On the tenth day after writing the first note, Brother Long wrote his second note. In this diary, he revealed the truth about the fact that Brother Long killed his father.
The earliest memory in my life is of being beaten. In my memory, I don’t know why my father hit me that day, and I can’t remember how old I was that day. I only remember that he grabbed my hair with his left hand, pressed me on his knee, and held me down.
I took off my pants and slapped my ass with his big hand.
I don’t remember whether it hurt or whether I shed tears. I just remember that I opened my mouth wide and breathed desperately, shouting loudly, mom, mom, mom...
That time was the only memory I had of my mother. From then on, I always tried to avoid the word and forced myself not to think about her. When I saw a woman with her child, I turned my head to the side. When I heard someone
When the child called her mother loudly, she would run away quickly. This knot lasted until I met her and gave birth to a child with her.
Dad is a good dad.
He would wake me up every day after he had made breakfast or bought it. The uniforms I wore when I went to school were clean every day. They were washed by him after he woke up drunk in the middle of the night. I was never short of new ones.
For toys, my father always took me to the toy counter of the department store during my break. As long as we didn’t have any at home, we would buy them home and play together. My father taught me how to play chess and calligraphy from the first day of school.
, my handwriting is the best in the class.
Seeing that I was injured, my father would shed tears of distress. He would clean my wounds carefully, apply red liquid on them, and then bandage them carefully. Unfortunately, most of these wounds were caused by him.
If he didn't drink, he would be the best dad in the world.
He has a bad ability to drink. He gets drunk when he drinks, and goes crazy when he gets drunk. When he gets crazy, he yells at stupid men and women, and starts to beat me while cursing and cursing. He is not the kind of parent who beats his children because he hates them, but is irrational.
, slapped across the head and face.
If he just slapped my ass and slapped my face, I think I could hold back from crying, but he didn't! He used whatever he caught, wine glasses, wine bottles, bowls, plates, benches, etc.
Kitchen knife. He seemed to hit me with his eyes closed, never caring whether he hit my head, arms, legs, or body. He seemed to hit me with his eyes open, because he could always hit me every time.
He would always beat me until he was exhausted, and then he would fall asleep on the bed. I would either run away to the street, or hide under the bed, in a cupboard, or behind a door.
The day he hit me for the last time was actually quite happy. It was a school holiday, and he went to the school gate to pick me up and take me home. When I showed him the certificate for being a good student, he happily raised me above his head.
We spun around in circles until we fell to the ground laughing.
We went to the department store together, and he bought me the remote-controlled four-wheel drive I dreamed of as a prize. We also went to the amusement park to play bumper cars and ride a roller coaster. Finally, I sat on the back seat of his bicycle and walked around with him.
Went to the vegetable market and bought ribs, beef in sauce, tomatoes and potatoes, and of course wine.
When I got home, while he was cooking, I started assembling the remote control four-wheel drive car. I installed the body, wheels, and gears one by one, but the car's motor couldn't be installed. So I shouted loudly to the kitchen.
He is busy here.
"Dad, Dad, come here and help me fix this motor."
"Wait a minute, I'll be ready here soon. Let's play together after dinner." Dad turned to look at me with his apron on and said with a smile.
While eating, I saw him bring the wine bottle to the dining table, and immediately shrank to a corner of the dining table, staring at him with frightened eyes. He smiled when he saw my scared look, and opened the bottle while talking to me.
I said:
"Come on, come on, don't be afraid. Today my son won the certificate of excellence as a good student. My father is very happy. He will never hit anyone after drinking. After drinking, we will play with the remote control car together."
At the beginning, he was quite happy. He told me that I should study hard and go to college in the future. From now on, my father would drink less, stop beating people, and save money to marry me a wife.
When I saw that his eyes started to turn red, I began to worry. Because I knew that as long as his eyes started to turn red, I was not far away from being beaten. Taking advantage of his joy, I boldly said
:
"Dad, stop drinking, let's play with the remote control car together."
He smiled and said:
"It's okay. Dad is happy today. You go and play first. I'll have another drink and then go accompany you."
I had already been thinking about the remote control car. When I saw him letting me play, I quickly hid aside and fiddled with the motor of my remote control car. When I put in the motor with a lot of effort, I was about to take it.
When the remote control car went to play with his father, he suddenly heard that familiar voice.
"Xiaolong, come here."
I was so frightened that I trembled. The remote control car fell to the ground and the motor was thrown out again. I knew that the best way at this time was to walk over and stand in front of him. If I was lucky, he would kick me.
A kick or a slap in the face might be all right.
"Tell me, who the hell do you look like?" This sentence has been talked about for a long time, and it was always the opening line when I was beaten. At that time, I had no idea what this sentence meant.
"Like dad." I have tried many times, but sometimes the result is just a kick.
"Fart!" He didn't kick me, but picked up the wine glass and took another sip. This is the worst result.
Sure enough, after drinking a glass of wine, the wine glass flew to my forehead, and warm blood stayed down my cheek. I started yelling, and he stood up and started punching and kicking me. When I was hit
After being slapped and kicked several times, and then falling against the door and breaking the glass, I don’t know where I got the courage to throw myself into his arms, hugged him and shouted:
"Dad, stop hitting. Dad, stop hitting."
This is the first and last time I do this. Usually I always run out or find a place to hide. When he gets tired or can’t find me, he will lie down on the bed and go to sleep, and then he will get up in the middle of the night to give me something.
Heal injuries.
This time he stopped when I hugged him, then sat back at the dining table, found a cup and continued drinking. When I saw him stop, I quickly ran away to play with my remote control car.
I don’t know how long it took, but when I finally installed the motor and put in the battery to make the remote control car run, I realized that he was no longer at the dining table. So I carried the remote control car to the bed to look for him, and saw
He lay motionless in the pile of vomit on the pillow.
I pinched my nose and wanted to push him and ask him to turn over, but I found that he was unconscious. I was so scared that I climbed on the bed and pushed him, pulled him, and pulled his hair, but I couldn't move him even half an inch.
.
The process is so simple. If I don't get three good students that day, if I don't buy a remote control car, if I don't answer that I am like my father, if I don't hug him, if he doesn't return to the table and continue drinking, maybe my life...