CHAPTER 1: In Summary...
I wondered lightly if death could be merged with life as I tiptoed upon the dark shadows that hung from the gallows of the bright room. Bright? But nothing could be seen. Only reflections of images flashed in my mind, but what did they mean? Money, knife, blood.
It was difficult to comprehend what they symbolized, but in truth the answer was right before me. I hadn’t recognized the wrongs that I had committed, for wrong was only characterized by what, in my opinion was right and wrong. The thoughts left like bits of sand scattering upon a sand dune, swirling into oblivion as the gales of night delivered them to their resting position. Where was my resting position?
Where were the thoughts? You know the ones I had before…even the goddamned ones that replaced them would be significant. But none came. Blankness surrounded me as darkness settled, but the desire to feel still remained, masked by the futile actions of her. Who was she? I didn’t remember at the time, but I knew from that moment that I hated her with a burning passion that smoldered within me. It tossed and turned like a sea, refusing to be conquered by the calming breeze. Not even the pleas would soften that fire that wished to scorch every bone into ash, to wrap my delicate fingers around her horrid throat and watch her squack with agony as the very breath she mustered up was drawn from her. Yes, that was what I truly wanted. I wanted to scream to the heavens how I had won, but I had not. These feelings, even as strong as they were brought no thoughts.
That grin, the one where those dull brown eyes glazed over with a condescending nature glared at me. What caring was there? That bitch, that rotten, filthy bitch. She hadn’t loved me, but she had loved the manipulation involved in killing me – but no, she couldn’t get away with the physical side of murder. But my soul. Had it gone forever, had my personality that everyone had adored ceased to exist? Perhaps, the psychosis that I recognized in her had finally taken its course in me. I wondered if it was possible, but then, I remembered. Anything was possible, especially in the twisted reality that I somehow found a way into every waking moment of my life. Sometimes I wished she would just kill me…either that or to do it myself. I was not choosy when it came to death, and at this point, I felt no fear towards the essence of death or pain. As long as I didn’t have to see that fucking evil woman for the rest of my life, I didn’t fucking care!!!
There was a worse bit to my story that I have not revealed to you.
I had no clue that my life was a complete lie, I had no idea that everyone I had become so fond of could be taken in the blink of the eye. I didn’t know of her utter supremacy, didn’t know that I would always lose. I knew nothing until this moment in which I speak to you.
Soft mud pressed against the pink bottoms of my feet, the warm waters gushing against my toes as I stood there, taking in the sudden warmth that had possessed me. The world around me hummed with liveliness as I wafted in the sweet scent of roses, daisies – every flower in the world I smelled in a gorgeous array of happiness. Each symbolized something in my life that was going well. But, I was sheltered from the sun, and it’s rays could neither nourish me nor discipline me for staying out too long under their golden goodness.
The calling came, shrill in the air as I skittered a bit to the left, following the trail I had left back to the small white house. It was mostly wooden and small, sitting on top of a hill. Most would describe it as an old country home, made specifically for a well-off family. Neat bushes dotted its exterior, flowers sprouting from beds of mulch. On the outside, the house was a bit weathered from years of tear, but it was obvious that the man of the house had kept it looking quite fine. A rickety old ramp stood next to the house, allowing any visitor or even the ones who dwelled in this house access. Yes, it did seem like a nice little place, separated from the world. I had another name for this so-called wonderful place: hell. But, why would the poor old woman who only did good in her life be the devil?
Sunlight cascaded in through my window as my hazel eyes blinked open with the slightest amount of hesitancy at first. Morning. It was hardly a pleasant time, and this time I woke up to the droning sound of screams resonating throughout the house.
Just a few more moments…just a few more I yawned, kicking my pale legs over the edge of the bed, regardless of how much my body refused. For a moment, I thought of pleading out of getting dressed, going to school – loathing the work. I knew already what the answer would be. Why, it would be yes, mostly due to the fact that she was on another rampage.
Quickly, I went through the motions in what would seem to be a relatively normal day. My name was Sarah, and that is all you need to know as of now. I tread lightly throughout the rickety old house, glancing tentatively at the dog shit that she had left now for three days. Being only fourteen, I debated within myself whether or not to clean it up. God only knew when she would get around to it. It didn’t help the situation that clutter was piled up at all sides, making it difficult to maneuver through the house.
Walking in the kitchen, the first smell that wafted through my nostrils was quite putrid. There, she was screaming that the mice she had poisoned in her kitchen had crawled up and died in the cabinets. But, one smell told me that it was not rotting mice she smelled, but the rotten potatoes she had left sitting on the stove for days. It was confirmed to her when my grandfather sauntered into the room and cleaned up the mess.
Splatters, All over the house and I found it repulsive to live in such a downright pig sty. I felt like I was being held prisoner in my own home…by her…by the clutter…by the stench of failure on her behalf to tidy up her life. I made it my objective to endure it, if only by a thread clinging to the hope that I would someday be free of their clutches. Someday, I would be able to have friends that they didn’t try to chase away. Someday, I would be happy. But today wasn’t that day, and I knew sure as hell that it wouldn’t be the next.
This was just a game of mice and cat, for I was the poor mouse who would end up with his heart torn in half by the savage beast of a cat. This cat was so conflicted though, for she was seen by a gently companion to her friends but a terror to me.
This was my terrified universe. This was where I had to dwell in solitude from the world, where I had to grow up separated. Segregated. I felt like a lion that was trapped in his cage, one who was ready to roar, to escape and to finish off his captors slowly, painfully. I couldn’t though. I wouldn’t. They would just blame me again, like last time. They would just call me crazy; order me to be put away for years again. Anything was better than here. Anything was better than this miserable reality that I was living in.
What was real, what was not?
The answer escaped me at the moment, but please do let me tell of the most horrid days of my life and how the course of the story goes.
CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON