By my first birthday I found a semi-permanent home. unfortunately that home was with a single 43 year old firefighter who was never home. You cant really leave an infant home alone, so he usually left me with our neighbors, the Kapules. The family consisted of an alcoholic mother, a 12 year old boy, and a 10 year old boy. The mother was usually passed out an hour into babysitting, so her sons, Jonathan and Nate took over. These were not kind children. They enjoyed throwing rocks into the windows of other peoples homes, tying cats to the backs of cars, and knocking over fruit stands at the outdoor market. So, when I would cry they would discipline me. they would light candles, and let the hot wax drip onto my belly. I have burn scars from my belly button to my chest, from weeks of wax. When my idiot foster dad took me to the doctor, they called the police, and it all traced back to the Kapules. Mrs. Kapule lost custody of her children, and they went to live with her husband who worked in Colorado. He divorced her soon after. The very next month, she hung herself. She was extremely drunk, and had apparently called her ex husband in hysterics.
"Sarah, how many times do I have to keep telling you? Stop. Calling. I don't want you talking to the kids."
"I killed that little girl, didn't I?" she mumbled into the phone
"what? No, Sarah, she's going to be fine. You didn't kill her, you were irresponsible and drunk"
"I almost killed a baby. Life must pay for death. I love you and the boys, I'll see you all soon"
and she hung up.
YOU ARE READING
21 years later
General Fictionhave you ever met someone so...unhappy? That they can't function? Someone who has such a bad past-they can't enjoy the present because they're drowning in bad luck? There's a word for people like that. The word is "experiencers". They were put on th...
