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I killed my son

Many people have been in the anonymous alcoholic sessions, and many are also AA. Medallions and A.A. Coins to show everyone in the world, their rebirth, and commitment to overcoming their addictions.

With a storm of tears and in a simple and sad voice, my childhood friend whom I had not seen for many years, was old and sick. He began his narration, which was an explosion of bitter recriminations and sad memories. He told me:

My childhood was very sad and very bad, like all things that come from vice and sin. My father was a drunk 24 hours a day, every day. He never cared about me. I was his only son. He neglected my education when he gave himself completely to alcoholism; And what is even more painful, he forgot my food, my clothes, even the most insignificant toy that I wanted so badly in my darkest moments of my childhood stage. He had no shoes; My pants were always broken and I often felt sick, very sick and very lonely in that house where the misery lived.

I did not want, and could not, be alone …! Loneliness frightened me as terrible as death. He had no friends and could not have them; I also had no girlfriend or anyone else in the world. I was a poor wretch, sick and without a will, I was condemned to travel the world, alone and sad.

My poor mother was the perfect image of pain. She was a slave and a victim of her husband’s vices, and one day she decided to abandon me as a teenager.

I started to drink; That is to say, I began to be the thief, the criminal, the biggest rogue in the world. I became an alcoholic. Many times I thought that I should not have been born because I had come to fall into the abyss where we are always caught the most disgusting creatures of pain and all other demons of degeneration and ingratitude.

However, in spite of all that, I got married. That wonderful woman was not for me, it could not be. She was very special. I do not know why, or who brought that Angel to my tormented life. I faked a passion I did not feel. I married her without wanting to and without even being in love. I could not be. How could a pig fall in love with the dawn!

I did not understand my wife, I did not understand that angel that God gave me in a gesture of pity towards me that did not deserve it at all.

On a night of vice and cruelty, I returned home, as usual, completely drunk. He shouted and laughed at the same time. I said many obscene words and terrible blasphemies.

For fifteen days he had not returned home, and now he was doing it in that form: mad, ruthless, and drunk. I could not realize that, during my absence, God had given me the transcendental and sublime responsibility of being a father.

“Do not make noise, my love! Said my wife from the bed where my little son was. Do not you see that you’re going to wake the child up?

I was a human being, filthy and brutal. With a heavy smack, I heavily pulled the sheets over my son, then, start screaming with insolence and dizzy from the alcohol:

-“Arrogant people!” Everybody get to work!

My son fell to the ground, crying frightened, then, I took two or three steps forward and some steps back, while my wife exclaimed full of fright:

-OMG! My son! You’re going to kill him!

-“Leave that pillow on the floor!” I ordered awkwardly, as I stood over that body, unloading all the weight of my body on the tender little body of my own son.

The child exhaled a deaf moan that mingled with a heartbreaking cry from the mother.

– My son! My son! … What have you done? You killed him!

Ignoring what had happened, I threw myself on the empty bed. Ten minutes later I was sleeping the heavy dream of drunkenness. Meanwhile, in the middle of the night, which was the most dreadful night of my life, the huge mouth of the tragedy continued shouting:

– My son! My son!

The next morning I began to understand. The presence of the corpses of my wife and my son made me return the reason. A year later, after a long process, I was in a disgusting jail cell. I was sentenced to ten years in prison.

I quickly aged in prison, But at last, I gained freedom during my harsh condemnation and then fell into the perpetual prison of my own conscience. Because at night my mind repeats over and over again:

– My son! My son!

 

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