After that belt triggered that gruesome and traumatic event I had to deal with at a relatively young age, I couldn’t help but look at my dad without resenting him. Although he’s changed now and hasn’t hit me in years, I just can’t seem to erase what he’s done to me. I was terrified when I went to school the day he hit me, and that’s mainly because my classmates noticed bruises around my eye. I was so self-conscious I couldn’t even bring myself to look in the mirror. A couple of close friends asked me how I got them, and I had to lie and say I fell down to cover up the internal shame I was feeling. What happens at home is something I often feared would end up out in public.
I’d hate to blame my parents for how fucked-up and ruined I’ve grown up to become, but it is what it is. I wasn’t always that way. I was happier when I was younger, but they’ve changed me when they started to neglect me and treat me differently. When I became a teenager, they counted on me to grow into someone they admired, a person they hoped I’d become since the moment I was conceived, but my failure to live up to their high standards caused them to switch their attention to Rosamunde, who, admittedly, was doing much better than I was. My parents’ contempt is what I unequivocally consider as the reason behind the start of my inevitable downfall.
Today, my dad asked me to pour him a large glass of beer while he watched the football game, and I did. However, before giving him the drink, I reconsidered everything and told myself he didn’t deserve my courtesy. I went to the bathroom and peed in it without regretting it one bit. I don’t care if I’m dwelling too much on him whipping me and using that as an excuse to avenge myself on different occasions. I mean, there’s always a reason for wanting revenge. Hating and resenting someone isn’t something you feel out of the blue. The whipping wasn’t even the reason behind what I did. It’s the frequent verbal abuse I had to put up with all these years. I’m perfectly capable of acting like I’m fine, like I’ve forgotten. But here’s the thing about me: I never — ever — forget.
Felix Eberstark 