Will Love Ever Save Me?
Chapter one: Tragic
I DON'T REMEMBER what
it was like when I was born, or what it felt like to gasp my
first breath of life's blossomed air, or who the hell my mother
was, but I know one thing for sure: I curse that day. I always
thought that maybe in my past life I was a cat or a dog or some
sort of house animal, and I loved my owners; but one day, I got
the rabies from a neighbor's dog and I went crazy and killed my
family. So in order to pay for my murders, God killed me and sent
me into this human body to be tortured how ever He liked.
Or at least that's all
I can think of. I'm five right now. Daddy tells me about God and
the angels. Mostly when he's drunk - but he still tells me. He
told me about Noah and the arch and how Noah gathered two of each
kind of animals and saved them. I sometimes wish I could have
been saved. But I don't think Noah likes me. Daddy says your
heritage is everything and all a man really has is his name. Noah
doesn't like me because of my name and who my parents are. But I
don't think he understands that they aren't my real
parents. I hate my foster parents.
Daddy's name is Steve
and he works as a mechanic. He's gone all day and comes back with
Hooter's breath. Mommy isn't any better. She's gone all day too.
She says she works but she's always bringing home men who aren't
Daddy. She whispers into my ear "When Daddy calls knock on the
door, but never - never Pricilla, enter." She kisses my cheek and
hurries back into the bedroom. I sit on the window sill and
color. I draw a lot of pictures. I sometimes doodle out figures
of mommies and daddies and make them smile a lot. The mommy and
daddy in the pictures smile at me because they love me.
I lock up all of those
pictures in my treasure chest where Mommy and Daddy can't find
them. The always rip my pictures. They say art is for stupid
depressed people who can't go out and make something of
themselves. I try not to listen to them. One day, I fall asleep
on the window sill while drawing the rain. I am using a broken
gray crayon and coloring in the clouds when I stop and stare out
the window and to the small drops of water pounding the ground. I
wish I could be the rain.
Each drop is on their
own free to flutter in the puddles. Nobody tells them what to do
or how to act or what to believe. They are just themselves. They
are the rain. I close my eyes thinking about that. And I fall
asleep. Deeper and deeper I went into my dark dream as my cheek
burned cold from the glass of the window. I felt at ease, I felt
solitude, I felt quite. Even the moans from my mother's bedroom
couldn't keep me from feeling like the rain. But when I was
awoken, that was the worst feeling.
I heard Mommy scream.
Her voice like that sent shivers through my blood. I open my eyes
and look away from the window. I saw Daddy pull on her hair and
smash her body into the wall. He yells "You fuckin' whore!" I
notice that she is naked. Her dirty blonde hair is smothered in
blood and she is crying hysterically. I just stare. I can't do
anything. I am the rain; rain doesn't do anything. Another man
comes out of the bedroom in crimson boxers. He yells at Daddy to
get off of her. They start fighting, throwing fists into the air,
making each other bleed. I cradle into the corner of the window.
My back freezes with the cool glass pressed against it.
Daddy throws down the
thin man and he falls on top of Mommy. She isn't moving, she
isn't breathing. Daddy lights a cigarette and takes a low inhale.
He doesn't see me. I'm invisible, just like the rain; clear,
translucent, cold, small, wet, and alone. He doesn't see the
rain. He takes a long drag and stares at the bodies on the floor.
The man is moving barely, my mother bleeding and still. Daddy
takes a bottle from the kitchen, opens it and pours it on them. I
feel the smell wafting around me and I close my eyes, trying to
lull it out. I open them a second later and watch as my father
throws his cigarette on Mommy and the man.
They immediately flame
and I hear a shrill of screaming. Daddy dispenses out of the
small house seconds later. I am left. I stare at my Mommy and her
friend being burned. I don't scream, I don't move, I don't do
anything. I am the rain, and rain doesn't burn.
Rain doesn't do
anything, it just is.