The Boy at the End of the Tunnel (Part 8.2)

The Taunting Past II

As I grew, I understood that my mother had died, and she was never coming back.  According to the police report she died in a car accident after speeding on a wet road.  I don’t know exactly what happened, but I was certain that it was not a simple accident.

For years my father blamed me for his misery and after her death, he blamed me even more.  He constantly blabbered that her death was my fault.  That she left because of me and went to the police, because of me.  In more than one way he had confessed he had something to do with her death, but there was never a clear answer.  What I could decipher from his drunken outbursts, was that she went to report him to the police, but he somehow found out her whereabouts and before she could reach the station, she died in a car accident.  Obviously, he was chasing after her, but I had no evidence to put him in jail, and I was just a kid at the time, so my hands were tied.

That beast also made sure I lost all contact with the outside world.  As I was growing up, I didn’t even go to school and all I needed was provided, in order for me to stay inside.  He said that it was dangerous outside, so I was safer there.  He declared to love and care for me, but whenever I “disobeyed” him, he would curse my very existence and pummel me with all the hate he had backed up.  I constantly wondered what I had done to ever deserve that.  Just being alive was my sin, but I refused to die, I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why should I die and not him.  He was the monster, not me.

I was 11 when I decided to escape that man’s delusions and build a new life for myself.  Years of neglect and abuse had turned my heart to stone, and my blood had run cold.  If it meant to take action with my own hands, then so be it.  Every Friday night the man would go out and drink, he’d come home around dawn, wake me up and “relieve” his anger with me while crying his heart out.  And every Friday I became more determined.

That night I waited for him in my room.  I sat on my bed with a kitchen knife in hand.  I grabbed it with both hands as my sweaty palms trembled from fear.  As usual, the man came late.  I heard his footsteps approach my door, each step came closer and closer and…  They stopped right in front of my door.  My heart was racing, my pupils dilated, my entire body was shaky, and I perspired a feverish sweat.   My palpitations were worse than usual, my mind played with me and I began to have second thoughts.

He wobbled the doorknob and the creaking sound of the door opening was heard.  I tightened my grip whist holding the knife, to the point my fist went numb.  He slowly entered the room with his usual alcohol stench.  He looked at me and smiled, the sight of the knife came to no surprise.

“Are you going to stab me with that? You?” He madly chuckled.  “Go ahead”

I jumped out of bed with the intention of stabbing him, but as soon as I pointed the blade towards him, my hand froze along with my entire body.  He grabbed the hand that held the knife and whispered, “do it”.  By the shock I dropped the weapon and fell to the ground after pushing him away.  He grabbed the knife, I panicked and all I could think of was to cover my face.

Seconds later I felt something wet dripping from above me.  I uncover my face and see the man right in front of me, with the knife piercing his chest, showering me with his blood.  He went down on his knees in front of me, and in a weak agonizing voice he said, “Are you happy to be free now?”. He fell on top of me and I just sat there for a while, bathing in a pool of his blood.

I didn’t know what to do so I ran away, as far as I could and drenched in blood I cried in the middle of the street.  Was it really over? Was I finally free? But then, what will happen now?  I cried myself to sleep in the corner of a store.  The next day a girl a couple of years older than me, came to me and handed me a scarf.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but it’s really cold out, you should cover yourself.  If you have no place to go, you should come with me”

She extended her hand and I grabbed it. She smiled and I followed.  I don’t know where, but wherever it was it had to be better than here.

We arrived to a big house, a foster home.

“We’re here” she vividly said.

A woman came out, surprised she ran to me and with a worried expression, she mumbled words I didn’t understand.  She covered me with a coat and led me inside, along with the other girl.  The girl and I became rather close, but we never really spoke of what happened to me.

“Why do you always look so lonely” asked the girl one day

“Because I am” I said, “aren’t you?”

“nope, I’m not…I got my mom, my sisters and you”

“your mom?” I scoffed

“Tho she’s not really my mother, she has taken care of me ever since my mom died.  She was her friend and I was put on her care after her death…Oh and she gave me this” she showed me a necklace of an angel “she said it belonged to my mother and that it would always protect me.  So, in some way I like to think she’s still here.  You shouldn’t be lonely either, you have us now”.  After she said that, she gave me a motherly smile.

I sneered and looked away.  “Good that you have such fond memories, but I don’t.” I didn’t really care about her little sob story either.  She observed me with pity, as I walked towards the window. There was a flower bed by it that always made me feel at ease, so I would stare at it nonstop.

“Do you like flowers?” asked one of the girls from the house. She was around my age, but I barely ever talked to her.

“not really, they just smell nice”

“I know right?  Lai…Juliana is a nice girl, she’s only trying to help, you know that right?”

“I know, but I don’t need her or anyone’s pity, I’m different from you guys.  I don’t belong here”

“And what makes you think you’re that different from us?  We all carry a cross that is hard to bear, so we should all help lessen the weight, don’t you think?”  she smiled and went to Juliana.

Her words resonated in my head, I knew she was right but if I opened up to someone, would they still like me? And my cross was heavy enough, so I didn’t need more weight over me. I had made up my mind that I would spend the rest of my life living like a passerby, never involving myself in anything else.

A couple of months later, the foster mother knocked on my door.  She opened it and with a pained expression she prompts me to follow her.  By the kitchen I saw a familiar face, my grandmother.  She searched everywhere for me and finally found me.

I was happy to see her, yet for some reason I was sad that I was leaving the place.  The foster mother hugged me and wished me a happy life.  I left the house without turning back.  I knew that getting to attached to someone, would be too painful for me.

My father’s death was disregarded as a suicide and my grandmother gained custody over me. I decided to forget everything and start a new life together with my grandmother.  I spent four years in therapy and trying to catch up in school, and finally enrolled in a normal school, when I entered high school.

I had repressed all those memories in order to live a normal life, but there are just some things you can’t detach yourself from.

To be continued…

By Jess

Music: Farewell life by ARN ANDERSSON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Categories Fiction, Series

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