The one where the devil
knocked down my castle
Thud, crack, thump.
I know what's happening. I know what's happening. Please god, stop what's happening.
Thud, crack, thump.
Please make it stop. Please make it stop. Stop their fighting before it goes too far.
Thud, crack, thump.
I'm hiding, praying for the madness to end. My parents screaming and fighting again. My younger brother sound asleep unaware of the breach in our home. What went wrong? Why aren't they happy? Was it me? Was it something I did?
Thud, shout, crash.
Maybe I should apologize. Yes, I should apologize. I step out of my room and head toward'\s my parent's. The dark, long, ominous hallway gives off the feeling of a death march. Teddy bear in hand I reach for the door knob. I turn it. I open the door.
I'm frozen.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby." , my mother weeps to me. But I am frozen. I stare at the suitcase and the hatred and anger in my father's movements until finally…finally…I run.
I was eight years old when my father left us. My brother was three. One day he was there and the next he wasn't. Some of you are probably reading this and thinking "divorce? Please I know people who've been through worse. Suck it up." It's funny cause for the longest I thought the same thing to myself. I tried to act like I didn't care cause divorce had become a common thing. I did my best to act as though everything was okay. But the more families that divorced and the more I saw the aftermath… I knew things were not normal.
My dad was gone. His body would pick my brother and I up and take us to our grandma's but the man that was my dad died. My dad never would've forced his girlfriend on me. My dad never would've cussed my mother out. My dad never would have cussed me out. My dad would never have married a whore. My dad would never have disowned me in a public area. My dad never would have forced my autistic brother out of the house with a kid who didn't know the difference between his brain and his ass. My dad wouldn't have married the whore. He never would have had two children with the gold-digging whore. He wouldn't have abused his power over her previous children and verbally and physically abused them when he felt necessary. My father was not a jackass.
I realize now that people change and not always for the better. It just never occurred to me that there would be nothing left over from their previous self.
In retaliation to these events I forced myself to grow up. I matured in a matter of months. I threw away the fairytales and the idea of marriage. The male species became the spawn of satin in my eyes. I assumed them all to be after cheap desires such as sex and money and avoided them at all costs. I shielded myself from people and refused to let them in. People equaled pain. Emotional, physical, psychological pain.
The devil had breached the walls of my castle. I was not damged, hurt, or wounded.
I was broken.
It wasn't permanent until I met them. They were cruel, loving, intelligent, vile, and crafty. They opened up new corners of the world to me only to turn out the lights when I needed them the most. Eventually I will introduce them to you but for now…
Let's call them the people.