Chapter Three: Bad Boy

I began to hate mother. Father, he tried to warn me, telling me to "be a good boy." At the same time, I just wanted to be with mother and please her. Like the one summer when she dropped me off at Aunt Josie's home; I had tried to run away. That was the wrong thing to do. No matter what I tried to say to mother she just keep punching and beating me. Kids would come over who were in her Cub Scout, telling me that they wished their mothers were just like mine, I could even respond to that. They had no idea was mother did. Then the day came when I beat mother, when I won. She was out to kill, swearing at me that I made her life a living hell. As soon as she turned that gas stove on I knew I had to do something, anything, to stay alive. She started bashing in my head - but that was ok! It's what I wanted, anything besides that. I had won. She would yell at me, telling me I was a "bad boy." I just wanted the bad times to go away... i wanted to bury them.