The Monster Inside
It all began on my third birthday, the day that Daddy left. I had been a child living in ignorance and blessed with innocence. But no longer.
I ran into the living room to find him standing over the slumped form of my mother. He hit her again and again with such coldness, and then he ran. He ran away from my stricken mother leaving me in her vengeful wrath. Surely he was not aware of the untold consequences that his actions had on me. Maybe he never cared, but I wish that I could see his familiar face one last time.
Mother was never quite whole again. She was a mere shell of what she used to be. At first it started out slow. Mother would shout hurtful words at me, "You little pest. You leech. Your father doesn't love us anymore because of you!" But I could take that. The words are not what pushed me to run away. It was the abuse that broke me. She was especially cruel on my birthdays. The grief and anger would transform my mother into the monster that plagued my nightmares. The years dragged on, and I began dreading my birthdays, the day where monsters came alive.
Now here I sit, at the train station on my 18th birthday waiting for the vessel that would carry me far far away from my aggressor. I am now legally an adult, but I feel as if this title has been mine since that fateful third birthday. With my newfound freedom I run away from my mother and the dormant monsters that lay only beneath the surface of my mother's worn exterior.
My mind often wanders back into the happy memories of my youth, the times when my Daddy was there to protect me, when my mother still loved me. I dare to imagine what it would be to be normal; to only be frightened of the monsters under the bed. But I have seen the monsters that reside in the human heart, and to my growing despair I can see my childhood fears coming to life all around me.
Ignorance
Once, long ago, I was a child living in ignorance and blessed with innocence. I did not yet know the truths of life, and of its cruelty. But I would learn sooner than most.
My enlightenment began on my third birthday, the day that Daddy left. He ran awau from my unfaithful mother leavinf me in her wrath. Surely he was not aware of the untold consequences that his actions had on me. Maybe he never cared, but I wish that I could see his smiling face one last time.
Mother was never quite whole again. She was a mere shell of the fiery artist that she used to be. At first it started out slow. Mother would shot hurtful words at me, "You little pest. You leech. Your father doesn't love anymore us because of you!" But I could take that. The words are not what pushed me away. It was the abuse that broke me. She was especially cruel on my birthdays. Her grief and anger would transform my mother into the monster that plagued my nightmares. The years dragged in, and I began dreading my birthday, the day of abuse.
Now here I sit, at the train station on my 18th birthday waiting for the vessel that would carry me far far away from that monster. After fifteen long years of pain and suffering, I couldn't take it any longer, and I ran away from my mother and her broken stone cold heart. My mind often wandered back into the happy memories of my youth, the times when my Daddy was there to protect me. I dare to imagine what it would be to be normal; to not know the ugly truths life has revealed, and I realize that ignorance truly is bliss.
Get Away
I stood clinging to my little brother, staring out at nothing at all. Train cars rushed past. They would carry us into our new life. I knew not what lay ahead, and I could feel the responsibilities of adulthood pressing down on my heavy heart. Was I an adult? How long had it been like this?
Before that, I ran. I ran as far away from the abuse, little brother in tow. We could never go back.
Before that, my mother staggered home, more drunk than usual. She screamed, "You little pests! You leeches! Your father doesn't love us anymore because of you!" The words sting. No matter how many times she screams those words, they never get easier to hear. My resolve broke and I whispered, "No, mom it was because of you…" The blows fell. They cannot be forgiven, not this time.
Before that, I covered the bruises. I made the excuses. Surely my own mother loved me.
Before that, my father ran away from responsibility. He ran from my unfaithful mother, and from his loving children.
Before that, I was a child.