[ WP ] You are a 12 year old son of a professional assassin . Describe what you observe at home .

People always ask me what dad does for a living. He always tells me he's a janitor and he cleans up scum and dirt, so that's what I tell people. But I'm 12, not 6. I've played enough video games and been in his closet one too many times to just believe that a janitor takes a sniper rifle to work. I also know that a janitor would n't be able to buy his son a brand new game console every time they come out. Mom does n't even seem to care much, she's just glad we can afford her medication. 
 
 Sitting on the couch I eat my morning cereal and watch Sunday cartoons. The morning light bathed our living room in gold honey as the sun began its daily rise into the sky. My mother sat next to me, the low rumbling coming from her oxygen machine that allows her to breathe. I do n't mind it very much, the sound is almost like white noise and I can still hear the T.V. I see dad walk downstairs holding a metal briefcase and is all dressed up for `` work''. He ruffles my hair and kisses mom. 
 
 `` I'll be back before dinner, ok honey?'' She smiles up at him `` Ok!'' He begins to walk towards the door and I see this as my chance. If I do n't do this now, I might not have another chance. 
 
 `` Dad!'' 
 
 He turns around and smiles at me. `` What's up buddy?'' 
 
 `` Do you think I can come with you to work today?'' I ask, looking at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes I can muster. He looks to my mom who looks like shes choking back a scream. 
 
 `` Why do n't I take you to the arcade after I get back instead?'' 
 I look at him intently. `` Why wo n't you take me?'' I ask, almost demanding. 
 
 `` Look, Jason I-'' 
 
 `` Stop bullshitting me!'' I practically screamed at him. My brain was buzzing and my heart was pumping. 
 
 `` Jason, watch your mouth!'' He warned, but rather than stopping me, it got me angrier. 
 
 `` I know you kill people! I know you're a hitman! I'm not an idiot and I wish you'd stop lying to me!'' I screamed, tears welling in my eyes as I looked at my father, a shameful look possessing his face. 
 
 `` I-I'm sorry, I really am Jason... But one day, you'll forgive me.'' 
 
 With that he turned and left, leaving me and my mother in complete silence. She began to cry and I ran up to my room. 
 
 That was the day I ran from home. 
 
 Edit: you're
