Living dungeon

in #narrative6 years ago

I have lived under this pit for almost three years. I remember the first time I was sent here. I was about thirteen years old. I violated the law in which they expect you to start driving after eighteen. I was stupid, I got in our family car and started forgiving by myself, when I was only thirteen.

Unfortunately the experience was not as painful as i thought. The car drove like a crippled bird, but managed to miss all those people I could have got. After that day, I wanted to drive more and more. So every night when my parents go on their date walk, I would stay behind and start driving.

Until one day, only three weeks later, each day having its own luck. I crushed into a building. It was a grocery store, inside it, there were at least five people dead. I killed them by accident, after that I was sent to prison and prohibited to leave until my adulthood comes. I still got my education, inside the juvenile, they have tutors for us kids.

Now that I am sixteen, today is my first day back home. I knocked at the door in which I left three years ago. I am wearing a shabby, sleeveless top and shirts which seems like people who owned them from the soil. My parents are watching a movie when I got back, it all happened like this; I realised that another girls is sitting between them. She must have been my replacement!

Such rage boiled inside my head, like fire that has been lit in ignition. “Mum, Dad I am home now!” I called when they both focused their attention on me. I observed that they might have fully forgotten who I was.

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