《Sick - An Irondad Story》4
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I stumble my way down to my lab, tears threatening to spill. My chest burnt with hopelessness and sorrow. I could have saved him. I could have asked him how he was doing instead of spending days at work. I sat down on the wheelchair at my desk and took out something else to work on. I took out a beer and some different sized screwdrivers. I stumbled over to the record player and started playing my "Redbone" album at almost full volume. I began working on a new invention, an alarm system that would keep close watch over houses all over America. It felt good. That's an understatement. It felt amazing. I felt relief, like I didn't have to think about anything anymore. It gave me something new to focus on. Then I heard a door slam, and Peter came around the corner, his face laced with hatred and tears streaming down his heated cheeks. "Is this what you're going to do? Sit down here for the next few days while I wait for you to come up? Huh? Do you know what I'm going through?! Do you realize how much it pains me to wait upstairs for you? I'm constantly trying to keep you happy, and now this happens!" He gestured to his head. "Do you even care about me?! Do you care about what I'm going through! Who am I kidding, you wouldn't spend all day in this stupid lab if you did!"
Peter yelled at me. He's never done that. I was caught off guard by his outburst, but instead of apologizing, I got angry by his tone. I could feel my face heating up with rage, and I yelled, "How dare you use that tone with me, young man! You have no right to manipulate me like this! Go to your room, and stay there!" Peter stood there for a second, confused, scared, and angry. "NOW." I spat. "I hate you!" he bawled, as he made a dash off to his room, but it looked more like a stumble. I froze. He hates me? HE HATES ME?! After all I had given him, this is what I get in return?! I spun around a punched a hole in the wall, with a yell. I fell to the floor and started crying. "I'm sorry Pete. I'm sorry..." I whispered.
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Revenge of the Dead
What kind of person do you become when you are faced with your own death? Who do you become when you see the end drawing near with no way to stop it? What kind of person are you when you face your own killer? Some believe that they will keep their morals and not give into the hate and the anger. Some say its better to die at peace instead of dying with so much hate in your heart and in your soul. But I know the truth. In the end, you won't care about morals or what’s right or what's wrong. You just want to live and you will do anything to keep living. Those bastards. They killed me and thought they could get away with it. They thought they could hide from me? Foolish. I will never give up. I will never stop until I get my revenge. Not even death can stop me. ----------------------- This is my first story here. I hope you guys can give me tips as the story progresses. I will warn you, if you dont like OP main characters then dont read it. I like Litrpgs so this world will follow that. I tried to make the decision making as realistic as possible. This story was made for entertaining the reader. I hope you enjoy it.
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