Mercy cries

chapter one

I don't know when it started. I suppose I've been this way my whole life. I developed a extremely early memory. You know how they say humans don't develope a memory until they are three years old? Well, in my case that was very, very false.

I remember when I was less than a year old. Shocking to most, but truthful nonetheless. My mom was in her early twenties, I'm not sure how old my father was. My father was pronounced legally insane after my mother convinced him to seek out professional help. The issue is, he hated the medicine; not that I can blame him, the pills and stress is horrible. My mom met my father, or rather, Adam, when she was working at a convenience store. He took a liking to her and proceeded to stalk her in a way, showing up daily and talking with her and thus eventually started a relationship. He treated her like a queen, bubble baths with rose petals, home cooked meals, massages, and more. He love bombed her. My mother had a rough and abusive childhood, desperate for the affection of a man and so she fell for him hard.

My mom married Adam basically in secret, it was then that the abuse started. She was trapped. He could do anything he wanted, kill her even if he pleased, he tried to numerous times and the police did nothing, because he was legally insane. He would only get a few months in a mental institution and get out. My mom had me, and my father was to say the least a shitty father. He is why I developed an early memory. I did not cry a lot at a baby, still don't cry, in fact for fifteen years I was incapable of crying, I was incapable of emotion at all. My first memory was of my mother screaming and crying in the hallway as my father beat her to a bloody pulp. My second memory, my mom had left for work, and I was left alone with him. He picked me up and removed any and all articles of clothes from me, including my diaper. He proceeded to lock me in an empty room that had nothing but a small box tv in the middle of the floor. There was no light, no window, just that stupid box television. On the screen was none other than the adult swim show, "robot chicken". I sat there, barely able to crawl, witnessing cartoon characters that were supposed to be cute and sweet kill, torture, mutilate and even worse things to one another for hours.

Time had passed and I had a empty stomach, was cold, dirty and confused, I cried, I cried and cried till finally I heard the door unlock. But things got worse, my father stepped in with a VHS tape and locked the door behind himself, setting me beside him and played the tape. What was on that tape and transpired afterwards is too graphic to even dare mention here. My mother came home and these events happened several times after that day, my mother only finding out after the neighbor called CPS due to hearing me cry so loudly. Time passed, and the abuse got worse until finally we ran. Sadly, even the safehouse couldn't protect us. He broke into the safehouse trying to kidnap us, and we went from safehouse to safehouse and even homeless shelters. The police would not help us. The courts took away my older brother, claiming my mother was at fault because he witnessed the abuse. My father got off free with supervised visitation with me, however he did not follow court order. He would take me on his own or leave me with his equally insane mother who locked me and my cousin outside for hours as we screamed and pounded on the door because my hand was being crushed by a heavy weight and she laughed at us, mocking my plea for help.

My father had an obsession with making my mother's life a living hell, using me as a weapon. My mother had sadly made the choice to get with another man who was worse than my father. My dad has Scitzophrenia, and bipolar disorder along with other mental issues. He would call CPS every day for months, making up stories about my mother and me. He went as far as claiming I smelt of cat piss. The social worker was so sick of his shit she picked me up, took me out of his house and sniffed me, realizing it wasn't me, it was my father's entire house that smelt horrible. CPS would come to my house every single day and talk to me, ask me questions about my mother and father, and to which I would answer truthfully, but I was numb, I had even had to go talk to them mid bath whilst I was ill. Then came the day I can't forget no matter how hard I try, the reason for my dear of doctors and ambulances and being put under. I was four years old and my mother had tried to convince my father to let me skip visitation due to me having the flu and vomiting for three days. He refused and promised to give me medication and so I had went to stay the night for the first and last time. He did not give me any medication. I woke up out of a dead sleep with a high fever and began throwing up, crawling to the bathroom as I was forced to sleep on a wooden floor with only my bag to lay on. My father proceeded to smash my head against the toilet and passed out. I woke up in an ambulance confused, my father glaring at me like I was a monster, but really, he was the monster. They injected me with some kind of sedative against my will or knowledge and when I woke up again, it shocked the doctors around me for my small body should not have woken up so quickly with the amount they gave me, and they were to be more upset as they were doing something illegal. There I was, a four year old surrounded by doctors with a foreign object I later found out to be a speculum in me. My father made false claims stating my mother drugged me and assaulted me. I thrashed and screamed and in retaliation I got hurt by the tools the doctors held, and passed out again. Only remembering the next day when I limped passed my mother and into my house, her being extremely confused.