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Broken story of a broken man

Guest DeadPlaya

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Guest DeadPlaya

Chapter 1 - The Early Years

My name...is Pavle Kovac.

I was born in Krasnostav to Anton Kovac, a retired Lieutenant in the Russian Army turned Police Officer, and Sylvia Bolkevsky, a Chernarussian nurse on the 12th of May 1990. I had a brother,also my best friend, Boris Kovac, 6 years older than me.

I grew up as a child in a loving and pretty well-off family.My parents gave me attention and slightly spoiled me with toys and games and the like and my brother always was the protective eye,always watching over me. We always got along very well...

On my tenth birthday, my father told me about his passion for hunting.He said my brother never liked hunting and rarely went out with him.He told me

"There's something...special about knowing that the creature,the developed creature, you are looking at hangs in the balance of your judgement.Do you shoot? Do you let it live? The raw feeling of it is....empowering."

His speech was considered inhumane and cruel by my brother and mother but for me...it felt...right.

Since then I found great love in the sport of hunting.Me and my father started hunting a lot together.We bonded.There never was a hunting trip without Pavle and Anton...

Life was....


In 2004, I had my first run in with the alcohol. I was 14 and my friend was having a birthday party and he told us how he had scored a number of vodka bottles, so I did was what expected and had some shots.Those shots turned to a bottle and the bottle turned to many more bottles. By midnight most of us were completely wasted or soon-to-be completely wasted. Boris had told me that our parents would be at our Aunt's wedding, so I was free to try to get home. I remember getting home and looking up to the doorway to see both of my parents standing there, arms crossed , looking at me sloppily trying to make my way up, almost falling and falling many many times.

I woke up the next day with a glass of water next to my bed and a terrible headache. I went downstairs shortly after and met my mother at the kitchen table. She looked me straight in the ideas and started giving me the "you're in puberty and you want to do 'adult things'" and all that bullshit. I of course 'listened' to her and nodded every once in a while. The talk was done so Boris quickly came down to apologize after mother had left. He told me that he didn't know they were returning this early and apparently there was an accident at the wedding so they returned home.

This incident caused a punishment. That punishment was not being able to enjoy my favorite past time activity, hunting with my father. For the first time in years I would not go hunting with my father.

And it hurt.

I pleaded to go, but to no avail. The decision was made and my father had to go hunting on his own.So on the 26 of July 2004, my father went on a hunting trip,with his trusty UAZ, on his own.

I remember staying in the living room at about 8 in the evening ,watching some really bad Chernarussian adaptation of a Spanish TV series when all of a sudden,my mother bursts into the room,with tears running down her cheeks and power walking to the kitchen. I was startled by the noise so I looked at her.

"Uhhh mom? Is everything oka-..."

"YOU! YOU CAUSED THIS! YOU WORTHLESS CUNT! YOU'RE THE REASON THIS HAPPENED! YOU'RE THE REASON THIS HAPPENED TO HIM! YOU WERE ALWAYS THE REASON. YOU NEVER DID ANYTHING YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. YOU TOOK IT ALL FOR GRANTED. NEVER HAVE I EVER SEEN SOMETHING LIKE YOU" she screamed at me. She never stopped to breathe . She spoke so fast...I was so scared. I just sat there as the insults and the blame landed on me.I could just stay there, trapped in the corner as the screaming echoed in the whole house.

Boris quickly ran down, hearing the commotion to catch a sight of our mother holding a vase in one hand , threatening the life of her own child . He quickly jumped to stop mother and sat her down on a chair. I sat on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest, waiting for it to end. I blocked out any sounds around me until my brother stopped talking to my mother. Many times I remember seeing her break down into a cry then continue talking to my brother.

After not too long, Boris sits down next to me, his facial expression not changing at all.He sits there for some time,not saying anything. I break the silence and ask him

"So what happened?"

he shifts his gaze to me, still his expression not changing

"It's father."

"He's dead."

// I am working on Part 2. I have the whole story planned out and ready to write but that takes some time and it's already 4 in the morning here so yeah, any grammar mistakes might be because I'm really tired. I am also taking suggestions on how to make the thread look prettier. So yeah, any suggestions you can have please post them below .

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