script that i was working on before deciding to re-write the entire story

i might use this scene later on the re-made version, for now its a baby step on the right direction i think, i might upload more scripts and character development bits on here on now, since i feel i lack a lot as a writer right now, THAT BEEN SAID IMMA STILL POST ART AND DEVELOPMENT FOR THE PROJECTS I WORK ON

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flashback: to the time micke’s mom abandon him and his father

“mom left” he said as the cold breeze of the night hit his back, he was wearing a thin t shirt so his body was really unprotected from the coldness of the night at 5 am 

his father’s eyes just got bigger, wilder, those were some scary eyes

he pushed micke to the side violently, almost throwing him to the ground as he run towards the apartment where they had lived over the last 10 years 

micke was sitting in the street, alone again, the street was empty, void of anything or anyone, it was scary, but it was way scarier to go inside, who knows how his dad would react, his experience told him that it was a way better idea to wait sitting in the street by himself than going inside

then a loud noise came from inside the apartment, micke stood up as fast as he could and ran the 7 floors of stairs as fast as he could 

the apartment's door was open, there was light coming from inside, there were more loud noises, crashing and breaking the silence, how the other people in the building had not come out to see the commotion was a mystery

micke took a big gulp, he started breathing more erratically, wow, it was hard just breathing, how did he do it without thinking so much was a mystery, he started taking steps towards the apartment, but with each step his legs felt tired, wobbly and weak

first thing he notice was the big drawer that it was on the small living room, now it was on the floor, the various plates and little decorations that it contain, all broken, there was glass and ceramics all around the broken thing, he took precautions to not step on them, since he wasn't wearing anything on his feet 

the kitchen was ok, nothing moved or changed from it, he senses something is missing from the kitchen, but he can't put a finger on what could it be 

he walked slowly, quietly, fearing that any noise or sudden movement could make things worse, he passed his room, it was as he left it, he stared at the bed for a little while until a loud scream shocks him 

he holds his shirt tightly as he continues walking towards his parents bedroom, the hallway was dark, the lights had not been turn on, the only source of light was coming from the master bedroom, it was a bright orange, probably from the lamps that had not been turn off for hours 

he is now next to the door, the noises of scrapping, hitting and the guttural sounds of his father struggling are more loud; he holds the puts his hand on the door, he haves to get in, but he can't bring his arm to move, he pushes the door slowly

inside the room, everything is a mess, there are pieces of cloth and silk all around the floor, all of them from what used to be his mother’s clothes

the photos that were on the night stand now were broken on the floor, the photos not unusable since they had been damaged by someone stomping on them 

and then there was his father, stabbing the side of the bed where his mother slept, with the object that was missing from the kitchen, a cooking knife

he seemed feral, sweat all over his forehead, his face red from anger, his hair all messed up, but what shock micke the most was the expression he had, a face between uncontrollable anger and a sick smile

micke took a step backwards, side eyeing the door, considering how to escape if he needed to 

-d...dad?- he managed to say, even tho his throat was dry

his father turned around, their eyes making direct contact, a burst of panic traveled across micke’s body as his father started approaching him, he tug on his shirt, he made himself look smaller, his breath was out of control, not knowing if the pace must be fast or slow

he had seen his father angry before, it was never a good idea to try and talk him out of his anger, he had tried and always ended up crying on his room with his legs hurt from the leather of the belt, or worse, with the pain and heat on his face from the back of his father’s hand 

he shouldn't be smarter by now, but he always worries, what if his father is hurt?, what if he needs someone to talk to?, what if he can fix things if he tries a little extra? 

he doesn't want to leave him alone, he doesn't want to be alone either, but right now as his father is approaching him he realizes maybe he had committed a mistake 

he closes his eyes, waiting for the hit, if he can’t see it maybe it would hurt less 

• when did your mother left?- he hears his father say, but there is something in his voice, different than his usual roughness. micke swears he is going crazy, but he sounds hurt 
• it-it was …. five hours ago- micke says slowly, nervous - i-i-i tried stopping h-her… but… she didn't listen to me-