As I sit here in an empty house, in a lonely room, my thoughts go back to what brought me to this moment.
I was born June 20th 1992 in Chicago Illinois, to Elizabeth and Edward Sr. Masen. I wish I could say that I was brought home to a big cozy suburban home in a pristine neighborhood. But I wasn't I was brought home to a rat, cockroach infested apartment building that was falling apart, that was in the middle of the worse neighborhood in Chicago.
My Parents were drug addicts; heroine was their drug of choice. To make money my mother sold her body on the street, and my father sold drugs along side her, a drug dealer. Growing up I was used to hearing gunshots at all times of the day. People shouting, screaming, I was used to seeing the homeless on the streets, people passed out or overdosed. I was used to that. Growing up I was my father's punching bag, his relief when he couldn't get high, in all honesty I loved my high father, he was actually loving, like a real father, or to the best of his possibility when he was high. But when he was sober, I hated him, he beat me until I could barley move, until I could barley breathe. I got used to the beatings, learned how to avoid them. I tried to keep the apartment clean. My mother I can say I truly loved, she really tried, and she was a good girl that got lead down the wrong path by my father.
She would read to me, she made me study in school, she supported me, and when my father started to beat me she would try to stop it, but she knew he would just hurt her, and then there would be no income from her and absolutely no protection from her for me.
School was my sanctuary it was my place to get away, I was very good in school, straight A's. I even skipped two grades. My teachers noticed that I didn't have clean clothes that I came to school with cuts and bruises on my face and body. But they saw it all the time; I assured them that I was ok.
By the time I was about 10 I learned how to clean myself up and how to have clean clothes
One day when I came home from school I was 12, I walked in on something I will never forget an image I will never get out of my head. My father was hovering over my mothers mangled bloody body, in my fathers hand was a bloody knife. I knew my mother was dead, and I was next. But I knew I my mother would have never have wanted me to just let him do it, so I did the only thing I could. I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the police station 4 blocks away. I heard my father screaming at me. But I ignored it I ran into the police station, it was filled with petty thieves, gangbangers, hookers and others. I ran to the nearest police officer and told him my father just killed my mother. He put both his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. He asked me my address I told him. He left with some others.
It turns out that they found him passed out on the couch my mother's dead body still on the floor. He got sentenced to life in prison. He got off easy. I was put into foster care. I was put into many houses not much better than what I grew up in, the difference was there were a lot of kids who were not nice, and they beat the younger weaker kids. Stole their food that was not plentiful. But I got through by being quiet and only speaking when spoken to.
In one of my foster homes I met a boy James, he was two years older than me, he introduced me to they way he coped; he coped with dulid, a type of pain medicine. It helped him forget, made him feel numb, that night was the first time I got high. It was the first time in my life I felt good, I felt like everything was going to be ok. I was 13.
About a year later I was adopted by a nice young couple that couldn't have kids, their names were Dr. Carlisle Cullen and Esme Cullen. They were from Forks, WA. They already had 4 adopted children Emmett, Alice, and twins Jasper and Rosalie. They were all older than me, Emmett, Jasper and Rose being the most by 2 years and Alice 1 year.
I learned when they were looking and they came across me they wanted me right away, but their agent warned them. Warned them about my past, and about possible psychotic problems with me. They didn't care; they wanted to help me forget. I laughed internally when they told me this; it was impossible to fix me, because I was never whole.
They brought me home, when they tried talking to me on the way home I would only give them short brief answers, they noticed and Esme just talked about her kids and living in Forks. I didn't really listen, because I would never get close to anybody, because I learned at a early age that it just gets you hurt.
When we pulled up to a large white house, I laughed a humorless laugh they turned and looked at me with hope in their eyes, but that quickly faded at what they saw. They brought in what little I had and showed me to my room that they had decorated; they said Emmett and Jasper helped decorate. It could have been a dream room for almost any boy my age. But to me it was just another room. A few hours later I heard the open then slam shut and "We're home." Was shouted. I heard whispers then a "I'll go get him." Esme came up and asked if I wanted to meet them. I just followed her. I took them in typical suburban kids. When they talked to me I gave them short brief answers.
Over the years I warmed up to them a little bit. But never fully, I rarely smiled. On the outside people would think that I was fine, that I had gotten over everything. But what they didn't know about was the drugs. I would get a package every month from James of drugs. I got high and felt good, but like all drugs the high was never the same, it just was a quick fix.
I decided a few months ago that tonight was the night I would end my misery, the night I would be reunited with my mother.
Emmett and Rose were on a date in Seattle, Jasper and Alice were at a party, and Carlisle and Esme were at a hospital get together.
"Now are you sure you are ok alone Edward?" Carlisle asked for the second time. I nodded at him "Yes, I'll be fine." I gave the briefest hint of a smile. He looked at me strange. "You know Edward you can come with me and Jazzy to the party, I saw Jessica invite you." I shook my head "I don't like parties." I gave them an explanation. Again I gave the briefest of smiles. Again I got a strange look from all of them, "Just go and have fun, I will be fine like I always am." It was rare for me to speak without being spoken to first. They nodded and Esme smiled and as they were walking out the door I heard Esme say "I think we are finally getting through to him." Carlisle smiled and nodded. The door echoed through the empty house.
The reasons why I wanted to do this was I was sick of acting that I was ok, I was sick of seeing people acting like the world was perfect that there was no ugly in it. I wanted to choose that way I die. I wanted to be in control of one thing in my life. I want to do something for ME for once in my life.
Before I went upstairs I made sure everything was clean. I grabbed a piece of paper and a sharpie. I went up stairs to my bedroom; I turned on my stereo, and put it on my favorite song and put it on repeat. Brompton Cocktail. Is my theme song. As I heard it start blasting out of the stereo I sat down on my bed rolled up the sleeve and saw the old needle marks, along with all the self inflicted cuts up my arm. I filled the two syringes that would be the ticket out of my misery on the bed next to me. I picked up the paper and wrote three words, the black stood out on the pristine white paper.
CONTROL
FREEDOM
PEACE
When the Cullens come home and find me and wonder why I did this and they look at the paper besides me they will know why I am sticking the needle in my vein and the other. Why my vision is getting blurry, why everything is feeling right why for once I feel happy, I feel that for good now that everything is going to be ok. Why I died with a smile on my face.
Why I died October 13th 2009 in Forks Washington, at the tender age of 17.