------------------------Born Of Darkness, Forced Into Light---------------------------------
Since I’d been a child I’d been a writer, other parents read their kids fairy tales with happy endings, they decorated their rooms with balloons and sang happy little songs.
My parents raised me the way they viewed life, my bed time stories were the real brothers Grimm fairytales, tales meant to scare me. They read Stephen Kings, every novel, even Gerald’s Game, they spared me none of the cusses or the sex scenes, I got it all.
Mind dipped in the darkness of this world since birth, my room has always been painted black and scarlet red, my parents say darkness and blood are the foundation of the world we live in.
Learning everything I spent my first seven years of childhood with my parents, then that unfortunate day they were taken away. I didn’t understand at the time, all I know is that people were disappearing in my town and then my parents were taken away by the police.
Sanctuary is no way to spend your childhood, people didn’t understand me, they didn’t laugh at my dark jokes and they called me names. Mean names that cut right down to the bone, I never knew words could hurt but they did, they hurt me more than the physical abuse.
The priests said it was the will of God, I didn’t understand, I was only seven. They said God created the world, that they represented him and that we had to do everything they said or else they would tell God on us.They touched me, I told them to stop but they didn’t, they said if I told anyone God would strike me down.
When I refused they would hit me, they slapped me across the face, they would put my hand on the table and whip a baton against my fingers, shattering my knuckles. Sometimes I tried to run, they would break my chins and ankles with a sledge hammer, I was their toy and they would never let me go.
I was their toy until I hit puberty, they don’t like older boys, but they could never let me go, I had seen and been through too much. They threw me into the dungeons, when I screamed the priest I came to know as Paul came down and cut out my tongue. I bled so much that night, I screamed but no noises came out of my mouth.
My hair was disheveled, I hadn’t changed clothes since my first day and it was too short, full of holes and mold. I stopped wearing them when I turned fifteen, the priests kept me alive but only barely, the beatings had stopped but the solitude was worse.
The only way to keep my sanity was to adapt, I came to the conclusion that life was all darkness and no joy. I’d established this fact in my head, happiness and smile was a myth, I never seen the priests smile even when they had their hands down my pants, I never seen them smile when they hit me across the face with their belts.
Sometimes they come down when they are furious, they say the rules have changed, that they can’t hit kids anymore. They vent on me every day, they slap me around, sometimes the force me to bend over and rape me, and I try to resist but I’m so weak I can’t.
It hurts so much! It goes in and out, deeper and deeper and harder and faster and it hurts! I lash back but it’s weak, then they hit me back and force themselves on me again. Sometimes they press their lips against mine, their dry old men lips against my own chapped lips.
It’s a dark fortune that they cut my tongue out; the taste of them on me would never leave me. I’m scarred for life, they cut me and let me bleed and then they would come and stitch me up, and then I would get infected. I got sick countless times, I lost count, the stench of my vomit, my shit, my urine and sweat fill this place, and I can’t smell it anymore.
I don’t remember how light looks like, the closest to light I see is a light bulb that flickers above me, swinging. I hear the doors open, I know what’s coming but this time it’s different. Different voices, a lot of voices, the men that come look different, they were uniforms, cops.
I see younger priests, they look horrified at the sight of me, of my cell, of everything. The cops open the cell door and I run away, they catch me and I struggle and they don’t hurt me. I stop and look at the confusedly, not understanding, isn’t that how things are supposed to work, when I struggle I get hurt?
They wrap blankets around me, the priests say they had no idea this place existed, they mutter under their breaths and the police bring me down the dark hallway I had walked into six years ago, those days I can barely remember as my own, more like memories that are in my head but that can’t possibly be mine.
The stairs creak as they lead me up, my legs are shaky, I never walked this far, my legs are skinny and purely bone, only meat enough to keep me from falling apart completely. The door opens and a flashing light comes into my eyes, it’s filtered through colored windows and attacks me.
The cop blocks my eyes; he pulls the sunglasses from his vest and places them on my face. I find the world is bright, I have to squint but it doesn’t hurt as much, I was certain the world was all darkness. Children stare at me with amazement, nuns and priests gasp.
It’s so warm here, the floor feels so odd, I’m not walking in my own excrements, I’m walking on a clean floor.Everything is so clean, everything is so nice, I don’t understand, I thought I had everything figured out. I knew the world was evil, that people were evil and that misery was forever, now I see this, and I’m confused.
Everything moves like a blur to me, the people with their cameras, taking pictures and pointing microphones at me, cops lead me to the car. I get in, they find me clothes and they clean me, I can’t clean myself, I don’t know how.
I eat my first real meal, I feel like I could eat forever, this food is hot and it’s fresh. It’s filled with flavors that explode in my mouth. I smell nice, I didn’t know nice was a word but now I smell nice, they washed my hair for hours and it’s soft. It’s curly, the cut it and it goes down to my neck now.
Each time someone comes near me I flinch, I can always feel it, I can still feel them inside of me, I can imagine them hitting me. Instead they smile, I don’t understand, what is this suppose to mean? When they smile is it because they are happy? How can they always be happy? Don’t they know the world is evil?
God never did strike me down, the priests never touched or hurt me again, when they brought me to the new home the family smiled, why must everyone smile? They made a promise that I would never be hurt, they listen to music with words like dream and joy.
They go to church but never make me go, I thought we had to go to church, or that God would kill us. I was so sure God was going to kill me, and that if priests said do something you do it. I don’t understand what these people are doing, they never leave me alone, I lived six years alone and now I can never be alone.
They think there is something wrong with me, they treat me nice and they love me but they lose patience. I’m no responding, I don’t know how to smile, I don’t know how to feel this thing they call joy. Now I’m with a new family, I have to start over again but I know it won’t. It will never work because I was born of darkness and forced into the light.
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