A Child Called ‘It’

An extract from the book i am reading at the moment:

P.66 The kitchen became so quiet i could hear Father’s strained breathing. He gently placed his hand on my shoulder and said “Wait there, Tiger. I’ll see what i can do.” He returned a few minutes later, after trying to talk Mother out of her demand. By the saddened look on his face, i knew immediately who’d won.
I sat on a chair and picked the clumps of regurgitated hot dogs out of the bowl with my hand. Globs of thick saliva slipped through my fingers, as i dropped it in my mouth. As i tried to shallow, i began to whimper. I stared at Father who turned away to avoid my pain. At that moment i hated Mother to no end, but i hated Father even more. The man who had helped me in the past, just stood like a statue while his son ate something even a dog wouldn’t touch.”

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I’ve already read this before, but it amazes me.
How a child, boy, man has escaped so much pain.
It makes me wonder about how good my life really is, how i take the love and kindness of my family for granted.
I spend the majority of my time fighting with them, when i really should be thanking them, all day everyday.

I did something bad last night.

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