Dreamland Dimensions

Chapter Twenty: Broken Wings

When I was 8 years old I believed I could fly, I'd run through the woods with my arms spread and my eyes on the sky. Flapping my arms trying to reach for the sky, I'd invision flying up to heaven and be with my grandmother again. Maybe the home I grew up in would be up there with her and I could move in so we could start over. She'd chase away the nightmares and cast out the demons. I always thought my grandmother could somehow magically heal me, her words were always sweet and kind. For a while, my grandmother made me believe that all people were good like her but then I met my mother and heard stories of my father.

I started looking at myself differently, something must've been wrong with me but my grandmother never seen it.

I can vividly remember the day my grandmother introduced me to my mother. I was 5 years old then, my memory of that day should be foggy with the rest of those toddler days but they werent. They were fresh in my mind like the night my mother left me in her bedroom and ran away from home, I never forgot. "Quinton, you might not remember her but this is your mommy". I remembered her of course, picking me up and dropping me on the bed like a ragdoll. It felt like an eternity I've been waiting for my mother to come back for me and at that moment it was surreal, a dream come true. She cringed away from my touch when I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her, "I've missed you". My mother shoved me back, dusting her clothes off as if I had touched her with dirty hands.

"Don't touch me boy". Her words cut into my small fragile heart, a familiar feeling that reminded me of the night she left me.

"You'll have to be with your mommy from now on...Granny sick and she can't take her of you on her own anymore so mommy will help". I never imagined that my grandmother would die, that was my first bitter taste of reality and I hated it. The magic and wonder of the world slowly faded from my eyes. The only love I've ever known had left my life, I was left with the hatred of my mother and the shame of my father. Running through the woods was different then, I'd spread my arms and just before I think of falling, I would stop. I stared at the sky, wishing that I had my wings back so I could fly.

My world was filled with sadness, pain and confusion. I didn't know who I was or where I came from, I just knew I was a burden to my mother and she never failed to show me.

She constantly reminded me of the terrible thing my father did to her. I never knew what to call him; Was his my father or grandfather? It was a sick joke, my mother was my mother but she could biologically pass for my sister. My past drove me to hate myself, I felt as if I deserved to suffer for my father's actions and I carried on that way. Never realizing that it wasn't my fault and then I'd think about my grandmother fussing at me about taking on other's problems. I use to be a good boy, putting others before myself until I realized that the world didn't care about those things. I was still beaten, neglected and bullied, even though I've always been a good boy. I didn't want to be a good boy so I tried to be bad but it didn't matter who I wanted to be or pretended to be.

I would always be my father's son.