Selfless

Prologue

  In the beginning life was only as people told me. Memories that were formed from false realities of liars. People that wanted the truth of my earlier hidden. So Instead I was fed lies on top of lies. My memories slowly mixing with the things I was told. Until eventually all of it blurred together. All mixing and becoming one, to this day I honestly don't know which memories are real or not. In a way it doesn't really matter because the things that are too big to hide always come to the surface. Including people, like my dad. Now that truth was always going to come out. No matter how many lies they told and believe me there were plenty in a wide variety of different stories.

For the short time I lived with my mom. She used to tell me he was at work, that he would come home every night and kiss me on the forehead before leaving. I never questioned her, no six years old would but occasionally I would stay up and wait. Laying in bed with a blanket over my head and a flashlight. Hoping to meet this man that was supposedly my father. Wanting to know when people say "you look just like your father", if it was true. Factual. I would stay up and every time I would be disappointed that the mystery man never came. That my father never came and left a kiss on my forehead like my mother had claimed. After a couple of failed attempts at trying to meet this man I've been told so much about, I gave up. Instead of trying to stay up all night, I would go to sleep. That was the first time I believed my mother to be a liar. In other words, the first time I saw the reality of things.

After giving up on my false hope I actually had to sleep, meaning for me the real terror began. Monsters and demons filled my dreams, causing me to wake up drenched in sweat and screaming. Waking up in the pure darkness of my childhood bedroom that I shared with my sister. She refused to have the lights on at that time. Making the demons and monsters that haunted me seem more real. I tried to call myself down and steady my breathing but it was no use. Instead I ran to mom's room. Hopping to find comfort and security, but instead my monsters and demons came to life as she got enraged. Screaming at me for being awake. Her eye's read and hair in knots. Her room was consumed with smoke and the floor covered in bottles of pills. She had already been awake, I didn't quite understand what I did wrong, but she scared me enough to never seek comfort from her again. Considering she was just like the demons and monsters in my dreams that night, accept it was real. In dreams you could wake up, but with her there was no running, no escaping, no waking up.

Night after Night I would wake up screaming. Occasionally my mother would come in to comfort me, but most of the time I was on my own to self sooth. To steady my breathing and pull myself out of it. Learning not to seek comfort, at least not from her when it came to my monsters and demons.

Months had passed, my mom getting worse and worse. I would sometimes wonder if maybe she had demons of her own that haunted her. That maybe that was why she was mad all the time. I guess I came up with anything to try and prove my mothers innocence in my eyes. I use to even blame myself, take the blame and burden off of her. I think I even still do.

One night, her eye's red and hair crazy once again. She pulled my sister and I onto her bed. Wanting to talk about something, I couldn't help but be petrified from the last time I talked to her when she looked like this all those months ago. My sister's face void of emotion, as usual. All Rhiannon ever does is get mad, especially at me. She's not very good at emotions. My mom firmly grabbed my hand along with my sisters. Clearing her throat and getting ready to speak. Her brown eye's looked glossy, as if she was gonna cry. Along with the red outlining it. Her blonde hair in a very messy ponytail a top her head.

"What's wrong mommy?" I asked. I truly wanted to know but also didn't want to be screamed at.

She gripped my hand really hard. " Mommy's fine, but we have something we need to talk about" she answered. Her eye's never leave mine. Something in me always knew that this conversation was mainly for me, even at six years old. "You know how I told both of you Daddy was at work" she mumbled, looking back and forth between me and my sister. "I lied" she whispered. Only barely enough for us to hear. As if she was trying to hide it from someone else. "Daddy doesn't come home at night, in fact he doesn't live here. He never has'' she continued.