--15 Years Ago--
"Shut your mouth! Are you some kind of faggot who always has to cry?!"
The feeling of wood cracking on my back as I stood at attention for my father, the thin rod he had picked up from the carpentry kit breaking after repeatedly lashing at my back. That was a bad sign, the rod wasn't as bad as some of the other things he had nearby, but since it broke he'd always grab something a bit sturdier. The sound of metal slicing through the air affirmed by fears followed by a burst of stars in my eyes as pain turned my vision blurry. My back was a crisscross of welts and broken skin, the latest strike leaving a tear in the skin as cold metal struck hot, fragile skin. I made the mistake of falling to my knees, this only made him angrier, he didn't like having to move from his chair to hit me. I covered my head with my arms, curling into a heap, trying to protect my face and head as best as I could before he started to violently lash out at me for making him have to work harder at beating me.
A few minutes later the real torture began.
"Get the fuck up! I didn't say you could sit down you fucking faggot piece of shit! Do you know what you did?! FUCKING ANSWER ME!"
I gasped for air, the pain causing my lungs to spasm, leaving me unable to breathe properly as I struggled to stand. I could feel the blood on my back slowly drizzling down my calves, strangely cold despite the fact that it should have been warm. My eyesight had become fucked up as they usually did when I became stressed, everything looked so far away, my hands seemed to shrink and stretch into the floor that was miles away. I could barely understand what he was yelling at me, but I couldn't understand what he wanted me to say. I hadn't done anything that should have warranted this kind of reaction considering I had just got back home from middle school. Today was a good day, no one at school tried to pick a fight with me, nor did any of the teachers single me out for class work. Today was a good day.
"ARE YOU FUCKING IGNORING ME YOU FAGGOT PIECE OF SHIT?!"
His screams were followed by the whistling slice of metal through the air as he struck my trembling arms. The metal bar that serves as a lock on his tool chest slammed into my arms causing them to give out, meaning I was on the ground again, which only further infuriated him. I don't know what I did wrong, but I didn't care anymore. I told him whatever he wanted to hear, that's all I remember aside from the burning hate in my heart that I couldn't kill him because he was so much bigger than me.
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--Present Day--
Daniel stared at his computer monitor, his eyes not really seeing what was there as memories of his past assailed him. He had been watching a video on Youtube that was slightly disturbing. It was one of those videos that you didn't know how the hell you got there, but you would watch it anyway because you had nothing better to watch. It was a claymation video that portrayed a family, they seemed happy until the two-minute mark. The father was beating on his kids after arguing with his wife, the mother was drinking alone in the master bedroom crying. It was as if someone had captured my life before my father got sick in claymation. I shuddered, feeling as if someone was watching me.
Closing the video out, I walked over to the small kitchenette in my apartment, trying my best to forget that feeling as I rummaged for sustenance. Leftovers from lunch became dinner after a quick whirl in the microwave, I hated wasting food, especially when I cooked it myself. Three minutes later, sitting in front of my computer again with some movie playing I had mostly forgotten about that creepy ass video when my doorbell rang. I sat there for a while, trying to figure out if there was someone I should be expecting, but couldn't come up with an answer. My neighbors were like me in the regards that we didn't socialize with each other except for the bare minimum when we bumped into each other. My family, or what was left of it, had all gone their separate ways in the wake of my mother's death. We definitely didn't get mail delivered to our apartment, and even if we could I wouldn't what with it being so easy to just walk down the corridor and into another apartment with someone else's stuff.
The doorbell sounded again, so I stood up. Nothing to it other than to check the peephole. Looking into the small glass piece, I found the hallway devoid of any movement or person. Thinking it likely a kid's prank I walked back to my computer and just before sitting the doorbell rang again. I stomped over to the door, angry. Fucking kids these days had no respect. Stopping with my hand on the doorknob I waited. When the doorbell rang, I swung the door inward yelling.
"The hell do you thi-"
I stopped short when I was greeted by the seemingly empty hallway. My foot bumping into a medium sized parcel left in front of my door. A small card was the only thing that could be seen on the heavily taped brown parcel.
From, Dad.