Chapter 4
Making him grow weaker wasn't my best bet over all. He knew how to make me feel so miserable, nothing could make me laugh. I was miserable. But, my weekly visit to Grandma Wilson's wasn't all that bad. I could manage the occasional smile and laugh once or twice. It hurt me though. The trumpet was dying. Not physically, but emotionally and mentally.
"You are weak." *Gasping for breath* You won't hurt me. "No." What are you going to do for me then? "Make you wish you were dead." Why me? Why do you want to do this? "Because, dear one, I loath that trumpet. Makes me hurt, makes me feel weak. But you're pain makes me feel stronger." At that moment, I felt like I had recessed back farther into myself than I ever had. That was rock bottom for me. I was curled up in the darkest corner of my soul gasping for breath.
Grandma and Grandpa Wilson decided to take us to the old house where Roger and I lived before the accident. I didn't really know what was going on at the time, but the Tiger kept pacing back and forth so I knew that something was up. We arrived at the house and we sat in front of it. The Tiger roared and screamed inside of me as I kept cringing and screaming along with him He stopped after a few minutes and let out a low growl. The porch swing was moving back and forth with no one in it. A faint outline of a lady could be seen there. Mom! "No. Not anymore." B..but it's her, look over there. The shadow got up and walked towards the steps that led down to the path towards the streets and walked down them. The shadow disappeared after it got halfway down the path. All the while, the Tiger humming a tune.
Looking back at this, I think that Mom was waiting for us. She always sat on the porch swing waiting for us to return home from various activities. I think she wanted to know that we were ok and being looked after. I think that's what she needed to move on.
The Tiger always seemed to like my mom, I guess. He always purred to himself and be sleepy when I was around her or sitting in her lap. I guess that's one thing I had to give up when she died. I had to learn how to calm him down and control him.
"What are you doing, Rachel?" Trying to learn the tune you always used to hum. "Why would you do that?" Because it will be something we will have in common. "We all ready have something in common." What's that? "We thirst for anger. We want to feel pain." You're wrong. I want to be happy. "You don't even know what that means." If it means making you hum, I will do whatever it takes to make you sing along. It's what makes you happy. And if you're happy, I too shall be.
Roger and I moved from one foster home to another for a few years. Sometimes we'd go together and sometimes we'd go separately. The Tiger would be fussy after every move, making me more and more exhausted. I had post traumatic stress disorder and he didn't really help with my condition. Some days he would scream until I would pass out from the exhaustion and some days he would sit there staring at the trumpet. But most of all, he grew. Every year I grew, twice as much would he. He would feed off of my exhaustion. But I could feel myself becoming able to control him. I could feel myself growing happier. I had decided to pick myself up and shake off the dirt. Enough was enough. I couldn't rely on other people to control what I was becoming. I had to do it, and only me. I could feel myself growing stronger as a person. I was the strongest five year old out there and I was sure as hell going to show it.