Smack smack slap everything everytime this is the only sound i received from my father, not praises not some encouraging words but punch and slap.

  You fcking piece of shit i told you bring me some liquor! ,that's the only i ask you when I'm the one feeding and clothing you useless for a son.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  This is how my days goes besides when I'm working to buy him some liquir or wondering the slum searching for something to eat.

  Sword puncturing flesh followed by silence is not the sound i was expecting to hear, looking to my father mouth filled with blood i feel some kind of sadness, fear and a slight joy that i should or shouldn't felt when looking at his bloodied chess with sword stick out of it.