Hello, I introduce myself.
My name is Monic Brandford, and I am a bitch.
I have always been for as long as I can remember, my father told me all the time, and I was always despicable to anyone who ever tried to be kind to me in any way.
I had four courtships in all my entire life, the damned third being the one who somehow managed to get me pregnant with an unbearable child no matter how sterile I was at all.
I've never been a fan of children. And I always recommend to others not to have them.
and you will wonder: Why do you say that Monic?
And I would answer you with: Because they ruin everything.
Your life, your future, your figure, your dreams, everything.
They absolutely ruin everything.
As soon as you have one, just one, you can say goodbye to all those things. you completely ruined your life the moment you decided to father a boy or girl, you can't back down anymore sis, the moment you hold your little abomination in your arms, look him in the eye and allow him to feed on you ..., you will really believe for a few seconds that ... Maybe being a mother is not such a bad thing.
That ... maybe having a child is not so different or difficult to have and take care of a pet.
That ... maybe you will be able to be happy while raising one completely alone ...
... even after knowing that his cursed biological father left without saying a single word, he left you all alone in the hospital bed, stunned and holding what is also supposed to be his newborn son ... even with that ... you will continue to believe that you are capable of taking care of him.
You'll be an fool then.
... Very soon you will realize that no, you cannot do it alone, you will discover it when your spawn sets fire to that kindergarten in which you left him to take care of him, while you went and worked until you were exhausted in a freaking Wendy's.
And you will have memories, constant, traumatic and horrible memories that will not let you sleep, how that day, that terrifying day, in which you still worried about the welfare of your child, you ran, you ran as fast as you had ever run before, and without caring about your own well-being, you jumped through a damn window and went into that burning kindergarten to rescue him, when you discovered that your son was the only one of the children who was not evacuated from the burning establishment.
Then you will remember having seen, your son, the blood of your blood, that being that you carried 9 months in your womb ..., stopped in place, staring at the fire that threatened to swallow him in an almost hypnotic way.
Then you would pretend that that day never happened, and without saying a single word more, you will remember only having taken him by the hand, his very delicate, small and plump hand, and together, you and your son, would come out of the fire that suddenly did not burn, and you would take him later to eat guaffles with extra mapple syrup ... Because you know that was his favorite food.
You would know how much he loved those guaffles.
You will still remember how your little son smiled like a big doofus as he ate them and got all over his face dirty.
You would think it was kind of funny to see him so happy after he started a fire.
That was the first hint I had, that I can still remember in my experience as a mother, that my child was not normal, and probably never would be no matter what I said or did.
My son, my Bartolomew Brandford, the creature I gave birth to ... was a free spirit, one who enjoyed destroying and bringing misery to whoever will show affection.
Because, that fire in the kindergarten in which I had left it, was the first of many that my Bartolomew would cause throughout his life.
Forest fires, vandalism of private property, copyright infringement, assault on public figures, etc etc, my innocent little Bartolomew had not even reached his teens and he had already been guilty of all those things.
It was a monster without chains.
and I, his mother, Monic Branford, had to be the one in charge of doing something to stop him.
I did what I had to do.
What no one else could.
I locked him in our dark basement.
I chained him to the water heater.
I stripped him of his clothes.
I started feeding him with bad food.
But ... no matter what I did to my own son.
... He will kept giving me his smile.
It was the smile of a child who would love his mother to the end no matter what.
My Bartolomew did not care at all how badly, I, his own mother will treat him.
He decide on his own that he will love me.
My Bartolomew would not change for anyone, and no matter what, he would never stop loving me ...
He was weird like that.
Then I had my fourth courtship, I still remember it. His name was Jeremy, he was the same cop who had been catching my son lately.
It was during that moment, in which Jeremy brought a bit of normality back to my daily life, that I made my decision, it was in summer when I decided ..., when I decided that I never wanted to see my own son.
That I wanted my life back.
It was during the beginning of the summer when I left him alone and with his eyes covered in the middle of the street.
When I told him that we would play hide and seek, he was extremely excited when I told him that we would play together, and he continued to be even when I instructed him to close his eyes with his bare hands and count to a thousand, since I would be the one to hide ...
... And he would be the only one who would look for me.
when my son closed his eyes ... I ran away ... I ran away from him, my responsibility, back to my home, shutting myself up in it, I hurried up and called Jeremy, and told him between cocodrile tears and broken words what I had done to him, my own son.
... He told me ... that I had done the right thing by taking him away from me ... and him ..., and that I didn't have to feel bad.
That my Bartolomew could not be fixed anyway, and that the only thing I had done wrong was not having asked him to do it for me.
It was a difficult few months that I passed after I got rid of my own son.
Jeremy was there for me the entire time, he even moved in with me.
It was a more than wonderful year that I can never forget where I had finally regained my precious normality together with Jeremy without the presence of my son.
A whole year.
It was a whole year ... what it took my Bartolomew to find me again and ruin everything.
When he found me, he was dirty, his hair was completely untidy, he reeked of a wet dog, and it was obvious from his ragged and stretched clothes that someone had probably tried to tear them or forcibly remove them.
'¡Yeah! ¡At last I found you mommy! ', That's what my son had happily barked at the moment of our reunion.
His teeth were also very yellow.
'...', my only response at that moment was to keep quiet, to stand still and let him into his home.
'¡Yay!' He celebrated and proceeded to remove his own clothes and happily went straight to the basement ..., his room.
When Jeremy found out my son was back ... He was furious.
Furious enough that his face turned crimson and a few throbbing veins could be visible on his neck.
I was not surprised by his reaction, and much less was I not surprised that by next summer he was in charge of throwing my son away in some other place far away from us.
This time Jeremy personally took it upon himself to convince my son that if at some point he or I left him alone somewhere, it was because he was starting his summer vacation and he should go out and have fun with all kinds of strangers with Total freedom.
And of course, my weird son believed him completely, even knowing that he didn't even attend school anymore.
It was another year that we went through without knowing anything about him.
Another year where our lives felt completely normal ... until my son somehow managed to find me again on his own.
That time, He was dressed like a clown.
Jeremy had left him at the circus.
Whenever I was reunited with him, I felt like my son always came up with many more problems behind him.
His smile, every time looked more false ... more ... fractured.
My son carried too many problems ..., and he never tried to do less of them.
Problems that I was sure were never mine or Jeremy's.
My son was alone.
His biological father, Jeremy and I let him suffer alone.
Fate brought him into the world to be alone and suffer alone.
That was how things were ..., I'm not to blame for anything.
My son ruined my life ... and then he took it upon himself to ruin his too.
I am not to blame for anything.
My son is to blame for everything.
He is the only one to blame.
I'm not a bad person ... I never saw myself as one, I'm just ... a bitch.
.
.
.
Cruel and ironic fate, ¿why?
.
.
.
Why couldn't you have just left me dead and at peace when I got intoxicated with those stupid cheap seafood instead of reincarnating me as a stupid dog in a cartoon world.
God, what did I do to deserve a punishment like this?
"Mom, hurry up! We are going to miss the fireworks"
Let out a sigh upon hearing the annoying Shetland Sheepdog puppy.
My annoying eight year old Shetland Sheepdog puppy.
My Bartolomew Shetland Second ... Or Bartolomew 2 if I feel lazy.
I gave him that name for my grandfather ... I only gave him number two because I thought it would be a little funny.
Not because I missed my first child.
I don't miss that monster ruining lives.
That monster is probably still looking for me right now.
"Come on mom, ¡Get up! The fireworks will start at any moment and I don't want to miss them "
I let out another annoyed sigh as I felt like my tail was being pulled into the jaws of my puppy, as he tried and failed to get me out of my doghouse.
One would really believe that someone like me, who lived a lifetime making mistakes, would learn from their worst failures and would truly make an effort not to make them again, now that I have literally gotten a second chance to live like a bitch both in body and soul .
"Tell your stupid father to take you" I said lazily as I went further into my doghouse, "I'm tired"
"I already asked him!", I heard him bark, "H-he told me to ask you"
"If he doesn't want to go with you either, then go by yourself", I said annoyed, "Your older brother would have gone alone instead of bothering your father or me with his silly childish whims"
"B-b-but ... Humm"
Ooh here we go again, the annoying puppy wants to cry.
"... I don't-I don't want to go alone ", he said, it was obvious by his weak tone that he was doing the best he could not to cry," I-I want to go with you and Dad to see the fireworks "
What a nuisance.
I still don't know why the human who cares for me and his father wanted to keep one of the four puppies I had instead of selling them all online.
My race is not at all cheap for all I know, if that human were wiser, he would surely have done what I, and would have sold them all instead of leaving one.
"For the last time, I don't care what you want Bart, get lost ", I growled annoyed as I retract my tail to myself and made myself more comfortable inside my doghouse, "The door is always open, just don't forget to let your father know that you are leaving if you still want to see the fireworks, I don't want him to go crazy if he realizes that you left without saying anything ", All I heard as Bartolomew second's response was silence.
After a few seconds I could clearly hear him mutter the words that I always wanted to have heard from my first Bartholomew.
"... I hate you"
I smiled like I feel hadn't done for a long time, hearing those desired words come out of my Bartolomew Second's snout.
My smile quickly disappeared and was lost in a sea of emptiness, when the feeling of satisfaction that I thought so much I had sought settled inside me.
For my second son to despise me ... it didn't feel at all the way I thought it would ... even if I knew I deserved it.
I really hated my bipolarity.
it makes it really hard to feel anything related to self-satisfaction and fulfillment when I finally get what I've been looking for for so long.
I let out an annoyed sigh.
I can't sleep anymore.
Not while I feel empty inside.
I step out of my doghouse, and a carpeted room with four white walls filled with musical instruments receives my vision.
There were many electric and acoustic guitars with different designs and colors placed on each wall.
It was very annoying to know that the human who owned all these musical instruments had not the slightest idea of how to play or hold one correctly, and only got them online because he was some kind of collector.
I shook my head from those thoughts and headed myself across the room, jumped on one of the white nightstands that was parked in one of the corners of the room, and very carefully took one of the white acoustic guitars out of the white wall with my front paws.
I paused momentarily to check it out and tune the white guitar before maneuvering it over my shoulder along with its strap and strapping it across my back.
Done that, I went in silence to the roof of our home.
Play something always helped me stop feeling empty inside.
As I was going down the hall I stopped and watched with little interest as one of the dimly lit rooms was occupied by the human who was taking care of me and Bartolomew's second father.
Both, an adult male Shetland Sheepdog and a skinny, pale human in their twenties wearing a black sweatshirt, were ...
"Wow, they've already gone three times in a row that I win. GG my pet"
"Why I can't even beat my dog!? Whyy !?"
... playing a video game of a wolf - puddle - something.
I rolled my eyes, is this what kept him so busy that he sent our puppy to bother me with watching the fireworks?
I'm not at all surprised.
This was completely what I would expect of him and the human, they would always lock themselves in, and play or prove silly beta games that were primarily aimed at a canine audience.
This, apparently, was a job that both dog and human were paid very well for.
I shook my head and resumed my walk towards the roof.
When I get to the roof, I was not surprised to find a lonely little Shetland Sheepdog puppy with his ears lowered waiting completely alone for the fireworks that would soon start to launch in the distance.
Soon my lonely second Bartolomew's ears perked up and he turned to see me in surprise.
"... Mom?"
"...", I ignored him, and moved on, sitting not far from him as I maneuvered the guitar on my back so that I had it in front of me, and concentrated only on starting to play something that I felt comfortable with.
"... I-I thought you were tired"
"...", I kept ignoring it as I focused more on making the last preparations before starting to play, testing some strings and checking the tone produced by each one of them.
I nodded to myself, it sounded perfect, just the way I wanted it to sound, I soon found myself using the tips of my claws to start playing the guitar, while staring and almost hypnotically in the distance Big Ben and the rest of London .
"Can you play guitar, mom?", I heard my second Bartolomew ask, while I just managed to see him approach me fearfully.
Soon I found myself having to accompany the soft melody produced by my guitar with my singing.
it was the same melody that brought back almost unwanted memories of my Bartolomew.
My always lost and confuse Boy.
(Ruth B - Lost Boy)
There was a time when I was alone
Nowhere to go and no place to call home
My only friend was the man in the moon
And even sometimes he would go away, too ...
then one night, as I closed my eyes
I saw a shadow flying high
He came to me with the sweetest smile
Told me he wanted to talk for awhile
He said "Peter Pan, that's what they call me
I promise that you'll never be lonely "
And ever since that day ... ~
I am a lost boy from Neverland
usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we're bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
"Run, run, lost boy" they say to me
"Away from all of reality"
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
he sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe
Believe in him and believe in me
Together we will fly away in a cloud of green
To your beautiful destiny
As we soared above the town that never loved me
I realized I finally had a family
Soon enough we reached Neverland
peacefully my feet hit the sand
And ever since that day ... ~
I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we're bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
"Run, run, lost boy" they say to me
"Away from all of reality"
neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, Wendy Darling
Even Captain Hook
You are my perfect story book
Neverland, I love you so
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last
And for always I will say ...
i am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we're bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
"Run, run, lost boy" they say to me
"Away from all of reality"
Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free
...
I sighed, putting the guitar away, and I stopped a little surprised when I felt a couple of tears originate in my eyes and fell very slowly on both sides of my snout.
Heh, this what happens when you play or do anything else implementing your heart.
You become vulnerable to your own past, and the things that you can no longer do anything to change tend to come back stronger to haunt you.
"Mom, a-are you feeling sad?"
No.
"... All the time"
"... W-why are you sad all the time mom?"
Why am I?
That question is a very easy one to answer.
"Your older brother" I replied in a sigh, "No matter what, I can't forget about him"
It's been more than twenty years since the last time I knew anything about him.
I've tried very seriously to forget it but I can't help but wait for the day he find me, knowing my Bartolomew, I know that he will find a way to do it.
My Bartolomew is too weird, stubborn and proud to not achieve something that he has been doing during in almost impossible circumstances before.
He will find me, and I will find him... it's only a matter of time.
... And I don't know how to feel about it.
"... oh ", I heard my second Bartolomew exclaim," What was he like mom, what was my older brother like? "
What was my Bartolomew like?
I see that my second Bartolomew only likes to ask the easier questions.
"... He was a exact copy of me"
Soon the fireworks began to sound in the background, but my second Bartolomew was now much more focused on me and the guitar that I was holding between my front paws than on them and the slight annoyance that listening to them brought with our most sensitive ears.
"Mom ... can you play one more song ... p-please"
(To be continue)
((AN: The reviews motivate me to continue writing this story. Please comment and let me know your opinion, thanks for reading))