did you see it?
What I said actually worked ... Dad really disappeared ...
That night, he died in a car accident.
It took more than just my father and my mother's husband.
It also took away the fatherly love I've longed for but never got, and the pillars of this home.
At that time, I was only eight years old.