Nightmare

Run. Faster, faster, faster. He won't catch me. He can't catch me. Faster. The trees around me are flying by so fast. Blurring. Everything around me is blurring. Run. Faster. But not fast enough. Not fast enough to outrun him. He has made it clear by now, that no matter how hard I try, I just can't outrun him.

Gasping for breath, I shot up in bed, once again, like many other instances, forgetting where I am. I'm safe now. He can't hurt me anymore. He'll never hurt me again. This is a typical occurrence nowadays. The dreams. The nightmares. The terror. It took one night for my mother to realise that we could make a better life. A better life without my father in it. And so it's been two years and three months since we left. I'm supposed to be better now. I'm supposed to have forgotten about it. Moved on. But how? How can I do that? Because I'd really like to know. Nightmares plague my mind, when sleep is meant to be the only refuge I have. But then again, is it really a nightmare if it was once my life?

My father was the worst kind of human anyone could ever encounter. He still haunts my life and not only the physical abuse, but the emotional abuse is a big factor in how I present myself today. 'You stupid little brat. Can't do anything right, can you? I told your mother she should've gotten an abortion. Stupid bitch didn't listen to me. You'll get what's coming to you, you'll get it.' And then there were the words that now alter my daily routine. 'That's the wrong way Alex. That's not the way to do it, you worthless bastard. Why can't you ever get it right? You put on your underwear, then the pants and then your shirt. How many times do I need to punish you for you to get something right for once in your god damn life?' Ironically, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't put my clothes on in the correct order. It's routine by now. Habit. Little things like that, you know? Still haunting me day by day. So that's what my life was like now: 'normal' days every day, while constantly fighting away the memories. And then came another defining moment in my life that once again, altered my life, for a second time in my seventeen years on this Earth.

A cool Saturday morning. Birds chirping as the sun rose above the horizon. Peaceful. I didn't have a nightmare last night. The first time in weeks. The birds stopped chirping all at once. Maybe I should have taken that as a sign. But I didn't. I didn't think anything of it. The doorbell. It rang. Little things like that normally make me a little jumpy. It didn't this time. Maybe I was getting too comfortable in this living situation. Maybe I was thinking that for once, God, or whoever was above, was finally looking out for me. Trying to steer my life in the right direction. I was wrong. It seems as though he didn't care about me or the suffering I have endured because when I open the door, I'm staring into my father's cold, cruel eyes. Eyes that are so much like mine that I hated it. "Hello, son," he greets me, as if nothing had ever happened between us. Like no pain transpired between us. Like he wasn't the dead-beat father he actually is. Like he wanted to walk back into my life like nothing had ever happened. To hell with that. But as I stand here, I can't help but remember those last words he said to me. 'You trying to walk away from me? Are you? You're nothing without me, just a worthless little boy who'll go nowhere in his life. I'll be back. I'll be back for you, and when that happens, you won't slip from my crutches a second time. I'll see you then, little boy.' Frozen in fear, we stand across from each other, until movement catches my eye. Mum. What is she doing walking up to us calmly? Why is her hand now placed in my fathers? Why is she looking at me with pity in her eyes?

"Hey sweetie, I think we all need to have a little chat." Mum says, so calmly. Too calmly. What could we possibly have to say to this man? Why is her hand still resting in his?

It seems that I can't do anything. It's like I've last all ability to function my body. So I stand here with a gaping expression on my face. Or maybe it's a lost look on my face? I don't know, and quite frankly, I don't want to know. It's like one of my nightmares. He's coming after me, and when I try to scream, nothing comes out. Nothing. No one would hear me. No one would be able to save me. Nothing. This felt like that dream. And that was one of the worst nightmares of the many I have encountered over the past two years.

Helpless. I feel helpless. What does one do in a situation like this? I'd really like to know because the only thing I'm doing right now is breathing. And that's becoming increasing difficult with each passing second. "Come on, let's all go inside, it's starting to get cold again." And then we go inside. And like every other instance in my life, my father is controlling me. Again.

Sitting on the couch rigidly, I wait for someone to speak. I need to know what's happening. Why is he here? Why did mum sit with him on the other couch and not next to me? Why is she still holding his hand? Why is she doing this again? And then, and then she mutters the words that I hoped I'd never have to hear, "sweetie, your father and I are getting back together."

Nothing. I say nothing. Why, you ask? Because she doesn't deserve a response. She doesn't deserve one because while I thought she was becoming stronger. She's not. She's weak. And there we go again. Another one of my nightmares, becoming a reality. I can't face this though. Not right now. While mum is still the weak woman she used to be, I am stronger. To hell with letting this man come in, and control our lives once again. So, I got up and left. Shouting across my shoulder that I 'needed time to process.' I don't need time to process. Because my fate is now inevitable. My nightmare has finally returned, just like he said he would, this time with more vengeance, and he won't let us slip from his grasp another time. He's learnt from his mistakes now. And me? I was a 17-year-old boy whose life has been irrevocably turned upside down. And I couldn't do anything about it.