Rage

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My parents and I get along most all of the time. It’s been that way ever since I can remember.
One day, I was bouncing a ball in the house to make my sister not be able to hear the television. She told my Dad, then my Dad told me to stop.

“STOP IT!”

I heard my Dad, but I kept doing it. Most of the time it would be no big deal, but he had been going through a lot of problems and a lot of stress.

“GIVE ME THAT BALL!”

I started to go out the front door and was going to play basketball. But my Dad, got in front of the door and told me to give him the ball.

I turned around, and was going to go out the back door- at that point he was unusually mad. He raised his voice when I was almost to the backdoor.
“GIVE ME THAT BALL! DO YOU HEAR ME??”
I bounced the ball as hard as I could on the floor and it hit the ceiling. I caught the ball but my Dad grabbed it too and ripped it out of my hands and told me.

“DON’T MESS WITH ME!!!!”

That was strange because my parents have never done that before. They were always calm and I’ve never seen them yelled at me.

There were four rows of new windows all leaned up against each other about to replace my windows in my room. I put my first throw every single one of them in one swing.

I breathed heavily through my noise. I felt my hand was painful. It was bleeding…

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