Nightmares Never Go Away

Chapter One: Childhood Memories

I see his dark eyes staring back at me from the page in my sketchbook. Haunting and comforting at the same time but mostly terrifying me the older I get.

I prefer not to look too deeply into a pool of darkened orbs that may pull me in and cause me to drown. Forever lost in a sea I can never escape of the horror I'm too scared to become lost in but when I look exactly like him is that even possible?

I cross lines over and over the entire page of what I lost myself in for about an hour before school. Wasted on a page I plan on tearing out and throwing away. I don't know what drawn me to draw the picture in the first place. Last night's dreams maybe or purely memories from when I was little stuck in the back of my head.

Years have gone by and I can still not forget him and I'm not sure if I want to. I did share good memories with him I hang onto but then there are bad memories I doubt I can ever forget. Images of places and people I want to forget.

Staring back at me now, with the same dark eyes as me, is someone I haven't spoke to or rarely about in years. I try not to think about him for the most part because doing so would open up a box of questions and answers I'm scared to ask and find out.

He's my other dad but he's also not sane. He committed unthinkable crimes before I was born. He killed people and it's disturubing alone to believe what everyone is saying and to find out more would be far worse.

I close the sketchbook as I look out the window. Deciding it's best I throw the picture away somewhere else than at home. I don't want my dad or Vivian to find it in the trash and piece together the drawing to see what I drew.

Dad doesn't like discussing the touchy subject and everything I heard and learned through the years I don't blame him. I can see his reasoning why. He's always wanted to protect Vivian and I from a dark truth I hadn't known until the life we lived out of town hardly seeing anyone ended.

I belived at five years old everyone was growing up the same. Not going out much in public. Being scared and fearful of my father on occasion. Pretending to sleep during heated agurements where belongings were thrown. Seeing my dad appear shaken up after displaying a fresh bruise. I thought everything was normal including the amount of alcohol ingested to lead into a fit of rage or a calmness in the house you can hear a pen drop. I didn't know any different. I was used to that life before leaving and moving in with dad's parents, my grandparents, he was never close with.

The first several months were rocky at first. I hated being somewhere I didn't know. I hated the fact my dad wasn't happy. I disliked everything more than I had in my five years of life. Everything I knew was turned upside down then I found out the truth about Jared.

I wasn't wanted to begin with. I wasn't planned. I happened the night my dad tried to escape and I'm also the reason he stayed. He could have continued to fight to leave. He should have but he was carrying me. He wanted more than anything to have a happy life with someone he thought cared about him and loved him.

My dad fell for Jared's apologies and the fake promises. He stayed scared for his life and mine because of the person he believed wasn't such a deranged person. He also gave up hope on leaving. He accepted life where he hadn't gone outside again until I was three years old. Even then it wasn't for long periods of time for the both of us when Jared told him to make sure he stayed close and I never got to make friends.

We were trapped inside the house. Trapped away from town no one heard the shouting when Jared snapped. No one saw the bruises on my dad's face and the hand prints displayed on his arms from where Jared pulled him with force. Pushing my dad when he got angry and he didn't care I was right there. I remember sleeping with one eye partially open when my room was in the living room they made for me. I witnessed more than any child my age should. But I never said anything.