Excerpt from the book I'm writing, titled: Love & Life.

"I know, but I want you to know that I've been through worse then you so I know how you feel."
"Well can you tell me about it now?"
"Yeah, I can. When I was eleven things weren't going good with my parents. They fought every night. My father was very frightening and one night he hit my mother, punched her in the jaw and broke it instantly. I saw the whole thing from the top of the staircase. He hit her with all his strength and she fell hard to the ground slamming her head on the table on her way down. He stood there watching her bleed from the head, he did nothing just stood there and watched. I did nothing, I sat at the top of the steps sobbing. I should of called 911, I should of saved her, but I didn't. I let her die. That has stayed with me forever and I can never forgive myself. I let my mother die. I let her lay on the floor and bleed to death. I could of saved her." He started to sob, and I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't know what I could do. I sat there for a second just looking at him and then I got up and sat next to him. I put my arms around him and hugged him gently. He looked up at me and half smiled. I wiped a tear from his face and kissed his cheek. "I'm

sorry that I'm such a mess. Give me a second and I'll finish."
"It's OK. Take as long as you need." We sat there for a minute with my arms around him and his head resting in between my shoulder and my chest. He was still crying but not as hard as before.
"OK, I'm alright now. I'll keep going. So my mom died that night. Her funeral was three days later and my father didn't even go. He stayed home getting drunk. When my grandma dropped me off at my house after the funeral she kissed my forehead and opened the door, we saw my father laying on the floor passed out. She told me to be careful and she would call to check on me later. I closed door as she pulled away and I just stood there looking at my father. I hated him for killing my mother, The person that meant the most to me in the world. I needed to get back at him, I had to get back at him. I couldn't deal with knowing he killed my mother. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a big steak knife. I came back out of the kitchen holding it in my hand. My hand was shaking uncontrollably and my dad was up now and he was looking at me. I charged at him screaming and stabbed him in the stomach. He screamed in pain, I pulled the knife back out and stabbed him again. I stabbed him fifteen times. I wanted to make sure he was dead. He deserved to be dead after what he did. I left my house, I didn't know what to do. Once I got far enough away I called police and reported a murder anonymously so they didn't know who I was. The police went to my house and searched all over and because I was eleven and not to smart I left the knife
laying on the floor next to my dad so the police were able to identify me and I was put in juvie. I was there until last year.

Learn more about this author, Amanda F.
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