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the devil in beautiful people
If someone asked me to label myself, I would say, "They say, I'm funny, nice, talented, etc." As I choose not to be labeled. Only to be known as a wildflower, the girl who loves Forget-me-not. As I am often forgotten myself, I can say I'm not done by a long shot. I've always been great at art, and this is where I excel. As I am very successful in every form, I would describe myself as an 'unfinished artist' standing alone in her category called *Crunique* which meant uniquely creatively and soon became my though out signature. I've had a lot of comments about me being a Jill in every way.".
"The devil was formerly an angel'" many would state. Perhaps they are correct! Perhaps, there can only be two sides, to every coin”
Being born with what the doctor called Split-Brain syndrome certainly didn't make my life any easier. Not to mention the fact that I failed to stem the emotional portion of the brain, which seemed to make me look emotionless. I would say this has made it difficult for me to socialize. Unless it piqued my interest, that is. Perhaps they mentioned that I failed in the first place. A detail that is bold as it seemed so easy to forget. Or Maybe it was just covering up a lot of truth with in knowing it.
I've never thought of myself as a victim not until recently that is. As I have noticed that I am very much a victim. When I was a child, I was put into the corrupt system of the nineties. At the time, it was an extremely broken, just, manipulative system. It had me defined as "The system kid" in school and labeled as the *poster child* for being problematic any other time. Just to be placed with families that were neglecting,
While silenced by those who preached, they knew better. To Tell me that I had no idea what I was talking about. As I was too stupid and not to speak. As it was considered a problem. Even to this day, it’s still an issue. While I stay silent has now become an issue, as I would get spoken to for not speaking. Being told it was rude or disrespectful.
Not having a say or a voice in what happens in my life truly bothered me. I was under the impression that no one had given me that opportunity as if I was not allowed to do so. What I considered to be my own emotions, what I knew as my thoughts, made me feel like I was wrong. I will admit I didn’t make the effort either. After a while, I just stopped trying.
So maybe the word victim isn’t a word I would use lightly on its own I mean. I can say I’ve been victimized in more ways than just one. It left me as an adult fearful. I became scared of everything. Not realizing it was instinctively drilled into my head. It wasn’t healthy! To understand it was traumatic. I was traumatized. I’ve lived a portion of my life unknown. Actually, I didn't care, so I didn't ask any questions.
I ’ve always just tried to embrace what life threw at me. Discreetly accepting what they would say would hurt me. As I am sitting here, all I can tell myself is, "I probably should have asked." I have lived a life, my life! I wouldn't change a thing based on my accomplishments. Learning from my mistakes to become smarter, realizing what many would tell me is either impossible or difficult.
Now that I am in my thirties, and I am also a single mother, I have come to realize that I am left in this state of confusion. Which I will be the first to say is far more terrifying than living a life unknown. To be forced to face reality only to recognize “The Devil in Beautiful People."
As another couple would walk into the room we looked over at them as they stuck their big heads in my face, displaying this sort of I’m a little crazy grin across their faces. One stood silently and watched just observing, as another would have smiled and waved. The last one would put her guard up and say- iuu“Don’t get too excited, you know we can’t trust them.” The lady was light-skinned, had blonde hair, the typical blue eyes.
The male was tall, looks like Charlie Sheen and Jim Carey mixed if you minus the lcomedic talent and the bad publicity of the other. When they got done introducing themselves they would usually follow their introduction with a little white lie. Which sounded a lot like, “and you can trust me.”
“Trust? What is trust?-’ I do remember thinking to myself. “Who were they?-“What did they want?” I’m sure they could see that my facial expression was giving off those questions.
The person they would end up calling mom, she came off as vindictive to one of us, controlling to another, as for the last one, she had viewed her as a challenge. They never learn when to “shut it kid” She often told their mom that “she was wrong.” if needed to be corrected. heir mom didn’t like that. As another one would mock their mom, mimicking the phrase said next with this wine tone, it would annoy her, running away to her husband. to blame it all on his wife.
As for the last one, she stayed quiet, just watching as their mom went off, getting red in the face telling them that,- “They’re just trying to pick a fight.” Her husband comes off as malicious, impulsive as well as a bit narcissistic, hypercritical, and viewed as slightly toxic. He carried the same mentality as a dog with behavioral issues. Avoiding what needs to be fixed. Honestly, they both had no problem lashing out and blaming me for their problems and then playing victim afterward. Never once would they apologize.
I had just got to the point of letting it happen and I accepted it. I had gotten used to it. Even though I knew deep down inside it wasn’t fair. they would always say to “Trust your gut feeling”- but made us feel like we had no idea what we were talking about.They would act as if w e were to have made the whole thing up. It left me crying, and upset. As one would start shouting that "She WASN'T lying-“ you never listen! If you guys get to know me.”
He would interfere by telling me -“Not to speak that way,” kicking me out. I would get even more upset and start to yell at them;- “It’s not fair, You’ve Never seen me for who I am. YOU NEVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND! YOU GUYS NEED TO STOPPED, NOT ME” Devastated as if I had failed him, but the sick realit y is he failed me. if I wasn’t good enough for a moment of his time, I wasn’t going to see him as a man. That’s what his wife was for. I’m not exactly sure what did to him, for him to be like that towards me.
I always thought it was because I didn’t want to go to music college or art school. Her husband would look at me like I should’ve pursued it. Like I could have done more. I began to see myself as useless, as he would say or that I’m “hopeless” or that I was “Stupid.” As he would tell me daily.
Truth was, I lost a lot of respect for him. I stopped looking up to him, stopped wanting to be around him, stopped caring, and became fearful of him. In reality, I knew he was just talking about his guilt of not pursuing his talent.
Now that’s stupid I don’t see him I see a hypocrite.I will never know what I did for them to hate me so much. I felt myself starting to give. upon them. Why would I want to be consistently dragged down, only to be reminded, when I had moved on They would claim they never did, or would ask:- hen did I ever say that? I’ve never said that!” Just to be told some hateful things that, well got oor sometimes mostly they would plain out deny it all, making me look like the bad guy and such.
I would always get upset. They never knew? Or is it because they never got to. Silenced and told to basically “shut up!As it was considered a problem while I was the problem Just for them to have me sent away for months. Forced not to speak. Having my freedom and rights to express myself taken away. Some Days id try, and when I would speak up,
Although it would backfire and I’d be held down with restraints, medicated with 2 shots Not because I wanted it, but because the doctor had said so, placed in a room for hours, while they watched me closely in what they’d refer to as a one-to-one.Forced to not feel. To be told that it’s not okay. It honestly wasn’t much different than being home. The only difference is that I cared for those who only saw me as a mistake.“Those who would act, like to pretend- like it’s one big game of dollhouse”-
It was the year 1994, Iremember hearing the phrase;- “Okay, we’re home.” As they pulled up to the end of Braley Ln. It was around 1 p.m. There sat a one-story house with a really big yard. One so big I had never seen before. When the car engine turned off I heard her say;-“Alright everyone out” in a cheerful excited way unlocking and opening the car doors. Letting us out of the car one stood looking around, taking in the new scenery.In the front yard, to the left of the house, they had this beautiful tree called a weeping willow, and to the right of the house, there was this huge pine tree. The house even had its very own cemetery off in the back, with names such as King Charles III.
There were even smaller tombstones for the little children. From what I was told It use to be an Indian burial ground. Back then I didn’t notice the creepiness of the whole thing.Entering the front door I saw this green rug with these square patterns that had pink little dots where the squares had connected. Standing there, in what would be known as the dining room. To me, it just seemed more like a living, dining, and kitchen all in one. From that room, there was a door leading to a bathroom which also was the laundry room as it wrapped around back to the kitchen, living, and dining room.
Taking a step inside, I can see this door next to a fireplace that wasn’t finished.When you opened that door there was a small hallway. Walking down that hall, you’d find another bathroom, if you continued down this hall, it would lead you to another room where we would watch TV if we were lucky. At some point in that same room, a computer would be placed. Now, growing up then cell phones didn’t exist, we had corded phones that were shared with everyone, they were known as house phones. The non-wireless WiFi didn’t exist.
Anyways, next to that room was another room that would later be mine. Looking back on it now, the house was really small, it was only 2 maybe 3 bedrooms shared with 3 girls and 2 adults.On that very night, we all three slept in one bedroom. In their bed of course. I was young when I would witness something so shocking, that it made me stand frozen. I just stood there still and silent. As I watched my sister run after our new mom with a butcher knife. It kinda made me feel like I was watching the cartoon, Tom and Jerry.Hearing our younger sister cry, fearful, as she would say:-“Stop it. STOP!”- As tears rolled down her face. I looked at her as if it would be okay, placing her under the stairs in what we called a chubby.
She went inside crying as she waited inside for me, scared of what would happen. reassuring her that it would be okay. I even promised her, while I slightly smiled. Deep down I was scared to pieces.When our mom and sis would come back around I did something impulsively. I may add although I didn’t quite think it through then, my actions spoke for me. Before I knew it, I kicked and slid this white clothes basket with my foot in front of my sis tripping her.She fell flying into the air. It looked almost like she did a cartwheel in mid-air, as the knife flew forward out of her hand. The thing was, I watched it all happen in slow motion.
I didn’t know what else to do then.When I got our sister out of the cubby, reaching out my hand, a gesture I assumed would let her know it was okay to come out. Shortly after the people in the ambulance came and took her away. I was heartbroken. Not quite understanding whether she would be coming back. Now the only question I had was;-“Would we ever see her again?"
[Intro]:
*It truely did begin the same exact way
it would have started, as another would politely say it ended before it could even start or as one would say it was only *The Beginning Before The End.*
[Prologue]:
As the wind started to pick up out of
nowhere i could hear its high pitched whistle like howl slowly starting to creep up in a pace that was quite fast. It was almost as if it was trying to mimic the sounds of a tea pot ready to tell you that your hot water is done, yet instesd of a kettle on top of a stove top. I could only enjoy this noise through the sides of my window, every time the wind progressed the overly irritating sounds of the one to many little tree branches or vines that smack up against the windows to the first floor of the house, as I listen to the echoes fade off as it whips its way back into the distance. As the music is playing softly in the background, my vounger sister and i are enjoying each others company as we had decided to play a hand in a card game. One we would often play together, I assumed it was the only game she knew how to play but she would claim it was because she really liked Rummy. Her rules though. While i ran up the stairs to grab a random deck, we would split the task, she would be waiting downstairs clearing off a space that we could set up at.
A moment that would have been
surrounded by laughter that could corrupt an entire room. A joyful evening blessed with silliness and delightful cheers would soon be interrupted by some drama her boyfriend would cause. Especially when he felt like she wasnt providing him with the right amount of attention in that very moment. To me it just seemed like he was doing it just to provoke her, to see how far he could push her just so he can laugh when he got the reaction he was looking for out of her. He knew how to stir up her emotions to get her pissed off enough to blame it all on her. It would set her off, and honestly it did set me off as well, only because that is the shit I didn't like, it truly seemed like he would only come over just to only hurt her, or pull some shit like that.
The Begining Before the end
It was the night of August 16th and the year of 2006, around 5:30pm. Surprised by how oddly warm the evening was this time of year in the town of Plymouth Massachusetts, and how quite it was outside. It did give me a feeling I never felt before almost as if it was like I was looking at a ghost Town. The noises of birds chirping, and car honkings soon faded out and than it just happened, I couldn't control it, I never ever saw it coming, but on that very night and on that very day, my whole life changed, in more ways than one, It was like the end to my beginning.
"Hello you've reached the 911 Emergency dispatch center, -"
"What is your name ma'am?"
"Please state the name of your emergency.."
A few seconds go by, before I begin to hear a slight static noise come from the phone almost as if it was doing it on purpose every time I tried to reply and would stop right when a new question would come through from the 911 operator I was on the phone with.
"Hello this is Emergency dispatch."
"You have reached the 911 operator-"
"Can you State the name of your emergency.."
I tried So hard to talk and I truly thought I did or atleast i figured was, yet that wasn't the case, truth was I only heard myself say that inside my head, and I couldn't speak even if I wanted to and the that creepy static I kept hearing was coming from the cord that was attached to the phone that was hung in the kitchen, I had always thought it was hung in the worst spot possible.
"911 operator-"
"Please state the name of your emergency?"
"Hello you're on the phone with 911 Emergency center."
"What is your name ma'am?."
Hearing the lady talk on the other side of the phone brought me to this place where I started to ease to the idea of calling 911 was pointless and felt that mind and soul embrace through accepting the fact that this was it. I wasnt going to make it and that I was going to die and that I wouldn't be there to protect my sister. With each gasp for air while choking on every deep breath I tried to intake, trying to my sisters boyfriend only to have him pull the cord tighter and tighter with the look of death in his lurking within his eyes. As i watched my younger sister stand there crying and yelling at him almost as if she was screaming at him begging for my life. I tried with all my energy to say to her *RUN* as I felt the tears roll down the sides of my face only to think it would be the last time I would feel anything or any one. By now my body starts going in and out of consciousness while I was struggling for air as I was being strangled by my sisters boyfriend I finally was able to let out a whisper, it was so soft i wasnt even convincing myself.
“Hello, are you still there?”
[Static electricity cracks across the phone]
“Hello please my name is-”
[Sounds of Static intenseify]
“PLEASE if you can hear me Send help, w-we need help!”
[White noise continues]
"HE'S TRYING TO KILL US!"
[Static Crackles]
“N-NO get away from me”
[Static fades eerily]
“DONT YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER-”
*Phone drops*
"Don't yo-"
[Silence]
I could feel my body get cold being met with this strange muffled sound ringing in my ears with an eerie feeling starting to make a home in the pit of my tummy and then clear as day the phone statics right before a grim sounding distorted voice begin to softly repeat the monolog the dispatch operators would use as it got louder and louder
“Hello 911 operater."
" What is the name of your emergency?"
"911 ma'am are you there?"
"Hello this is 911?”
It was like The operator had been recorded and played as a sick joke hearing tbe automated messaged loud and clear, yet the bigger question I had was who was i talking to could they even hear me.
"STOP!" I yelled!
"Please stop it!" I cried!"
"Hello?' Can nobody hear me?"
"PLEASE, if your listening?-"
"Help me!” I softly say as I started to cry.
I shouted I thought I did but I realized it was not out loud, but only in my head
*you have reached the-* Yet compared to many I Almost feel automated myself *if this is a medical emergency Press 1 or stay on the line* Annoyed i was as i thought to myself Is this rhetorical? this is a fucking joke. Do I have a choice? Useless, just fucking useless I felt, like every penny anyone had ever thrown out or dropped.
"Hello you've reached the 911 Emergency center,"
"What is your name ma'am?"
"Please state the name of your
emergency.."
The horrific sounds of static electricity had been Pulsating through my head stuck ringing inside my ears almost like a broken doll with it's batteries draining. A noise I knew I would never get out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. Stuck inside my head like a terroristic torcher technic even walt disney would have used. It felt more like a hypnotic trick, one would say, a therapeutic tacit, or there really is a
point of being brain washed. Would I prefer hypnotized or tricked? Ill just stick to heads and tails I muttered almost in an unsettling way, unsure how to feel at that moment truth was I felt like a fool, I thought quietly to myself, it all just happened in a blink of an eye, a split second
"Hello 911 operator,-"
"Can you state the name of your
emergency?"
The operator had asked once more I
almost had forgotten that she was still on the phone, as I softly whisper
"Ye-yes I'm still here"
I was starting to feel hopeless at this point, not knowing if my sister and I would make it out alive, and there it was again the corrupting sound of static electricity and the voice of operator proceeds again
"Hello you've reached the 911 Emergency dispatch center,-"
"what is your name ma'am?"
"Please state the name of your
emergency.."
Thats it! I dropped the phone down and screamed this time a noise came out of my mouth, finally unknown if I was heard or not. By now It was around 630pm when my sister and i ended up at one of our neighbors house as we sit there on one of his lawn chairs. As my sister embraced the pure look of exhaustion and panic mixed with some high rating fear, upon her face.
While Catching her breath while she stares back over at me and then back to the grassy area all shocked. She knew real well she would be in deep shit for all this because she had instigated or prolonged a irrational situation her boyfriend started, but that was just how she was, she would always feed into his manipulative "ACT"
By now I could hear the police cars racing down the street and ambulance sirens echoing in the distance getting louder by the second as they sped down sandwich street monitoring the distance between them and us. As discussed I looked at my sister and told her to be quiet as she nodded. That's when this cocky little coonass of an officer walked up to us, with this highly judgmental look across her face, almost as if she had a stick up her ass, for her own pleasure that is when she had asked us, in this loud irritating
Italian northern accent;
"what had happened?
"Which one of the two of you did this?"
We both just sat there silently shrugging our shoulders not knowing what she wsnted us to say or what she was even talking about. I hesitated to open my mouth I wanted to ask what was she referring to because we were the ones who called instead we just remained silent. It had felt like even if we opened our mouths to respond to the officer we would both be thrown in the back of the police car and giving some extra charges. A few minutes go by and with this big inhale and overly annoyed suggestive exhale the officer once more proceeded to ask the question again. This time as she removed her sunglasses and I felt her racial profiling stare sucking the soul out of my butt as she stood there in a very, very unsettling way. When she had opened her mouth the next time she appeared to have this tone to her voice, like if she was already accussing me before hand, she had said,
"Don't make me ask again!"
"I'll take you both down,-"
"Now which one of you two did this"
I look over at my sister as she began to cry, I told her that
"I loved her and not to worry it will be okay" and I stood up and said
"I DID-I DID IT"
Scared and frightened after the fact as she cuffed my hands behind my back, I knew this time I was *at the point of no return* It was the year of 2008, on the January 3rd a few days after the year of 2007 had ended my sisters and I play with our new things we had gotten from christmas. Our oldest sister Leaves to venture to her friend's house Bored Out of our minds my younger Sister and I watch parents leave. Later about an hour after around my sister starts to play music as we jammed out to it. We had decided to write a song together called this isn't a dream. It went something like .
This aint a dream anymore
But this is a reality
getting one step closer
ma you can't be holding me
I was a baby
the last couple of years
got my heart broken
And I fell into tears
This ain't a dream anymore
But This is reality
After we had finished writing the new song, a few minutes later a glimpse of silence corrupted. And when my younger sister looked at me she started to talk about wanting to find out mother who had given us up and how she was upset she wasn't old enough to file a paper to search for them. To be entirely honest I wasn't entirely sure if it was even possible that I could.
I said to myself something I heard my mother say as we grew up and it was something like, *Alittle white lie never hurt anyone, * grabbing her hand, I blurt out with confidence: that I would take her I would do it for her as soon as I turned old enough to try as I reasured her that over and over again. One day I take you to met them As a smile grew upon her face, she stuck out her pinky and made me promise, She demanded I stick my pinky out as well to, and I stuck out pinky promised her back.
promise I said.
My moms birthday was coming up, and noone would gave guessed it would be the last celebrated with the entire Family my dad, my mom, my older sister, my younger Sister and I. As days later, Death Came, Four days later to be exact a life would be taken. A Sister, A daughter, a friend, yet I was the last to know what Had happened.
Alone I felt scared I was. I was being admitted to an inpatient psychiatric facility. Lost in head. As to what had happened Later That night i had called home, But there was nobanswered. The next day I felt a tight grip upon my feet, my mom shakes me to wake up
"Wake up i have to tell you something" she said as i slightly open my eyes i mumbled
"What Pushkin died?"
Pushkin was our dog Who was adopted
when i was four. She said no but we had to put him down and then i heard it loud and clear. my dad busted out with the my baby , my baby died and at that moment I knew.She was died, that she had committed suicide not only did I lose my best friend I
felt guilty like it was my fault because I wasn't there this time. I couldn't save her or the thought of she did it because she felt remorseful for the charge I had gotten because of her ex boyfriend, I blamed myself.
© LileveLuna
"The devil was formerly an angel'" many would state. Perhaps they are correct! Perhaps, there can only be two sides, to every coin”
Being born with what the doctor called Split-Brain syndrome certainly didn't make my life any easier. Not to mention the fact that I failed to stem the emotional portion of the brain, which seemed to make me look emotionless. I would say this has made it difficult for me to socialize. Unless it piqued my interest, that is. Perhaps they mentioned that I failed in the first place. A detail that is bold as it seemed so easy to forget. Or Maybe it was just covering up a lot of truth with in knowing it.
I've never thought of myself as a victim not until recently that is. As I have noticed that I am very much a victim. When I was a child, I was put into the corrupt system of the nineties. At the time, it was an extremely broken, just, manipulative system. It had me defined as "The system kid" in school and labeled as the *poster child* for being problematic any other time. Just to be placed with families that were neglecting,
While silenced by those who preached, they knew better. To Tell me that I had no idea what I was talking about. As I was too stupid and not to speak. As it was considered a problem. Even to this day, it’s still an issue. While I stay silent has now become an issue, as I would get spoken to for not speaking. Being told it was rude or disrespectful.
Not having a say or a voice in what happens in my life truly bothered me. I was under the impression that no one had given me that opportunity as if I was not allowed to do so. What I considered to be my own emotions, what I knew as my thoughts, made me feel like I was wrong. I will admit I didn’t make the effort either. After a while, I just stopped trying.
So maybe the word victim isn’t a word I would use lightly on its own I mean. I can say I’ve been victimized in more ways than just one. It left me as an adult fearful. I became scared of everything. Not realizing it was instinctively drilled into my head. It wasn’t healthy! To understand it was traumatic. I was traumatized. I’ve lived a portion of my life unknown. Actually, I didn't care, so I didn't ask any questions.
I ’ve always just tried to embrace what life threw at me. Discreetly accepting what they would say would hurt me. As I am sitting here, all I can tell myself is, "I probably should have asked." I have lived a life, my life! I wouldn't change a thing based on my accomplishments. Learning from my mistakes to become smarter, realizing what many would tell me is either impossible or difficult.
Now that I am in my thirties, and I am also a single mother, I have come to realize that I am left in this state of confusion. Which I will be the first to say is far more terrifying than living a life unknown. To be forced to face reality only to recognize “The Devil in Beautiful People."
As another couple would walk into the room we looked over at them as they stuck their big heads in my face, displaying this sort of I’m a little crazy grin across their faces. One stood silently and watched just observing, as another would have smiled and waved. The last one would put her guard up and say- iuu“Don’t get too excited, you know we can’t trust them.” The lady was light-skinned, had blonde hair, the typical blue eyes.
The male was tall, looks like Charlie Sheen and Jim Carey mixed if you minus the lcomedic talent and the bad publicity of the other. When they got done introducing themselves they would usually follow their introduction with a little white lie. Which sounded a lot like, “and you can trust me.”
“Trust? What is trust?-’ I do remember thinking to myself. “Who were they?-“What did they want?” I’m sure they could see that my facial expression was giving off those questions.
The person they would end up calling mom, she came off as vindictive to one of us, controlling to another, as for the last one, she had viewed her as a challenge. They never learn when to “shut it kid” She often told their mom that “she was wrong.” if needed to be corrected. heir mom didn’t like that. As another one would mock their mom, mimicking the phrase said next with this wine tone, it would annoy her, running away to her husband. to blame it all on his wife.
As for the last one, she stayed quiet, just watching as their mom went off, getting red in the face telling them that,- “They’re just trying to pick a fight.” Her husband comes off as malicious, impulsive as well as a bit narcissistic, hypercritical, and viewed as slightly toxic. He carried the same mentality as a dog with behavioral issues. Avoiding what needs to be fixed. Honestly, they both had no problem lashing out and blaming me for their problems and then playing victim afterward. Never once would they apologize.
I had just got to the point of letting it happen and I accepted it. I had gotten used to it. Even though I knew deep down inside it wasn’t fair. they would always say to “Trust your gut feeling”- but made us feel like we had no idea what we were talking about.They would act as if w e were to have made the whole thing up. It left me crying, and upset. As one would start shouting that "She WASN'T lying-“ you never listen! If you guys get to know me.”
He would interfere by telling me -“Not to speak that way,” kicking me out. I would get even more upset and start to yell at them;- “It’s not fair, You’ve Never seen me for who I am. YOU NEVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND! YOU GUYS NEED TO STOPPED, NOT ME” Devastated as if I had failed him, but the sick realit y is he failed me. if I wasn’t good enough for a moment of his time, I wasn’t going to see him as a man. That’s what his wife was for. I’m not exactly sure what did to him, for him to be like that towards me.
I always thought it was because I didn’t want to go to music college or art school. Her husband would look at me like I should’ve pursued it. Like I could have done more. I began to see myself as useless, as he would say or that I’m “hopeless” or that I was “Stupid.” As he would tell me daily.
Truth was, I lost a lot of respect for him. I stopped looking up to him, stopped wanting to be around him, stopped caring, and became fearful of him. In reality, I knew he was just talking about his guilt of not pursuing his talent.
Now that’s stupid I don’t see him I see a hypocrite.I will never know what I did for them to hate me so much. I felt myself starting to give. upon them. Why would I want to be consistently dragged down, only to be reminded, when I had moved on They would claim they never did, or would ask:- hen did I ever say that? I’ve never said that!” Just to be told some hateful things that, well got oor sometimes mostly they would plain out deny it all, making me look like the bad guy and such.
I would always get upset. They never knew? Or is it because they never got to. Silenced and told to basically “shut up!As it was considered a problem while I was the problem Just for them to have me sent away for months. Forced not to speak. Having my freedom and rights to express myself taken away. Some Days id try, and when I would speak up,
Although it would backfire and I’d be held down with restraints, medicated with 2 shots Not because I wanted it, but because the doctor had said so, placed in a room for hours, while they watched me closely in what they’d refer to as a one-to-one.Forced to not feel. To be told that it’s not okay. It honestly wasn’t much different than being home. The only difference is that I cared for those who only saw me as a mistake.“Those who would act, like to pretend- like it’s one big game of dollhouse”-
It was the year 1994, Iremember hearing the phrase;- “Okay, we’re home.” As they pulled up to the end of Braley Ln. It was around 1 p.m. There sat a one-story house with a really big yard. One so big I had never seen before. When the car engine turned off I heard her say;-“Alright everyone out” in a cheerful excited way unlocking and opening the car doors. Letting us out of the car one stood looking around, taking in the new scenery.In the front yard, to the left of the house, they had this beautiful tree called a weeping willow, and to the right of the house, there was this huge pine tree. The house even had its very own cemetery off in the back, with names such as King Charles III.
There were even smaller tombstones for the little children. From what I was told It use to be an Indian burial ground. Back then I didn’t notice the creepiness of the whole thing.Entering the front door I saw this green rug with these square patterns that had pink little dots where the squares had connected. Standing there, in what would be known as the dining room. To me, it just seemed more like a living, dining, and kitchen all in one. From that room, there was a door leading to a bathroom which also was the laundry room as it wrapped around back to the kitchen, living, and dining room.
Taking a step inside, I can see this door next to a fireplace that wasn’t finished.When you opened that door there was a small hallway. Walking down that hall, you’d find another bathroom, if you continued down this hall, it would lead you to another room where we would watch TV if we were lucky. At some point in that same room, a computer would be placed. Now, growing up then cell phones didn’t exist, we had corded phones that were shared with everyone, they were known as house phones. The non-wireless WiFi didn’t exist.
Anyways, next to that room was another room that would later be mine. Looking back on it now, the house was really small, it was only 2 maybe 3 bedrooms shared with 3 girls and 2 adults.On that very night, we all three slept in one bedroom. In their bed of course. I was young when I would witness something so shocking, that it made me stand frozen. I just stood there still and silent. As I watched my sister run after our new mom with a butcher knife. It kinda made me feel like I was watching the cartoon, Tom and Jerry.Hearing our younger sister cry, fearful, as she would say:-“Stop it. STOP!”- As tears rolled down her face. I looked at her as if it would be okay, placing her under the stairs in what we called a chubby.
She went inside crying as she waited inside for me, scared of what would happen. reassuring her that it would be okay. I even promised her, while I slightly smiled. Deep down I was scared to pieces.When our mom and sis would come back around I did something impulsively. I may add although I didn’t quite think it through then, my actions spoke for me. Before I knew it, I kicked and slid this white clothes basket with my foot in front of my sis tripping her.She fell flying into the air. It looked almost like she did a cartwheel in mid-air, as the knife flew forward out of her hand. The thing was, I watched it all happen in slow motion.
I didn’t know what else to do then.When I got our sister out of the cubby, reaching out my hand, a gesture I assumed would let her know it was okay to come out. Shortly after the people in the ambulance came and took her away. I was heartbroken. Not quite understanding whether she would be coming back. Now the only question I had was;-“Would we ever see her again?"
[Intro]:
*It truely did begin the same exact way
it would have started, as another would politely say it ended before it could even start or as one would say it was only *The Beginning Before The End.*
[Prologue]:
As the wind started to pick up out of
nowhere i could hear its high pitched whistle like howl slowly starting to creep up in a pace that was quite fast. It was almost as if it was trying to mimic the sounds of a tea pot ready to tell you that your hot water is done, yet instesd of a kettle on top of a stove top. I could only enjoy this noise through the sides of my window, every time the wind progressed the overly irritating sounds of the one to many little tree branches or vines that smack up against the windows to the first floor of the house, as I listen to the echoes fade off as it whips its way back into the distance. As the music is playing softly in the background, my vounger sister and i are enjoying each others company as we had decided to play a hand in a card game. One we would often play together, I assumed it was the only game she knew how to play but she would claim it was because she really liked Rummy. Her rules though. While i ran up the stairs to grab a random deck, we would split the task, she would be waiting downstairs clearing off a space that we could set up at.
A moment that would have been
surrounded by laughter that could corrupt an entire room. A joyful evening blessed with silliness and delightful cheers would soon be interrupted by some drama her boyfriend would cause. Especially when he felt like she wasnt providing him with the right amount of attention in that very moment. To me it just seemed like he was doing it just to provoke her, to see how far he could push her just so he can laugh when he got the reaction he was looking for out of her. He knew how to stir up her emotions to get her pissed off enough to blame it all on her. It would set her off, and honestly it did set me off as well, only because that is the shit I didn't like, it truly seemed like he would only come over just to only hurt her, or pull some shit like that.
The Begining Before the end
It was the night of August 16th and the year of 2006, around 5:30pm. Surprised by how oddly warm the evening was this time of year in the town of Plymouth Massachusetts, and how quite it was outside. It did give me a feeling I never felt before almost as if it was like I was looking at a ghost Town. The noises of birds chirping, and car honkings soon faded out and than it just happened, I couldn't control it, I never ever saw it coming, but on that very night and on that very day, my whole life changed, in more ways than one, It was like the end to my beginning.
"Hello you've reached the 911 Emergency dispatch center, -"
"What is your name ma'am?"
"Please state the name of your emergency.."
A few seconds go by, before I begin to hear a slight static noise come from the phone almost as if it was doing it on purpose every time I tried to reply and would stop right when a new question would come through from the 911 operator I was on the phone with.
"Hello this is Emergency dispatch."
"You have reached the 911 operator-"
"Can you State the name of your emergency.."
I tried So hard to talk and I truly thought I did or atleast i figured was, yet that wasn't the case, truth was I only heard myself say that inside my head, and I couldn't speak even if I wanted to and the that creepy static I kept hearing was coming from the cord that was attached to the phone that was hung in the kitchen, I had always thought it was hung in the worst spot possible.
"911 operator-"
"Please state the name of your emergency?"
"Hello you're on the phone with 911 Emergency center."
"What is your name ma'am?."
Hearing the lady talk on the other side of the phone brought me to this place where I started to ease to the idea of calling 911 was pointless and felt that mind and soul embrace through accepting the fact that this was it. I wasnt going to make it and that I was going to die and that I wouldn't be there to protect my sister. With each gasp for air while choking on every deep breath I tried to intake, trying to my sisters boyfriend only to have him pull the cord tighter and tighter with the look of death in his lurking within his eyes. As i watched my younger sister stand there crying and yelling at him almost as if she was screaming at him begging for my life. I tried with all my energy to say to her *RUN* as I felt the tears roll down the sides of my face only to think it would be the last time I would feel anything or any one. By now my body starts going in and out of consciousness while I was struggling for air as I was being strangled by my sisters boyfriend I finally was able to let out a whisper, it was so soft i wasnt even convincing myself.
“Hello, are you still there?”
[Static electricity cracks across the phone]
“Hello please my name is-”
[Sounds of Static intenseify]
“PLEASE if you can hear me Send help, w-we need help!”
[White noise continues]
"HE'S TRYING TO KILL US!"
[Static Crackles]
“N-NO get away from me”
[Static fades eerily]
“DONT YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER-”
*Phone drops*
"Don't yo-"
[Silence]
I could feel my body get cold being met with this strange muffled sound ringing in my ears with an eerie feeling starting to make a home in the pit of my tummy and then clear as day the phone statics right before a grim sounding distorted voice begin to softly repeat the monolog the dispatch operators would use as it got louder and louder
“Hello 911 operater."
" What is the name of your emergency?"
"911 ma'am are you there?"
"Hello this is 911?”
It was like The operator had been recorded and played as a sick joke hearing tbe automated messaged loud and clear, yet the bigger question I had was who was i talking to could they even hear me.
"STOP!" I yelled!
"Please stop it!" I cried!"
"Hello?' Can nobody hear me?"
"PLEASE, if your listening?-"
"Help me!” I softly say as I started to cry.
I shouted I thought I did but I realized it was not out loud, but only in my head
*you have reached the-* Yet compared to many I Almost feel automated myself *if this is a medical emergency Press 1 or stay on the line* Annoyed i was as i thought to myself Is this rhetorical? this is a fucking joke. Do I have a choice? Useless, just fucking useless I felt, like every penny anyone had ever thrown out or dropped.
"Hello you've reached the 911 Emergency center,"
"What is your name ma'am?"
"Please state the name of your
emergency.."
The horrific sounds of static electricity had been Pulsating through my head stuck ringing inside my ears almost like a broken doll with it's batteries draining. A noise I knew I would never get out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. Stuck inside my head like a terroristic torcher technic even walt disney would have used. It felt more like a hypnotic trick, one would say, a therapeutic tacit, or there really is a
point of being brain washed. Would I prefer hypnotized or tricked? Ill just stick to heads and tails I muttered almost in an unsettling way, unsure how to feel at that moment truth was I felt like a fool, I thought quietly to myself, it all just happened in a blink of an eye, a split second
"Hello 911 operator,-"
"Can you state the name of your
emergency?"
The operator had asked once more I
almost had forgotten that she was still on the phone, as I softly whisper
"Ye-yes I'm still here"
I was starting to feel hopeless at this point, not knowing if my sister and I would make it out alive, and there it was again the corrupting sound of static electricity and the voice of operator proceeds again
"Hello you've reached the 911 Emergency dispatch center,-"
"what is your name ma'am?"
"Please state the name of your
emergency.."
Thats it! I dropped the phone down and screamed this time a noise came out of my mouth, finally unknown if I was heard or not. By now It was around 630pm when my sister and i ended up at one of our neighbors house as we sit there on one of his lawn chairs. As my sister embraced the pure look of exhaustion and panic mixed with some high rating fear, upon her face.
While Catching her breath while she stares back over at me and then back to the grassy area all shocked. She knew real well she would be in deep shit for all this because she had instigated or prolonged a irrational situation her boyfriend started, but that was just how she was, she would always feed into his manipulative "ACT"
By now I could hear the police cars racing down the street and ambulance sirens echoing in the distance getting louder by the second as they sped down sandwich street monitoring the distance between them and us. As discussed I looked at my sister and told her to be quiet as she nodded. That's when this cocky little coonass of an officer walked up to us, with this highly judgmental look across her face, almost as if she had a stick up her ass, for her own pleasure that is when she had asked us, in this loud irritating
Italian northern accent;
"what had happened?
"Which one of the two of you did this?"
We both just sat there silently shrugging our shoulders not knowing what she wsnted us to say or what she was even talking about. I hesitated to open my mouth I wanted to ask what was she referring to because we were the ones who called instead we just remained silent. It had felt like even if we opened our mouths to respond to the officer we would both be thrown in the back of the police car and giving some extra charges. A few minutes go by and with this big inhale and overly annoyed suggestive exhale the officer once more proceeded to ask the question again. This time as she removed her sunglasses and I felt her racial profiling stare sucking the soul out of my butt as she stood there in a very, very unsettling way. When she had opened her mouth the next time she appeared to have this tone to her voice, like if she was already accussing me before hand, she had said,
"Don't make me ask again!"
"I'll take you both down,-"
"Now which one of you two did this"
I look over at my sister as she began to cry, I told her that
"I loved her and not to worry it will be okay" and I stood up and said
"I DID-I DID IT"
Scared and frightened after the fact as she cuffed my hands behind my back, I knew this time I was *at the point of no return* It was the year of 2008, on the January 3rd a few days after the year of 2007 had ended my sisters and I play with our new things we had gotten from christmas. Our oldest sister Leaves to venture to her friend's house Bored Out of our minds my younger Sister and I watch parents leave. Later about an hour after around my sister starts to play music as we jammed out to it. We had decided to write a song together called this isn't a dream. It went something like .
This aint a dream anymore
But this is a reality
getting one step closer
ma you can't be holding me
I was a baby
the last couple of years
got my heart broken
And I fell into tears
This ain't a dream anymore
But This is reality
After we had finished writing the new song, a few minutes later a glimpse of silence corrupted. And when my younger sister looked at me she started to talk about wanting to find out mother who had given us up and how she was upset she wasn't old enough to file a paper to search for them. To be entirely honest I wasn't entirely sure if it was even possible that I could.
I said to myself something I heard my mother say as we grew up and it was something like, *Alittle white lie never hurt anyone, * grabbing her hand, I blurt out with confidence: that I would take her I would do it for her as soon as I turned old enough to try as I reasured her that over and over again. One day I take you to met them As a smile grew upon her face, she stuck out her pinky and made me promise, She demanded I stick my pinky out as well to, and I stuck out pinky promised her back.
promise I said.
My moms birthday was coming up, and noone would gave guessed it would be the last celebrated with the entire Family my dad, my mom, my older sister, my younger Sister and I. As days later, Death Came, Four days later to be exact a life would be taken. A Sister, A daughter, a friend, yet I was the last to know what Had happened.
Alone I felt scared I was. I was being admitted to an inpatient psychiatric facility. Lost in head. As to what had happened Later That night i had called home, But there was nobanswered. The next day I felt a tight grip upon my feet, my mom shakes me to wake up
"Wake up i have to tell you something" she said as i slightly open my eyes i mumbled
"What Pushkin died?"
Pushkin was our dog Who was adopted
when i was four. She said no but we had to put him down and then i heard it loud and clear. my dad busted out with the my baby , my baby died and at that moment I knew.She was died, that she had committed suicide not only did I lose my best friend I
felt guilty like it was my fault because I wasn't there this time. I couldn't save her or the thought of she did it because she felt remorseful for the charge I had gotten because of her ex boyfriend, I blamed myself.
© LileveLuna
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