(An argument. Critique please!)
“God damnit, Damien! Are you stupid, son? Why are doing this? Do you honestly think you can get anywhere in life with writing school!”
His anger now elevated to a new level. This was a conversation they had before. Damien wanted to pursue his career in writing since the age of fifteen, but his parents thought it ludicrous and so would force him to venture after something practical like business or medicine. If not choosing a field his parents respected, no financial assistance would come to Damien left he would be to fend for himself. However to Damien, he did not care about the money, the money he could work for, but writing was his passion and no one could that away from him.
Damien struggled remain calm. “I want to go writing school, his words shook, “this is what I want.”
His father looked just stared at him in dismay. He was dumbfounded. How stupid could the child be, he thought, did I give birth to an underdeveloped piece of trash? His son was about to become some failed being. He thought the profession of writing was for weaklings, for those who cannot contribute to society so they resorted to locking themselves up in a room and typed words.
“I will not allow it,” he said in a more lowered tone. “My son will not throw his life away to fiction.” He paused for a second, but his rage instantly returned with a sudden thought he had. “I will not let you feed your future to a shit-hole of writing!”
“That is not your decision to make.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not your life. It’s not your future.”
“You’re my son,” he responded harshly. “I make the decisions which I see fit for you!”
Damien was going to change his next words wisely; he was going to try to calm the tension in the room between them. Ultimately, however he realized this argument was to come. This was going to be the final civil conversation they together would ever have before he left to begin his life. He was not going to give in this time. He was going to fight.
“I will do this,” Damien said to him in confidence, his shaking voice was gone, his slight quiver vanished.
“You will not, Damien! You will listen to me! You will listen to me, your father!”
“What right do you have, dad, to tell me what to do anymore? Maybe when I was younger, when I needed guidance, but not now, I have come to an age of reason. I do not need you anymore, I do not want you.”
Damien’s father shook his head violently. Again, he pounded the table with his fist. “Damien, end your useless thoughts! You will accomplish any damn one of them! Settle for a decent career, something you can actually achieve! Son, stop being such a daydreamer! Stop your idiocy!”
This was it. Damien would not continue with this. He now became enraged. Never had Damien hated his father as much as now. Never had Damien wanted more but to take a knife from the cabinet and plunge it into his neck.
“You sick bastard,” Damien said, “You sick perverted bastard!” He took a step forward and pointed a finger towards the man he loathed, the man who he was ashamed to call his father. “Stop with your stupidity, Dad, stop with your lies!”
Damien’s father looked at him in astonishment. His face held no expression. Never had Damien said something like this for never had Damien the courage to. All he could do was take the words Damien now delivered.
“You are a bitch that is what you truly are. You are an old hopeless man who has nothing better but to suck all the happiness form a person. You share no compassion to those around you, only cruelty. You, Dad, are nothing more but a vile masochistic piece of shit!”
Finally, he said those words. Finally, Damien said the words he so longed to say to that man for years. He panted as a result from his outburst, but overall he felt better, he felt that a lump of remorse was off his chest, he felt good.
His father charged up to Damien so his face was directly upon him, centimeters of distance separated the enraged father and son, possibly the closets they had been in years, and of all the reasons to be together it was because of despise for one other.
“Son,” his father said. His putrid breath piled upon Damien, the dirty scent of tobacco from his recent smoke filled his senses. In a whispering tone he finished, “Get your fucking ass to your room and lock the door. Do not come out until I say.”
He did not move.
“Do it!” his father belted, “do it now!”
Damien spat in his face.
He returned Damien's action with a blow to the neck that sent him hurdling to the floor. Damien gave out a shriek of pain. He grabbed the arm that he fell on. Surely, he thought, it was broken.
His father was not finished.
Damien saw his father grab a piece of shattered glass from the cup he threw and began running to him. Instantly, he lifted himself from the floor and dashed to the door. Quickly, he played with the latch to get it open and fled from his house, his father right behind h
“God damnit, Damien! Are you stupid, son? Why are doing this? Do you honestly think you can get anywhere in life with writing school!”
His anger now elevated to a new level. This was a conversation they had before. Damien wanted to pursue his career in writing since the age of fifteen, but his parents thought it ludicrous and so would force him to venture after something practical like business or medicine. If not choosing a field his parents respected, no financial assistance would come to Damien left he would be to fend for himself. However to Damien, he did not care about the money, the money he could work for, but writing was his passion and no one could that away from him.
Damien struggled remain calm. “I want to go writing school, his words shook, “this is what I want.”
His father looked just stared at him in dismay. He was dumbfounded. How stupid could the child be, he thought, did I give birth to an underdeveloped piece of trash? His son was about to become some failed being. He thought the profession of writing was for weaklings, for those who cannot contribute to society so they resorted to locking themselves up in a room and typed words.
“I will not allow it,” he said in a more lowered tone. “My son will not throw his life away to fiction.” He paused for a second, but his rage instantly returned with a sudden thought he had. “I will not let you feed your future to a shit-hole of writing!”
“That is not your decision to make.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not your life. It’s not your future.”
“You’re my son,” he responded harshly. “I make the decisions which I see fit for you!”
Damien was going to change his next words wisely; he was going to try to calm the tension in the room between them. Ultimately, however he realized this argument was to come. This was going to be the final civil conversation they together would ever have before he left to begin his life. He was not going to give in this time. He was going to fight.
“I will do this,” Damien said to him in confidence, his shaking voice was gone, his slight quiver vanished.
“You will not, Damien! You will listen to me! You will listen to me, your father!”
“What right do you have, dad, to tell me what to do anymore? Maybe when I was younger, when I needed guidance, but not now, I have come to an age of reason. I do not need you anymore, I do not want you.”
Damien’s father shook his head violently. Again, he pounded the table with his fist. “Damien, end your useless thoughts! You will accomplish any damn one of them! Settle for a decent career, something you can actually achieve! Son, stop being such a daydreamer! Stop your idiocy!”
This was it. Damien would not continue with this. He now became enraged. Never had Damien hated his father as much as now. Never had Damien wanted more but to take a knife from the cabinet and plunge it into his neck.
“You sick bastard,” Damien said, “You sick perverted bastard!” He took a step forward and pointed a finger towards the man he loathed, the man who he was ashamed to call his father. “Stop with your stupidity, Dad, stop with your lies!”
Damien’s father looked at him in astonishment. His face held no expression. Never had Damien said something like this for never had Damien the courage to. All he could do was take the words Damien now delivered.
“You are a bitch that is what you truly are. You are an old hopeless man who has nothing better but to suck all the happiness form a person. You share no compassion to those around you, only cruelty. You, Dad, are nothing more but a vile masochistic piece of shit!”
Finally, he said those words. Finally, Damien said the words he so longed to say to that man for years. He panted as a result from his outburst, but overall he felt better, he felt that a lump of remorse was off his chest, he felt good.
His father charged up to Damien so his face was directly upon him, centimeters of distance separated the enraged father and son, possibly the closets they had been in years, and of all the reasons to be together it was because of despise for one other.
“Son,” his father said. His putrid breath piled upon Damien, the dirty scent of tobacco from his recent smoke filled his senses. In a whispering tone he finished, “Get your fucking ass to your room and lock the door. Do not come out until I say.”
He did not move.
“Do it!” his father belted, “do it now!”
Damien spat in his face.
He returned Damien's action with a blow to the neck that sent him hurdling to the floor. Damien gave out a shriek of pain. He grabbed the arm that he fell on. Surely, he thought, it was broken.
His father was not finished.
Damien saw his father grab a piece of shattered glass from the cup he threw and began running to him. Instantly, he lifted himself from the floor and dashed to the door. Quickly, he played with the latch to get it open and fled from his house, his father right behind h