A rabbit dies when it is unloved, they said. I saw one, the rabbit in grade school. Our class took good care of it but when vacation came, everybody was excited with their own plans that nobody thought about the rabbit. It was left alone and when classes resumed after two months, we found the rabbit in its cage; cold and lifeless -- all because it was alone, it wasn't loved.
"You really look like your mother," my father growled as he glared at me. As always, he was drunk and angry. That was mainly the reason why my mother left us. She had long been gone but I still suffer the fate of being her son. "I despise you!" father shouted and threw an empty bottle of alcohol at me.
I caught it with one hand unlike when I was younger, when I had to endure wounds and injuries inflicted by my drunkard father. I knew I have grown a lot since that time but no matter how old I get, I still couldn't leave my father. I was afraid that he might die... alone... and... unloved.