Confessions of a hearbroken son.

My name is James Obrien. I am 26 and living in California state prison the words that follow and the events that took place explain how i came to be here.

From the moment my life began i had been happy, i had a father who stuck by me even after my mother left. We were a team, we had a bondage that could'nt be broken. But that soon changed on my 7th birthday.

My dad who was also my best friend and my only guardian, had taken us to the store to pick up drinks for my party that would have taken place that night. But fate soon intervened.
On the way to the store an obscene accident had occured, it involved one truck, one car, and one deceased individual. The deceased individual being my father.
I had witnessed my father's death. I was in the back of the car and i survived. But only marginly. I was in the hospital for 5 weeks, and i had awaoken from a coma after two weeks.
When i woke up i was the only one in the room, no one beside me, and there were no other patients in the room. I was alone. The unbreakable bond between me and my father had been broken, it was broken by a power beyond life. It was broken by death.

After my release from hospital i had been placed in a temporary home.
The reason it was temporary was because my mother with whom i had'nt seen or heard from since i was two, was being found. The investigator who had been tracking my coward of a mother down had told me this; "she is still your mother, she still has a responsibility, so therefore when she is found you will be in residence with her".
But at that time i didnt want to live with her. I had given up on her years ago. But i was a minor and i had no sway over the legal system.

But after a breif time of searching they found her. To both of our disgusts we had been re united. I also had no idea what this new life had in stall for me. But now i wish my father had stayed alive.

My mum had a boyfriend, he was a severe alcoholic and he even dealt with drugs. From the moment i had set foot in their comunity housing house he had it in for me. The place was an absolute dump and it was in a neighbourhood that with held a reputation of a bad nature.
One night after dinner and after he had several dozen drinks he ordered me to clean up, i had done the wrong thing in talking back. When i had replied to his order he had dragged me by my hair into his bedroom where he continuously beat me. I had screamed so loud i was sure the whole street could hear me, but no one came. I was a seven year old boy on the ground being beaten to a excessivley and i could'nt do anything about it. My own flesh and blood mother was in the next room laughing at what was going on.
After fifteen minutes of intense unessecary pain i lay on the floor crying and bleeding, i wasn't sure whether i was tasting blood or tears but it was definatley an apparent taste i had never had.
But i knew i would never forget that moment in time.

Years had passed. When i reached the age of fifteen i had started dealing in things i am now not proud of. I had started using drugs and had gotten in with the wrong crowd from around the neighberhood.
My mothers boyfriend had been away for quite sometime, i was not sure whether he would return and that excited me. But that sheer pitiful excuse for excitement had soon changed.

By the age of 16 he had returned. This was an age when my life took yet another violent turn.
My mother's boyfriend had made and abrupt return. And one night as i lay on my bed he walked in furious and violently drunk. He had out of the blue burst in and started abusing me verbally about not looking after my mother. I did not say anything to him. That is until he brought my father into it. He had called my father a 'shit parent'. That is when my mind when blank, and all thoughts were erased. I had walked out of my room and he had followed, still shouting and abusing my father. I had walked to the sink and started to wash the dishes.
He had punched me in my right kidney and i fell to the ground.
The words that he said when i was on the ground had been the reason for my coming actions.
He had yelled that my father was a no good dickhead. They were the last words he ever said.
I had gotten up off the tiled kitchen floor and grabbed a knife from the sink.
With one swift turn around i had struck my mother's boyfriend in the stomach seven times with a seventeen inch butcher knife.

After my actions i ran to my room and gathered my belongings and ran out of the house.
I had just kept running and running. I did not know where i was going or how i was going to get there. But two hours later a series of flashing lights had had approached me on a dark road. It was the police. My mother had called them i guess. I knew what would happen soon after.

My sentencing was scheduled 2 months later and i was sentenced to life for murder in the first degree.


So that is my story, my story of pain, sadness, grief and revenge. Now the only thing i have to do is to wait. Wait for death to take me in to its arms. And wait for a new life with my father.

The End.