I could see the big wide fist coming from above. I saw that with the corner of my eye. My father's masculine and thick arm all stretched out, accelerating towards my cheek. I closed my eyes and stretched my muscles in order to soften the blow of his fist. I had my methods ... The blow was still overwhelming and had knocked me down to the floor, blood streaming from my nose.
"That should be learning experience for you, Billy boy" My father shouted "I hope it is the last time I find your toys scattered all around on the floor. I almost broke my leg slipping on one of your cars. Now go to your room".
I had had many learning experiences like that. I had gone to sleep without dinner more times than I care to remember. I had been hit in any possible place and with a variety of tools. I was forced to shove my face into the ground and stay like that for long periods of times. What can I say, I have been a bad boy.
The worse learning experiences I had had were when dad came back from the pub. His clothes were reeking of beer and stained with blood and vomit. I felt ashamed because it had made me hate my father though I knew these were merely learning experiences.
--Time's up--
>>This time it is important for me to stress out that this is 100% FICTION. The inspiration came from many books and articles I've read and movies I've seen. Both my parents are great persons and I love them dearly. My parents - like me - do not drink. Not even social drinking !!!
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