I could hear his distinctive footsteps ascend up the staircase. I hid in the safety of my bedroom wardrobe, praying he wouldn’t find me. Each creak grew louder. His footsteps getting closer. The tiny chink of light issuing from the gap between the doors, now blocked by a tall, towering figure. My body numbed, my mouth dried, the cold sweat trickled down my frozen cheek, the shivers shook down my spine. He found me.
    “RYAN! Why haven’t you done the dishes yet?” he shrieked. His iron grip pierced the skin on my scrawny arm as I was thrown out of the wardrobe, smacking hard against the concrete wall. His hand of steel swiftly struck me silently across the face, the pain unbearable. Cheek stinging violently, blood flooding my mouth; I collapsed onto the grey, dusty carpet, shaking the house’s foundations. The image of his furious, red face consumed my mind before I fell into the black abyss of darkness. Oh Father…
What happened to Daddy? Daddy, who loved and cared for me. The one that came home from work full of energy and happiness, glad to help me with schoolwork, play football, and to comfort me when I was upset. The one that made me glow with pride to be his son, my goal in life was to be just like him. He was the only person I had to look up to, the only person I ever needed.
   Then it changed.
   Daddy became addicted to vodka, which transformed him into Father. Nasty, horrid, evil Father. If he lost his horseracing bet, he would take out his stress by playing his favourite game, ‘Punch bag Ryan’, which always calmed him enough for another bottle of booze. He was like a raging bear beating me up until I was unconscious. “You’re nothing but a burden! If you weren’t born your mum would still be alive! You lousy, good-for-nothing piece off…” I don’t want to think about it. These kinds of insults were a daily occurrence and lost all meaning to me.
   Scars have been cut deep inside me, mentally and physically. The wounds are forever drifting in my skull, continuously piercing my tender brain with memories of agony and misery. My mind screams inside, begging me to end my pain. The plea rattled harshly in my head, unwilling to stop. Fed up with life. I hollowed my body, froze my heart. I’ve learnt not to feel fear, sorrow, anger, and even love. Now able to clear my thoughts, and bear each day as it comes.
   I wonder, after five years living like this, how much more can I take?
   I wonder, what made me lose it? It was like any other fight, yet. I did it…
   I dropped the metal bat in my hand, which landed next to the body of Father. His large, muscular figure stood out against the once cream carpet, now soaked in the scarlet water of life. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful, unknown to the fact he would never wake from this drunken sleep. The empty bottle of vodka, still clenched tightly in his fist. I’ve finally killed him.
   No tears escaped my eyes, no heartstrings pulled. I felt nothing for him anymore. The moon frowned down in disgust at my heartlessness outside the filthy window.
     I saw my reflection in the mirror. Specks of blood glistened on my pale skin, my white shirt stained, red. My straight, black hair covered my eyes, one peeking through. An empty, cold, grey eye.
   I’m now free. I vow to make the best out of my life.
     How wrong I was…
     Seeing my reflection in the mirror ten years later, I see a tall, skinny lad of twenty- three. My long, black leather jacket contrasted with my ghostly pale skin, which sparkled with splatters of blood, ruining its flawlessness. My spiky, jet-black hair curtained my eyes from view, an eye just peeking through. An empty, cold, grey eye. It’s been so long, yet, I’m still the same person.
    In this small room I could smell the fresh kill. My heavy breathing echoed through the house, breaking the deafening silence. I could taste the blood on my palate, a flavour I’ve known all my life. The cold, metal dagger between my long fingers was slowly growing warm from the sudden friction against flesh and bone it just received. Two bodies lay before me, dead. They were too easy to kill for me, an infamous assassin.
    I carefully wiped the crimson blood off my trusty dagger, my only friend. Swallowing hard, I then descended into the night, vanishing beneath the moon. My job is done.