The Devil is Marvelous

Chapter 32 - Ava's Origin

~Disclaimer: Material below contains sensitive topics such as abuse, mental and physical illness, and death. Please read with caution.~

To understand my life we must start from the very beginning.

My father's name is Ashton Vexheart. I don't know much about him, however, I have heard stories about him through my mother. Apparently, Ashton was a drunk, a drug addict, had no sense of responsibility and severely lacked motivation. He got a girl pregnant in high school, and refused to help her take care of the kid. This girl was Talia Abrams, Melissa's mother. After Melissa's birth, Talia obtained full legal custody of her. They moved to California, along with Talia's parents, and Ashton didn't care. Good riddance to them, he could now continue his night life without distractions.

My mother met Ashton at a party. At first, their relationship was purely hookups, but over the years it blossomed into more. Once again, my father got a girl pregnant, but this time he believed he was ready to settle down. My mother, Lila, gave birth to Nathan on June 2nd. Ashton decided to mail Melissa a letter about the arrival of her new brother. Melissa was now five years old, and Talia had graduated from college. When the letter reached them in California, Talia read Melissa the letter with a smile plastered to her face, but a broken heart inside.

All seemed well in the first year of Nathan's life. Ashton and Lila were two peas in a pod, in love and happy with the life they were building. They moved in together, and even discussed the possibility of marriage.

Unfortunately, their happiness didn't hold up. By the time Nathan was two, Ashton had started drinking again. He thought he could control himself, but doesn't every alcoholic believe that? He progressively got worse.

Four nights a week...five nights a week...every damn night of the week.

While drunk, Ashton became aggressive and reckless, and had even found his way back to hardcore drugs. Lila begged him to get help, pleading with his drunk, high mind every night, but he would never listen. She had to hide in her room with Nathan and lock the doors, for otherwise if one little thing ticked him off, he'd go on a drunk rampage. My mother knew if Ashton didn't get help, there was no way she could live the rest of her life with him, especially with Nathan and another child on the way. The night she warned Ashton about leaving, he smacked her across the face.

The next morning she was raced to the hospital, bruised cheek and all, to give birth to me. I was born in May, a month before Nathan turned three. Ashton never showed up to the hospital. When the doctors discharged Lila a few days later, her friend was the one to help her home. They found a note on the kitchen counter.

Ashton was gone.

I was never able to read that note, but I knew my mom kept it. I was curious as to what excuse he'd written for why he left. I never had the courage to ask my mom if I could read it.

Lila did her best to raise Nathan and I, but we were dirt poor. We moved to a crowded home in downtown Detroit, in a less than safe neighborhood where you could occasionally hear gunshots in the night. Our mother worked day and night to keep food on the table, and thankfully her best friend was able to babysat us until we were old enough to go to school.

I was so grateful to have my brother, he was my best friend. After school, Nathan would make us snacks and sit me down in front of the TV. He would help me with homework, make me play street football with him so I could "toughen up". He would grab food out of the freezer to heat up for our mother when she returned from work. After dinner, he washed dishes and made me dry and put them away. He always told me we have to help mom out as much as we could, for she was tired and needed our support. After chores, Nathan would let me stay in his room until bedtime, singing along to the radio and teaching me how to dance. We were young, so we weren't that good, but nonetheless it was some of my happiest memories. At 10 o'clock, he would walk me into our mom's room to say goodnight, then into my room. Every night he sang me to sleep.