Handsome (An Original Book)

PROLOGUE: Mama

(Please, for the love of God, make sure you read the trigger warnings in the description. This book may be too much for some people.)

Mama was always a good liar. Her smile whenever she brought me out in public was made of plastic, the way she highly praised me to her friends hissed with a secret venom, the way she hugged me and gave me affection was of nothing but deceit.

In reality, she was very cruel to me. Instead of holding me tight like a mother would, she'd throw me and tell me of how much little worth I was. She'd punch, kick, pull. Anything to get a good scream of pain out of me.

It was a shame. Her beautiful pearly eyes of blue were so beautiful; you'd expect her to be such a good mother, but the blue in her eyes was of nothing but a lie to keep up her image. She said she loved me to her friends. Yet in private, she'd remind me of how much she despised me.

The constant kisses and hugs in public did not make the bruises and pain go away; and that wouldn't ever change. They believed her so; because it was she who was a "kind, loving mother". Because it was she who could "do nothing wrong". They believed her all the time, so why didn't they believe me when I asked for help?

The only time they realized that she wasn't a good parent was when she had decided to torture me with her physical beatings once more. She was doing it with such intensity, it was hard to bare. My nose was bleeding, my fingers and knees were covered with blood, my eyes were filled with salty tears of only what could be considered Niagara falls.

I realized that she wasn't stopping like she normally was. No, she wasn't beating me. She was going to murder me. Unable to handle the situation calmly, I flew up; my limbs were shaky and I could barely see. I ran, ran, ran as fast as I could out of there.

I remember the constant tripping; I would run into something, and crash, and then get back up again. It was such an unnerving chase. She almost caught me when i rushed towards a table by accident. My limbs felt so fragile and weak, I was ready to give into my death any moment now. But I did not.

I hurriedly opened the door, and slowly walked out. What was strange was that the sun seemed so much brighter on that day. The hot summer air tingled my skin, my vision was blurry, I could smell the scents of nature around me. And I could hear the sound of impending doom right behind me.

Oh, how she screamed after me. Trying to tone her voice with heavenly softness, politely asking me to come back to her. Calling me sweet names, just so she could maintain her perfect little image. Yet I only ran further and further. It was about the time I finally came across someone her voice of deceit began to break.

A middle aged man; between the ages of 43-42 I would say, stared down at me. He saw my fragile form, my weak beaten up body. And he froze in shock. He softly spoke to me, asking me what happened and where my mother was. The look of surprise when I told him it was my mother who harmed me was almost funny.

He looked my mother, who stood behind me in her eyes and immediately stood in front of me. Standing his guard, not letting me out of his protection. My mother was furious; for the first time,  someone was looking her in her beady little eyes and telling her 'no'..

He kept standing with me there, refusing to let my mother touch me or speak to me. Her facade broke and she began to scream, trying to accuse him of assaulting her so I would be given back. She harshly yelled out that the man had beaten me and was taking me away; I don't think she realized no one was around.

It was only about 3 hours later my terror was over. At 5:00 PM, 1955-- she was taken into prison and fortunately for me, I never had to see her again. It was nerve racking, they almost believed her side and arrested the man. It was only when I spoke that they took his side, and arrested her.

They looked me in the eyes, and eventually; I was placed inside an orphanage. A few days later, I was adopted by my new mama. She had such beautiful green eyes of emerald stones, her  brown long curly hair was a grace to look at, her red dress and jewelry.

I was lucky for her to be my next mama, she took good care of me. She fed me well, she made sure I had fun, she held me when I needed to be held and loved me when I wanted to be loved. It was all I ever asked my first mama for; so why didn't she give it to me?

Oh well, I suppose those questions cannot be answered now. My new mama always told me I was a handsome boy; that I was a smart and good boy. The thought of my first one does not matter as long as I'm loved.

...

Since I suppose your going to be here for a while, why not make yourself comfortable before reading the next chapter? I may as well introduce myself before we begin.

My name is Thomas Smith, at the time the story begins, I am nineteen years old. But my screen name has always been and will always be Johnny Jones; after all, people would rather always call me that. I was a star in Hollywood's finest movies of the 60s, the crowd adored me, especially women!

I introduced a new style, I was the reason toxic masculinity started to fade away. Yet, they left me to rot.

Now that you know me, let's get to where everything began. Where it all started, where it shouldn't have started. Where it should have stopped.