Tears | Prequel To Pyrrhia HighSchool

Ten years ago

Darkstalker's pov:

Ten years ago....
I am seven years old, drawing a picture of me and my family.

I mostly scribbled my drawings down because I know that mummy would always love them, but daddy.... I don't know.

Once I was done, I ran out of my room and went down the stairs.

"Mummy, mummy! Look what I drew!" I shouted, excited.

I shoved the drawing in her face and she laughed.

"That looks amazing! Go show daddy what a beautiful artist you are!" she said.

I ran to dad, but hesitant he would even look at it.

"Um, daddy, look what I did for you and mummy."

He looked away from the newspaper he was reading and looked at the drawing.

"What the hell is that!? Am I supposed to be that fat blob!?" he hissed.

"W-well~"

"No, Darkstalker, no, listen to me and listen good!" he grabbed my ear, "You need to be better, you need to not be the little worthless child you are right now! Can you do that for daddy?"

I nodded, holding back my tears, otherwise if they fell, father would shout even more.

"S-Sorry...."

"Now go back to your room and read like your sister does! That'll make you shut up!"

I fought the tears back that were begging to fall out of my eye as I ran upstairs.

I sat on my bed, just staring at the picture I had drawn.

Rage took over me and I tore the paper into tiny little bits.

I hadn't ripped the part of the picture where my father was, so I just gazed angrily at that little piece of paper.

I sneaked down the stairs, grabbed a knife from the kitchen and went back to my room.

Once I was there, I stabbed my father's chest in the picture over and over again, causing me to cry and scream.

"WHATS GOING ON UP THERE!?" Dad bellowed.

I didn't stop, I kept stabbing and stabbing into the picture until the paper ripped.

I saw I had left little holes in my desk from all the stabbing but I didn't care.

I had let all my rage out on the picture, so I started to calm a little.

That was only the beginning.

The beginning where I had lost my supposed to be amazing, fun child hood.

The beginning of loosing my sanity.

~~~~~~~~~~

One year later...

I was in third grade when I beated up my first victim.

Back when I was that age I would be the bully, the one that bashed up kids one year younger than me and sometimes a bit older.

Sometimes I would do it for no reason, other times I would do it when ever they tried to confront me.

I would laugh at their attempts which always failed. There fore, I would beat them up until they never even looked at me again.

My one and only friend Fathom, also didn't like what I did, but never dare confront me.

Me and him had been friends since preschool. He was the only person I could trust. The only person I told my secrets and problems to.

But over time, I would start treating him, not so friendly.