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The other day... I finnaly fell asleep at around 2am, but my dad came into my room and screamed at me for no reason. My mom tried getting my dad away from my room...it wasn't working. I asked my dad nicely "Can you please get out of my room?" and I kept asking, each time more irratated. He screamed with a devil's smile on his face "NO".
So pissed at how I barely sleep and my drunk-on-air father comes into my room and screams at me... I'M TIRED OF IT!
I screamed now "GO AWAY!" I raised my hand and scratched him very hard on his stomach, but once I did...I stopped. I felt some sort of pitty(...how pathetic). If I didn't held back, I would've avoided his attack...
He punched me... it hurt doesn't hurt if carry too much anger... I grabbed his hand and scratched him again with the goal of making him bleed. My attack only got his arm. My mom finally broke the fight and brought him to his room. (if the reason why he's here wasn't so powerful, I'd kill him...but I'm not the only one with that goal...) After my mom calmed him down at his room my mom gave me some medicine to make me sleep.
*The next day, my mom left for work and I woke up sick with a feaver... (I shouldn't of let her give me medicine.) Fortunately, my father had already left for work when I woke up. I didn't want to see any sight of him that day.
*today, I had to see him... as long as he doesn't bother me, I'd be okay. Well before he left for work today, he said "look what you did to me." he showed me the marks of my nails in his skin, making scars. I turned my head "ok, bye." I had no regrets...except for crying over it.