Friendship wasn't meant for convenience and neither was love. - Me

I've heard of this and seen this too much, please help me spread the word about this:

    Thunder boomed outside the window as well as inside the home, the thunder outside was unlike the one seen inside. On the inside it boomed upon the face of the mans wife, relentless as her hands flew up to cover herself, as if those weak soft hands could protect her as if they were angel wings. He struck again and again, struck faster then god could've created the bolts. Then, it just stopped, the storm subsided and he wiped the frothy liquid from his lips and threw the useless bottle at the doorway, it shattered as his seven year old daughter and seven year old son looked on to the blood streaming down their mothers soft ivory skin. She laid there limp, they stood there frozen in horror, he laughed and smiled like a demon smiling wildly with the smell of blood and the essence of corruption.
    He bent down and stared at his wife with his peircing green eyes, his smile still there. "Haven't I been good to you, you wretch?", he laughed to himself muttering profanity as he looked at the kids, his life and blood. He stared at their frailty, their light tan skin, green eyes and soft brown hair.
    His daughters voice was caught in her throat, stopped up with questions and screams. Her brother, her twin, looked at his father with the utmost of hate in his heart. He ran towards his father a shard of glass in his hand. He has seen this all to many times, he didn't want to see it anymore, he didn't want her to see it anymore, he didn't want his mother to feel those fists. He hated those sounds, the sound of thunder clap overhead. His attack was stopped short as his father brought his leg up in a single swift movement. The child flipped and laid there as still as his mother was before. His mother had saw and screamed in unison with her daughter. The father was done, he broke the door and stumbled out into the rain, his eyes searching for an answer.
    He screamed to the heavens on his knees, and then laughed manically. For the answer wasn't why he did it, but why he enjoyed it. Then it flashed through his mind and reflected in those green eyes. His son flipping, himself flipping, his mother being killed infront of him. He was his father, one and the same. Now it was time for his son to become him. He cried, he had to stop the endless cycle of brutality. He ran into the street and faced the blaring truck head on, his wife cried and screamed while holding her beloved children, one limp the other quite the opposite, shaking convulsively. She still loved him, she believed it wasn't him that created the monster, it was that liquid, she knew. She tried pouring it away that night, tried riding her home of the disease, the curse, the poison that had coursed through his veins for five years.
    They stood their in the daylight, their skin excreting sweat from under the sun. Their black clothes reflected on their mood as two graves were made that day. One for the father the other for the son. they are one and the same, yet so much different.

Pass this on if you understand it, if you understand that abuse is not okay, that it is harmful physically AND harmfully. Nothing bad will happen if you don't repost this, but please repost to help rid the world of abuse. - John Luu.

Ps, thanks for reading it I hope you repost this.