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      Hate Killed Me    by Zhar                 Mar 2003

	Everyday, in and out, when daddy came home from work, it started.
The yelling.  The screaming.  My brother and me only heard it from our bedroom.
	But today was different.
	Not different, as in: they were nice to each other. God no! Different, as in: 
me and my brother weren’t tucked up in bed yet. 
	Dad walked in through the door, and came straight into the dinning, living area.
We both stared at him, as mom started to jump down his throat, about never being here.
	He looked at the half empty glass of vodka on the table and shouted at mom, "You 
have been drinking again"
	And at that, the glass went flying across the room, just centimetres from mommy’s 
head as she ducked. My brother started to crawl into the corner, screaming, "Stop it daddy…"
But it was no use at all…The yelling and bitching carried on. Getting louder and louder.
	"I will kill you… u bitch. 
	"You bastard. Why did I marry you? You are nothing…and blaaaablaaaaaablaaaaa"
And it goes on… as well as objects flying around the room. Glass lay shattered on the ground.
	And then I saw it… out of the corner of my eye. I froze; I had no time to dart out of the way…
The knife thrown by daddy, meant to hit mommy, had missed, and stabbed me instead.
	I then felt it--the blade--go right through my chest. I couldn’t scream out.
I just tumbled to the floor. 
	I laid there, bleeding and becoming numb. The voices of my parents still arguing were 
echoing in my head. My little brother, on all fours, slowly made his way towards me… telling me-- begging 
me--to open my eyes… shaking me… but I didn’t move, I just got colder.
	Then the screams stopped, as they realized I had died.
	What had killed me?
Deep down, it wasn’t the knife. Words of hate and spite are the reasons that I died!!!
                    ©2003