Alex And The Rolling Stones

My Bad Begining

And it was late, already 11:30. I was trying to get to sleep. Not in a warm, comfy bed with stuffed animals, and blankets though.
Jeff used to keep me locked in my room, while I slept in my crib. He eventually realized that my bed was too comfortable for me, said also that the bedroom would make a good bar.

Jeff got a new bar-what ever that is, and I lost my bed. He started keeping me in a dog cage. It's no different than being in my crib though.
Daddy isn't happy unless he's gaining something, and I'm loosing something, and suffering.

The moonlight shined in through a small window in the corner, across from the cage. The metal cage that is my bed, is centered on the cement floor, between two plain, gray walls.-I couldn't see around the corner, and neither could Jeff (daddy).

I snuck out when 'he' forgot to lock the cage.

All of a sudden......

"Alexander Wesley! You little bastard, where the hell are you!"
I hear Jeff calling for me.

'Please don't find me.'
I pray silently.

"Alexander, you little shit, if you escaped, I'm gonna kill you!"  

I hate when people call me Alexander! Then I know I've done something wrong. And, for me it just doesn't sound right!

I ran down the halls quietly, crawled into a closet, and covered myself with a blanket or something.

"Alex, you bastard, where the hell are you!"
Jeff shouted.

I hear his heavy foot steps coming closer.

When I'm sure he's given up finding me, I curl up in a tight ball.
-That was easy for me because I'm so small. I look like a two year old, but I'm 3.

"You idiot! There you are you little shit! Your gonna wish you weren't born!"
He said grabbing me by my hair, and yanking me out of the closet.
I tripped over the coat that became tangled in my feet as he dragged me out of the closet.

Jeff jerked up on my arm when I tripped. At this point I was wishing I wasn't born.

"It's time for your daily dose of punishment!"
He shouts.

"Please, no! Stop, don't do it. I sorry, I-"
I shouted as I cried.

Crying, was sometimes my only relief.

"You won't be escaping again, ever you bitch!"
Jeff shouted.

He grabbed my hair in his hand, drug me down the steps, and around the corner as the wood cut into my bare legs.
I screamed and cried.

As he stopped abruptly, he harshly flung open a wooden door in which the wood was cracked, and creaked when opened. He tightened his grip on me as he drug me down to the freezing basement. Then he threw me to the floor as if I weighed nothing, and to him, I didn't.

He grabbed my hair again, and hit me once more.
I winced.
He picked me up by my raggedy, red colored, short-sleeve shirt till my bare feet were off the ground. He pined me to the cold, hard, gray, cement wall.

"I've tried to keep you contained, I've fed you!"-no he hasn't. "You never listen! So, now you'll learn!"
He yelled straight in my face, spitting a little.

As he let's go, I drop to the ground, and he hits my arms, and then my back.

I screamed, and cried.-Nobody heard me.

I didn't understand him.
I didn't like him.
He was my dad though.-and I could never escape that!

Even though I'm only three, he acted like I should know everything.

He ripped off my clothes, and started to whip me with the belt.

"In you idiot! NOW!"
He shouted harshly shoving, and kicking me to get back into the cage.

I did as he threw my clothes into the cage with me.

"Stop crying you stupid baby!"
He screams.

I slowly turned around too see him locking the cage with 2 locks to make sure I wouldn't escape-I was giving up though.

'Was it worth living?'
'Nobody loves me right?'
I began to question myself.

"Your a peace of fuck'n work! Fuck'n bastard, Alexander!"

Jeff swore as he shook the cage, as my frail, sweaty, and tiny fingers reached for the bars to keep myself steady.- That's not really what I was reaching out for though.
I was reaching out for help, love, comfort, and reassurance.
Reassurance that I'd live, and everything would be ok.
But if and when I get it, will I gain trust and take it?
No.

Jeff scowled at me, took a gulp of the yucky, smelly stuff, and smashed the bottle on the ground in front of me, and stormed up the steps saying bad words.

Again, I was left in this hellish, mournful, overcast of the basement.
I felt chills run up my body.

I was cold.
I tried to put my ripped clothes on, but couldn't.

This is the sad story of Alexander (Alex)Wesley, but soon Alex Jones.🏴