My Name Is. . .TOM

I HAD a happy childhood until I was fifteen. Then alcohol got the best of my father. One night while I was sitting in the kitchen, eating, my father stuck a double-barreled shotgun, loaded, under my throat and backed me up against the wall. A few months later while he was intoxicated he woke me up in the middle of the night. He was standing over me, ready to hit me with an ax. I didn't know what was wrong with him. All I could think about was getting away from home. I wanted no part of my father, I had nothing but hate for him.