Alone with the Lies
Prologue:
They say words can kill. If only I knew that the phrase was meant so literally. Only God knows why I did it. Shame I don’t believe in him. I fell out with God a long time ago when he took my mum. God let my dad beat my mum to a pulp every day. Sometimes ‘within reason’, but most of the time without. He would never hurt me or Tamra though. At least I think he wouldn’t. When he hears about this though, I’ll soon be set straight.
My name is Terri Jamiel, and this is my story.
Chapter 1:
It all started off with a few white lies. White lies can’t hurt you see- or as I like to call them: HALF TRUTHS. Because the truth is there, just you can’t see all of it.
I’ve grown up with a fabricated childhood. Having to help mum cover up all her bruises and scars with vigorous amounts of makeup and Bio-Oil. Telling school cronies that she tripped and fell again down the stairs and watching the dis-belief fill their widened eyes. Going to school feeling on the verge of death because I gave up my dinner to feed Tamra, seeing as dad was forever gambling and drinking all our money away.
If you had lived the life I did what would you have done? I craved the attention. Longed for the taste of being enviED not the enviER. Hankered after the grace of being the auspicious one, the one to captivate all the popular crew’s bitter hearts and minds.
So I told a few fibs. Well… I didn’t really tell them I vociferated them at the top of my voice… I dissimulated about everything. From what my parents did for a living to how much my coat cost, I lied till I was blue in the face. In hindsight I’m not proud of what I’ve done but that’s the thing. You can’t turn back time and you most definitely cannot ‘un-lie’ and take back what you said. I’ve gotten so good at becoming such a compulsive liar that I didn’t even have to think sometimes. It would be there just out in the open for all my “mates” to take in and use to their advantage when gossiping.
But little lies are sometimes benign and innocuous. You can lie to spare one’s feelings or to better yourself in their eyes. I had and still have no consideration for others and their emotions. And to be honest I don’t really give a monkey’s behind. You have to play the game right otherwise you will never get far.
Chapter 2:
‘He, who permits himself to lie once, finds it easier to do it a second time’ Thomas Jefferson. Throughout my life I have lived by certain quotes. Most of them dark and dangerous, but others are things I can relate to. Like that one. Because it’s true, if you’ve done it once, you can do it again. And many more times after that really.
You might think me an inadequate person now. Think I do this because I'm evil and nefarious. But I'm not. I think I suffer from Mythomania- the abnormal or pathological tendency to exaggerate or tell lies- and I cannot help my condition. When I told dad about it, he gave me such a flogging, I'm surprised I didn't drop dead just there. I didn't tell him I also suffer from Paranoia, Megalomania and various other mental illnesses I've read about that fit me in their categories...
I feel so alone most of the time. Like I'll never be good enough for anyone. Dad blames me for mum dying, saying that I caused her so much stress and how she was never the same after she had me. It was like she had permanent post-natal depression. Like I believe that. I'm probably the way I am because he used to beat her even when she was pregnant.
Not that I would ever be so bold and indignant as to say that to his face. Like I could dare and still live to tell the tale. He loves us, I know that much but he is an obsessive, bellicose autocrat who whenever NOT in control- on that rare occasion- is so catastrophic that you know better than to defy him, and if you have, you better get apologising and begging for mercy. See because he is not just an assertive, truculent PIG, he is also a non-compliant, ‘I’m always right and you’re wrong’ scoundrel, who takes great delight in the misfortune of others. And he is my dad.
