Ruined: A Twisted lost Boys fanfiction

Chapter 1;

Engulfed in your thoughts, it was a constant presence: every day, every morning, every night. Pain was all you could contemplate, accompanied by the weight of regret. The remorse you experienced for those you harmed was manipulative. abused killed accused.
All the things you said you did all those impulsive thoughts you acted on those desires those twisted sadistic words actions thoughts.
Why did you smile when you hurt someone or something you were meant to love cherish care for? But all you did was use abuse manipulate and lie. Why, why? That is something you never considered before. Was there a reason for my cruel, malicious, manipulative behavior, or did I just do it because I wanted to? Was there a reason for it to cause us pain, to steal our peace and grief, those who cared for you, loved you, trusted you, thought you were different and would not hurt them, but you did. abused then locked them away.

You pulled at people's heartstrings, fully aware of your actions, yet you continued to repeat them time after time, never pausing to consider the consequences before you acted.

As time passes and you grow older, there comes a moment when something within you breaks, and you're engulfed by an intense wave of regret, remorse, hurt, and sorrow. Not for yourself, but for those you've hurt, used, and manipulated to serve your own ends, never once considering the pain you've caused. You realize you only thought of yourself.

Only now do you truly understand what you have done; there is no turning back, no apologies, no more chances. You've portrayed yourself as selfish, uncaring, cold, mean, malicious, vindictive—all the negative traits.

Yet, it may be hard to believe, but there was a time when you were the sweetest girl, one who smiled, laughed, and couldn't fathom harming anyone, much less acting on such thoughts. You dismissed them for so long because there was no cause to pay them any mind—you had your family, a life, a cat, your baby.

But then, one day, everything changed; your life was altered irrevocably. What was once a vibrant, lively home became a silent, cold house filled with the old memories of the person who made it a home. When she passed away, everything seemed to perish with her. From that day on, things deteriorated further. You thought that was the end, but you were mistaken, profoundly so. Smiles and laughter ceased; the atmosphere turned frigid and foreign, and gradually, you all transformed.

Your father had lost the love of his life: his wife, his lover, the mother of his children, his other half. He could not handle the pain of it so once a few weeks of doing a line of coke for the fun of it. What began as an occasional habit gradually became a daily routine, and then he changed; the drugs consumed him, transforming him from a father to merely a shell of his former self. His behaviour shifted to drinking, getting high, engaging in illegal activities, stealing, and getting arrested. He would disappear for days, and upon returning home, there were no greetings or inquiries about our well-being. His visits were solely for sleep, to repair his bike, or when he had nowhere else to turn—typically when he was out of drugs or money. During these times, he would rest, eat, and completely disregard his grieving children, only speaking to them when he needed something, usually money, resorting to begging and manipulating our emotions with guilt. I suppose I adopted that from him, as I did it too, and even more so.