《War Orphan》Chapter 8: Unexpected
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Nate has been living a quite average life despite being slightly smarter than the average kid his age (15)
Even though he skipped a class he'd still been able to acquire some friends, he even considered himself popular and a little mature.
That all changed though, once his mother remarried.
At first he was delighted for her, thinking she might feel better for the first time after his father died but he deeply regretted it later.
Being the lone kid, Stan tried to earn his blessing with silly toys and awful jokes but Nate didn't mind.
I can suffer a bit for my mother, after all if she's happy I'm happy
He definitely didn't expect the sudden change in personality after they finally married.
Stan revealed his true colors, abusing Nate into becoming an athlete because he "couldn't bare to have a useless nerd for a son"
Stan had never had an education, he straight out relied on his muscles for everything.
Apparently that was exactly what he wanted Nate to do too.
That was when the gates of hell opened in front of Nate:
*Nate POV*
"I already did two laps! You saw me!" I said furiously panting even though I knew my words wouldn't convince him.
"Son, you'll have to learn one day that you could always push harder, and until you do, you won't be going anywhere!
I always shudder when I says *son. He disgusts me as he definitely doesn't deserve to call me *son like my real father did.
I ran six laps that day and I would've ran more if I didn't freaking faint on the last run.
It was well and good with my mother though, for her little anger was smart and athletic too! Well a dream come true isn't it!?
Except now I didn't have any friends as I didn't have any time for them and I was already declining in grades.
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I couldn't even complain about it to anyone.
Even since Stan came into my life I've been living off anger. I consumed it to regain my energy doing exercises, it kept me warm at night when I was exhausted from lifting weights and most of all, it kept me alive.
My body couldn't handle that much abuse
I was angry at Stan, at my mother and at myself.
It was only a matter of time till I snapped.
And I did, one afternoon.
Stan was in a really bad mood for no reason whatsoever so of course he thought to relieve himself by his favorite pass time: yell at me for not doing enough pushups.
Ironically, I was also in a really bad mood and that was because my crush, Amy actually confessed to me. It was the most magical moment of my life but it barely lasted a minute because we couldn't agree on the date's time for my whole schedule was filled with working out.
She thought I was politely saying "no"
You could imagine how pissed off I was without explaining.
And for the first time I effectively replied with a "no" to Stan unafraid of what I might face.
He shouted some words that I couldn't care to understand and continued on my way to the bedroom. I was too numb to care
He shouted louder, but I just shrugged it off.
He was cursing i realized. Just then, I unleashed the beast inside me.
I turned around and punched him right in the face.
My mother screamed.
Stan looked at me with an unbelievably surprised face.
I punched him again.
She was running towards me now, but I didn't want to stop yet, so I did something I would regret for the rest of all my life.
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I punched her too.
There was no controlling me now, I was consumed by anger and it was moving my body with me watching it from afar: punching, yelling and choking.
I killed Stan, and I enjoyed every second of it.
But I kept punching, making me covered with his blood until I felt a heavy blow on the back of my head. My mother had hit me but I didn't blame her for I did just kill her husband after all…
She hit me again, and again. The third time was the last but it didn't matter. I was dead, killed by my own mother.
I was numb through it all, and all I could think of was my father.
My real father, William. He died in the war when I was ten.
He was the one that left me alone but even though I try very hard, I couldn't blame him.
I just felt sad at being the War Orphan.
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