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Basically this is the story of my life. No changes or improvices just the cold blooded truth. Don't like it? Deal, but this is filled with every feeling, memory, and thought that I've had. It starts with the biggest memories of my past. I'm about 3 and my brother's 1 or 2.
The sky was dark and grey. The house was silent as we creeped through the hall. The frigg was tall so I hoped onto my brother's shoulders for the first thing to touch my fingertips. It was grape jelly and I climbed off grabbing two spoons as I went down.
We tiptoed to the couch and began to eat. It was our first real meal in days. The jelly was expired and felt chunky in my mouth and going down my throat but it was better then the scraps we usually found weekly.
Suddenly there's a cry. A cry of anger, rage. Like nails on a chalkboard screeching our names. We ran to mom and our step dad. Dad grabs us and throws us onto the bed and hits. We try to fight back but we were too small, too young. And mom just watches us get beat.
I remember the days when mom's friends would come over, at least when they didn't have me drugged. They would talk, laughing loudly. I remeber sitting underneath the table, memorizing each of them by their shoes and feet. I can barely recall their faces only their feeting shaking or tapping beside me.
One face does come to memory though, Chris. He was the only nice one, he cared. Mom once took me to see his apartment.
It was big and empty. THe main room only decorated with a lumpy sofa, a wobbily coffee table, and a tv. She greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. THey talked and I sat alone at the coffee table, my brother still at home.
EVentually he smiles at me and leaves the room. He returns with a small gold bow. He hands it to me after twirling the switch in the back. I opened it and a small anastia doll sprung out and twirled to a lullaby. I knew the song, I heard it once before. It was Once Upon A December. I smiled. The song soon became my comfort.
A while later it breaks, I think my mom broke it out of jealousy. I got a gift and she didn't. She always hated us for stealing attention from her. I guess that's why she would lock us away in the closet when people came. She would have us locked in there for so long we usually fell asleep. But it was okay it was safe in here.
One memory still burns in my thoughts though, it was when I first started protecting my brother.
Dad called us to his rrom. Him and mom are smilling on the bed. Mom got up and left not even bothering to close the door. I knew what was comingand I was scared. He called us to his bed. We crawled to him obeying, as we tried to aviod the cigerette packs.
Suddenly he makes a grab for one of us, I jump infront of my brother. Dad grabs my arm and yanks me forward. I cry. He squeezes harder, he enjoys my pain.
He strips and he slips off his boxers. Dj stares in horror then runs to our room. I return later tear stains on my cheeks, my eyes puffy and red. My body black and blue. My pj's are half off and Dj is on his bed.
He stares at me. No words needed to be spoken, his stare said it all. And so did mine. I forced a small smile and hugged him. He cried in my arms as we fell asleep in his too small, bug infested bed. Holding him in my arms and singing him to sleep.
These memories and many others still haunt me to this day. This man was never my real father, bu tone of the many replacements. THey were all the same, they all did the same thing.
For a long time I thought I forgot all of this, pushing them to the back of my mind. But after reading Ruby they all flowed back to me, like a black and white movie of the past.It scares me how close that book was to my life. It was like someone took my life and twisted some parts. I cried over every paragraph. I could feel her pain, her joy, her worries. It was like looking into a mirror.
This only made me realize I wanted people to now, just like her, that I am a survivor. I wanted people to know of my past instead of assuming I had the same as everyone else's. I want people to know where I came from, who I am and clear my sins in their eyes. Let them know and I would be happy.
 TwistedShaddows · Mon Feb 04, 2008 @ 01:43pm · 2 Comments |
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