Blaine should have felt guilty, maybe he could have shed a tear. But he didn't. He stared down at his fathers lifeless body as blood soaked his plaid shirt with a hole in the middle of his unmoving chest. He killed his father, there was no easy way saying that. Blaine dropped the bloody knife on the wooden floor and his fingers started to tremble, not from being guilty, are being terrified, but with satisfaction. Could someone be so sick that he was happy that his father was dead? "Im sorry, I guess." He whispered as he looked into his fathers glazed eyes. "You took everything away from me." Blaine growled as he looked down at his feet. "My mother is dead because of you. She was found dead with a knife embedded in her chest, and it could have only been you. You would beat her, you thought you could keep it from me, well look where you are now." But that wasn't the only reason Blaine plunged the knife into his heart. It was self-defense, Blaine was sick of coming home to beatings and his father would tell him "your worthless, a useless faggot" maybe his father was right, but something in Blaine snapped. Blaine jumped as he heard loud shouts and red and blue lights come from outside. He stalked out of the house quickly after grabbing his backpack from off the floor, no parents meant no home, no food, and no school.