Boys With Their Toys
Editing thanks to techsan and jazzygrirlinNC mistakes are my fault Fourteen years ago. I am in our family living room. My head hurts from where my mother hit it with a table lamp. My father is lying on the floor, gasping for air. My mother walks over to the fireplace and picks up the poker. Mother says, ‘You two have held me back long enough. That ends today.’ Mother walks over by me toward my father. I am scared but I unfold my pocketknife, and when I have my mother’s back I stab her on the...