What really happened in December

The whirlwind of thoughts chokes the child as he picks up the hatchet. Holding the hatchet makes him feel a bit better. 

It will be quick, he tells himself. Nobody will ever know.

He opens the door.

"Father?" He's sarcastic, yet unsure.

The father peeks out from behind a table.

"D-don't get near me," he stutters. 

The child throws the hatchet, sinking it into the wall next to his father.

His eyes widened and he looked down at the stick in his other hand.

He... didn't hit his father. He... didn't die.

His head jerks to the side and he begins to laugh. "S-so I didn't k-kill you, e-eh?"

And he runs towards the man, stabbing him in the hand with the pointed stick. 

And he realizes as the blood stains his hoodie, white fabric turning red, that he really, really, really shouldn't have done that.