Roses and Thorns
Disclaimer: There will be many dark themes within this story. This includes but is not limited to. Murder, Suicide, Rape, Physical abuse, Neglect. There will be mature content not suitable for young readers. I do not expect you to enjoy this story. If you do then please let me know. If not well… I did warn you. Expect graphic language, Gore, Violence, and more. Some of the events within the story are a reflection of things that I went through in life. I am not at liberty to tell you which ones. Do not ask, I won't answer. This is my way of working through what I have been through in my life in a medium that does not need me to explicitly state what I want through. If this is a story that you relate to then please for all that is holy find help. Seek therapy. Remove yourself from the environment that is putting you through the things that are depicted in this story. True strength is admitting that you need help and seeking it. NOT sticking around and hoping that things will get better if you wait longer.
Life sprouts in the least likely of places but only grows when given the care needed to thrive.
The cold air kissed me upon my nose. My vision was blurry. I gurgled and chortled in a voice I don't remember. The light was bright in my eyes. I could hear the sound of sobbing and sorrow. The entreating death wails met my ears and thrummed something deep within me. I could not help it, my new found voice joined the wails in a cacophony of pain and fear. Gentle hands covered in something rubber like wrapped around me and lifted me up. My vision further blurred from the movement. "shhhh, shhhh, it will be okay little one. It will be just fine." A deep voice with a southern draw met my ears and comforted me. The other sobs from in the room did not stop but I felt mine gently leave.
More movement came from around me and the sobs slowly disappeared as I was led away. I took the time to look around and see my surroundings. The man holding me was dressed in white. He smelt of disinfectant and cheap cologne. An acrid smell that tickled the inside of my nose. He laid me upon a bed and swaddled me, always gentle but his hands always covered by the gloves. I could not make out his face but his deep voice and words soothed me until I fell asleep.
Upon waking I was disturbed by being in a new bed. This one not as soft as the last. It's coarse linen rubbing upon my exposed skin. A woman loomed over me. She didn't speak. She looked at me and I looked at her. Our eyes a battle of wills. Slowly something moved over my face, and it became hard to breathe. My struggles were worthless against the weight placed upon me. Fear blossomed and peaked within me. Gnawing like a starving wolf on my mind. The pressure increased and I struggled weakly to take any breath. Then the object was removed from my face, and I gasped as the air met my lungs. The woman was gone. There was a clamor somewhere nearby. Shouting and screaming. It wasn't until then that I realized the screaming was me.
The fear and terror kept on building in me. My lungs worked and burned with anguish as my body struggled to choose between breathing or screaming. My wails warbled the air. The shouting around me faded and the man from before loomed over me. His white clothes and gloved hands are a reminder of the prior time I had met him. His gentle deep voice soothed me, and I steadily began to breath again as my screams declined. I never saw the woman again after that, not that I would want to. But looking back years later it had donned on me that that was the first and last time I ever saw my mother. Can't blame her knowing what I do now. Her actions, if they were followed through, would have been a better outcome than the events that transpired. This is my story. It's nice to meet you, friend. I am Rowan Calix Noland. Sit with me for a while as I tell you the story of a boy, and of a monster.