Growing up I didn't live in the most loving house. My father was a drunk tard that would beat on me and my mom after work while my mom truly cared for me but worked a less than savory job helping pay the bills. One day when I was about five I remember the bus coming to a stop at an empty run-down house, my house. I got up from my seat hearing the usual whispers from the other kids "look at that house," and "how can anybody live there", I always felt so ashamed and mad when I heard what they had to say. I was mad at the bastard for putting me in this situation. I walked into the empty house that for a short time would give me reprieve from the outside world, I liked the quiet calm of no one being there, no yelling, slamming of doors, or bottles breaking, just silence in my temporary paradise. I was never too social either so I never tried defending it, my anxiety at this age would always get the best of me. I didn't play too much with the other kids outside mostly because their parents didn't want them to get involved with me. I would stay in my room drawing with my crowns and pencils from school till I got hungry and made myself one of the frozen dinners in the freezer. After eating I would do any homework and clean my mess along with the house to try and stave off the beatings from the bastard though they would usually come anyhow. I heard the door open and then slam shut again as I flinched.
"HEY, KID!!" the bastard called out from the living room
"MAKE ME, DINNER!!" He shouted once more with slurred speech.
I slowly made my way out of my room and walked into the kitchen with my head looking at the floor I grabbed the last frozen dinner out of the fridge, microwaved it, then brought it to him as he was sitting on the couch watching TV.
"hear you go," I said in a whisper.
He snatched the less than favorable frozen dinner out of my hands with a grumble, it consisting of mashed potatoes that looked and probably tasted like cardboard alongside meatloaf that didn't look like it was made of meat then on top was watery brown gravy. He faced me and with his deep gravel voice speaking
"Why are you whispering, AND LOOK AT ME!," he said as he grabbed me by my hair. He pulling my hair back and forcing me to look him in the eyes as I smelt the booze on his breath.
"s-Sorry, I didn't mean to," I managed to articulate with a choked up voice as tears ran down my face
"I bet you didn't you little shite" he said flinging me back making me fall to the ground.
"And stop all that crying bullshite, you're ruining my show," he demanded looking back at the TV whilst eating.
"y-yes sir," I uttered as I got up wiping the tears from my face then walked back to my room. My hands balled into fist. This was one of the lucky days, I remember the terrified screams I heard as he pounded on mom, how helpless I felt, the pain I felt, and my rage. As I got older starting at the age of twelve I meet someone that would teach me the thing that would set me free, Boxing.
A young man named Achilles wakes up in the middle of a forest in an unknown world. Achilles travels a magical world along with a companion or two looking for the reason he ended up in that world as he overcomes his past traumas and conquers his demons.
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