Monsters

Part Two

Life once asked death, "Why do people love me but fear you?"

Do you know the answer?

I wish I didn't have the slightest clue what that meant. The horrible reality of things opens your eyes to the truth of the world. Life is a beautiful lie and death is nothing more than the painful truth. 

Death.

Such a simple concept but most of us fear the outcome. As a child I wished nothing more than for my father to accidentally kill me during one of my many beatings. He almost did but he made a mistake and it ended his life instead. 

Karma.

Another simple idea that what goes around comes around. I was the reason for my mother and father's death so it would only be fair that anyone I actually loved and cared about would also be ripped from my heart. 

After my father's death the state stuck me with my father's young widow. She had saved my life by ending his. While he was choking me to death she had hit him in the back of the head and caused enough damage to kill him slowly. His death wasn't a pleasant occurrence in the slightest. He had a slow brain bleed and by the time the doctors caught it, it was too late. 

When I had awoken in a hospital bed, I was beyond afraid. Where was my father? He was going to be very upset that I was here. I was wasting his money and people were going to find out about the abuse I had been enduring. 

The doctor was a younger woman, too young to be our of her residency, with fiery red hair and bright green eyes. She looked at my broken body and you could see the pain in her eyes. 

"Who did this to you?" 

Didn't she know what that question meant? I couldn't tell her or he would be upset with me. Telling her only meant I would be in even more pain and torture. Here I was, twelve years old, trying to save the reputation of the man who physically and mentally abused me my entire life. 

"Nobody," was my response to her waiting eyes. 

She sighed and look at me really hard, "Honey, your father, he's not able to hurt you any longer. He will never be able to hurt you again."

Those words sent a jolt through my sore and tired body. Where was he? They didn't arrest him did they? These people were only going to make it worse on me and they didn't even know it. As soon as he is released I will be dead. 

She continued, "Your father suffered a blow to the back of his head that caused him to bleed into his brain. We didn't catch the trauma in time, your father passed last night, I'm sorry." 

I was at a loss for words. This woman just informed me that I was an orphan and the only thing I could think of was that I was finally free. 

Laughter started bubbling up throat, tears sprang from my eyes, the pain was gone.  

The next few years of my life everything was slowly getting better. I didn't flinch every single time someone moved too quickly or talked a little too loud. My bruises faded and my fractured bones mended. My late father's young bride took me in and helped me heal. She taught me what love was suppose to be. 

For once in my life I had a mother figure who actually cared about me. She bought me nice clothes that I got to pick out, let me eat the greasiest cheeseburgers, helped me be a real teenager. 

Sadly, like I said before, karma showed up. When I turned 17 she was hit by a car right in front of my eyes. Her and I had agreed to meet for dinner at our favorite pizza shop. I watched her with the biggest smile on my face as she waited to cross the busy street. The light turned green, telling her she could safely walk, she didn't see the car that decided to run the red light. 

My life had been torn apart again. Even the therapist that I spoke to three times a week couldn't help me control the downward spiral. 

It took me two long years, more bottles of vodka than any should ever drink and lots of meaningless sex to finally heal from her loss. When I realized I had hit rock bottom it was what I needed to clean myself up. I was 19 when I swore off alcohol and any other drugs for good. My birth parents were drug addicts and alcoholics and I was not them. There past mistakes did not define me. 

So at 19 I enrolled into community college and worked my hardest to become someone I was proud of. With the help of my long term therapist and the couple of real friends I had made by the age of 23 I had graduated at the top of my class with a business degree. 

To celebrate my friends had taken me out to a club downtown. They knew I didn't drink or do anything to mess with my sobriety but they wanted me to finally have fun. The dance floor was a packed house of sweat covered bodies grinding against each other. Perfume and smoke coated the air.

I slipped from my friends grasp and slunk to the bar, "Ginger ale, please." 

He slipped me my glass and moved on to the next person. I sat at the bar and watched my friends dance from afar. They meant well but really I didn't want to be here. I wanted to  be at home with my sweat pants and a good book. 

A tall man dressed in dark washed jeans and a black button up caught my attention. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing a arm full of tattoos and scars. I looked to his face only to meet his eyes. They were a beautiful shade of blue and I could see myself getting lost in them for the rest of my life. 

Without saying a word we met on the dance floor and his hands became the most addictive drug I could have ever imagined. I had decided right then and there that this man was going to be my undoing. If I was to be damned then I wanted him to be the one to save me.