Don't Believe Me, Im Telling The Truth

Chapter 1- dreams

When I was young I would dream about how I would meet the perfect guy, how I would have a terrible life and he would save me, I would fall in love, get married and have 2 kids. It would be the same but different recurring dreams every night but they would never be perfect. To someone who is not me, it may sound as if I'd have some mental issue that needs medical assistance to control it but to me, it was fun and when someone interrupted by dreams I would get frustrated but it made me do things faster. I could sit down and just dream.

It's not that I want to be in a terrible situation where I'm abused by my drunk mother or I live in an orphanage because my parents were beaten and burned to death infront of me when I was 7- by assassins -who will eventually come looking for me.

Its because of the way I look at things, in every bad situation something good must come out of it. So if something as bad as being abused has a happy ending, instead of being sent to another family where they will love and cherish me as their own (even though that would be the best thing for those who unfortunately do get abused) why not let the handsome godlike badboy from school take a liking to me and save me from my horrible home, take me to his mansion, get married and have kids-instead.

Like I said.... that's how I thought when I was young.

Right now I'm a 25 Year old female, no job, no kids, no parent's (kinda), no job and the big one "que drums" no lover.

What do I have?  Well I have my best friend Alex who I met when I was 16. He helped me through some shit I got into a year ago between the police and a murderer....

Anyway coincidentally I met him because he was running to school, turned a sharp corner and bumped into me. We said hello and from then on we met at the corner every day at 7am, hung out during maths English and lunch, and walked to the corner before we went our separate ways.

Over the months of us being friends I would laugh at his clumsiness, wonded why he was on such a harsh diet and joked with him about how if he doesn't be home by 3:30pm he would be sentenced to hell, But then after the fourth month when I was sitting on a swing at the park on silver street, I realized that he was hiding.

He wasn't clumsy he was hiding his pain with laughter, he was on a harsh diet because of his at home circumstances and he would literally be going to hell if he made it home late. Everything made sense, his baggy long clothing during Australia summers, never taking me to his house, everything.

As soon as I realized I screamed in frustration. This was my thing, I should have seen the signs, I'm just like the kids in my dreams that never took notice and it killed me, my best-only friend could be being beaten to death right now but I'm sitting on a swing doing nothing about it.

I ran a mile down the road to the police station, told police man Worris what I believed and he told me I was just imagining things, that he knew who I was talking about because of past suspicions the neighbors had complained about the same thing.

So they called my mother. Pulled out the tape recorder that had recorded my 'suspicion' and chucked it in the bin. Not a word said after as he left the room to explain to my mother why I was there.

My mother didn't believe me. Mr Morris didn't believe me but I believed.

As soon as the car door opened as my my mum parked her Toyota ute in our steep black tiled driveway. I ran.

When I got to his house -which I only knew it's where-abouts because I stalked him one afternoon- I opened the door and was smacked in the face with the stench of blood and smoke.

Walking slowly towards the kitchen that I could see from down the hall, I could hear painful moaning.

It was Alex. Crouched in the corner, battered, bloodied and burned, shaking head to toe, arms wrapped around his legs back against the wall eyes closed. He was scared, petrified, a word could not explain how he felt.

I called the police, ordered them around as Alex only listened to me, got his parents arrested, got my mother to sign a paper stating that he would live with us. and that was the end of it

I realized that what I dreamt of was crude, horrible, how could I dream of something like that. I guess you only realize how bad things are when you actually experience the pain. For me it was the pain of my best friend that made me open my eyes,away from the dreams.

No we never became lovers, Alex was unable to love, he was that traumatized to the point he never wanted any social contact apart from certain people. 16 years of abuse does a lot but he has the biggest heart I know, and if anybody got close to him in a love manner, I would sure keep an eye on them because if they ever hurt him. They would never want to know what would happen or else they leave the country, change their identity and live a low life in the shadows.

You guys probably have no clue why I'm telling you this and I have no idea why either but it I feel like its a bit of Information you guys should know for future reference incase something comes up.

Back to what I have-Alex.....and his house that I'm currently staying in because I quit my job as a police officer last November.

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I have noooo idea what this is but may as well upload it
Hope you enjoy😊