3-14-07

When I finally realized what I was doing, I was holding a gun to his head, screaming at the top of my lungs. I had lost control of everything.
"Just calm down," he began to beg, "let's talk rationally."
I could feel my blood boiling.
"I tried that before, but you wouldn't shut up. You yelled at me for not accepting what you did as something I should be grateful for. You got mad at me for defending the person I care about more than anything else in this world after your bullshit little drunken stunt, so here we are. This was the only thing that I could imagine getting through to..."
"You didn't..."
"Shut up," I shrieked, "I don't give a fuck! Do you understand that, asshole? I don't care what he said to you a damn year ago. You get what you give, just like what you're getting right now."
That was the day I snapped. I just couldn't live with the knowledge that my own father had taken from me the man I loved. I didn't care that he thought he was protecting me. All I knew that day was the hatred that had started to consume me. All I knew was that I had vowed to avenge my love at all costs.