The Hole Within

CHAPTER 10

Shortly after the wedding Mom and Mike planned a month-long honeymoon cruise. A young Mormon couple would stay with us while they were gone. I felt as if Mike was taking her away and it served to deepen my hate for him. With no parental supervision, I was unafraid of the couple's authority. My behavior moved out of my bedroom and became increasingly bizarre. My sisters now tell of horrors I put them through though I do not remember doing the things they claim. Stuff like locking one in a closet for hours at a time. Terrorizing both with theatrics of cutting off my brother's head, using ketchup for the blood. I am sure I did some scary shit. The couple were certainly frightened of me, especially the woman. About two weeks in I scared her so badly that they called Mike. I may have threatened her, I am not sure. I was called to the phone and I listened to Mike threaten me, that if I continued to cause trouble and made them come home early I would be sorry. The menace in his voice made me believe him. I made my retreat to my bedroom and lived out the next two weeks barely seen or heard from.

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I would sit in my room for hours, dark except for the candle I had lit and watched the flame as I listened to heavy metal. Sometimes I would write, others I would immerse myself in the music and the darkness. My list of those I wanted to punish became a hit list of people I would gladly kill. I was filled with hate and anger. I knew that I was evil so I started to give myself over to Satan. As I once fervently prayed to Heavenly Father, I began to pray to Satan with equal zeal. I imagined that he gave me a sense of power in my powerless existence. I worked on my kill list. I do not remember what I did for hours on end other than sit, imagine those that had done me wrong dead, write and pray. I was moody and dark when I had to socialize with the family. Eventually, because of her concern, my mom searched my room while I was at school. I came home to find mom sitting on the couch with papers all around her. She called me to her and I saw that they were the notes of love that Linda had written to me. I was instantly enraged at the breach of privacy. I was embarrassed to have her read Linda's words that were meant for me. She started asking me questions about our relationship. Had we been physical? Had we kissed? Had we done more? How far did we go? I was horrified at being asked these intimate questions. I did not admit to anything, telling her that she was reading into what she read. There was no way I was going to admit to any impropriety with Linda. Linda and I were not supposed to be communicating with each other. Mom had also found my kill list. "What is this?" she cried, "You created a hit list?" I did not know what to say. I backpedaled trying to explain it away but it did no good. She demanded to see my backpack and I relented. She searched through it with vigor finding several more notes from Linda. She confiscated everything. To this day, I have no idea what she did with them. All I knew then was that I had been stripped bare. I was finally released and went to my bedroom only to find that my bedroom door had been removed. I felt invaded. I felt outraged. I had to go to the bathroom to change my clothes. When I went back into my bedroom I noticed the bare walls where pictures I had drawn had been removed. I was an avid artist and I drew portraits of my favorite singers, Pat Benatar and Debbie Harry from Blondie. I had a large well drawn picture of Debbie Harry in pencil that hung over the head of my bed. It was gone. Perplexed, I went out to mom and asked her what happened to it. She explained that I drew the picture of Harry with evil eyes and that she would not have that evil picture in her house. I was hurt. I had gotten an A for the work in art class and was very proud of it. I tried to argue with her, to plead my case, but it came to nothing. She told me that she was going to destroy it. This penetrated me to the core. I was badly hurt. I went back into my doorless room, lay down on the bed and cried. I wanted to call Linda to warn her that my mom might call her dad, but mom told me that from now on all my calls would be monitored. I did not even have my music as my records had been seized. My room was searched frequently. I had become a prisoner in my own home. It deepened my isolation and depression. It fueled my hate and anger.