Lost World

A little bit of history

That man became my Father.

I was too young to remember my real father, he died when my sister and I were a year old. My sister and I were twins. We grew up not knowing that the man who was masquerading as our father murdered out real one and had kidnapped our mother, in a way.

I grew up like him. I grew up thinking that crime was right, and that was the only way that I would be able to get anything done in my life. I wanted to be like "dad!" as any normal kid would say. Yeah, well my dad was a deadbeat, and I was too dumb to recognize a simple fact.

It's no wonder people always stopped and stared at us when he was around. It's no wonder people kept their family members at a distance when he was around. It's no wonder husbands stood in front of their wives and children when he was around. It's no wonder Pollyanna and I had no friends. It's no wonder my mother was hidden from the world.

It's no wonder why any of the hell we went through happened!

All we wanted to be was a normal family. We wanted to have normal family outing's, have normal family dinners with normal family conversations. We didn't want to hear about dad's latest challenger or dad's favorite gun or Dad's anything. We wanted to eat in restaurants without having the waiters cower or flinch whenever Vincent made a move at the table. Sure, the free meals were a plus, but there was always a tingling feeling of fear that people had on them when we were around.

My mother. My poor mother. She was so embarrassed. It was the experienced with my mom that traumatized me the most, I believe. The poor woman, and the things he did to her. He widowed her, and made her out to be a slut. He made her out to be a woman no one thought my mother was, but everyone didn't know what to believe either. Vincent made her wear the most revealing dresses. He made her wear shoes that spiked her feet down to just blisters and blood. He made her cut her hair and wear makeup. He wanted other men to look at her the same way he did. As an object. He wanted other men to challenge him in the most discrete way, by looking at his property. His wife. His family.

All things he could never obtain himself.

He had to take them from someone who worked to get them, only to put a false label on.

He wanted a mask. A distraction from what he truly was.

It's no wonder I went down the same path as Vincent did. I knew no other way, but at the same time I knew something was wrong with what I was doing. One would only hope, right?

I ignored my instinct, and I have regret that decision more that anything.

The impact it made on my town. My family. My friends. Myself. Was awful.

But what really happened?