The Movie

Hairy Potter and the Goblet of Fire comes out November 18, 2005, and I told my parents I wished to see it, so they decided to plan it for the next day which was a Saturday afternoon. I was so excited to see it that I was completely oblivious to the gratuitous fighting between both my supposed mature parents.
Awakening from my rest, my body was awake but my brain was still half asleep. With no problem opening my eyes, which was odd, I become ecstatic immediately when I come to the realization that to day was the movie day. I walk out the front door and breath in the dark foggy air, but ignore it. I dressed myself in warm attire and sprint to the kitchen to realize I'm the only one who was excited. Mom and Dad were both in absolutely foul moods. Mom wears the stench of cigarettes and lung cancer. While Dad reeks of alcohol and liver failure. The bickering back and forth has failed to stop so dad gets fed up says he doesn't want to go to the movie anymore. 
My mom steps in and decides we are going anyway. With no remorse I decided to make my way to my moms fire engine red ford F350 pickup. I lunge out the front door, through the red brick patio, out the cast iron gate, and twenty yards down the drive way to the big, red, monster. My brother opens the gate and I get in the rear-passenger-side-seat. 
Apparently Dad changed his mind as he thunders toward the truck, he throws open my door and pulls me out. I stand at the side of the large truck trying to gather my jumbled thoughts and find him throwing trash out of the truck, screaming, and hitting. Impulsively, I suppose, Mom hits the gas and the truck roars toward the gate, but Dad was not in the truck, nor was he standing next to me. Instead he is laying face down on the concrete. Blood gushing. No movement just noise. As I focus in on what he's crying out to make, I couldn't make since of it because the words were jumbled and the blood was filling his mouth. It sounded like he was drowning.