The Secrets That I Keep

Every night I shut my eyes, rest my head and say my ABC's twice in hopes of falling asleep with a clear mind. The immediate thought following my routine is I see my step mother lying there on the grass with two gunshot wounds in her stomach and one gunshot wound in her throat. I can see her lifeless body struggling for air as my father walks away to let her die. As soon as this flashback comes to an end my eyes open wide and I stare at the dark ceiling for the remainder of the night. Once my body finally gives in to my exhaustion my body shuts off but my mind still wanders. My vivid dreams intertwine with past experiences filled with fear and abandonment. I wake up exhausted but get a sense of relief that I no longer have to endure the fear of my father killing himself in front of me or coming after me, being trapped in a room with him and being forced to look into his daring evil eyes that are testing my ability to not be defeated, the desperate feeling of seeing him in the distance but he keeps getting farther and farther away every time I attempt to get close, and the pain I have no choice but to take from Chantz forcing himself in me as I pray for it to be over soon. I have a minimum of 5 minutes filled with pure bliss of reassurance that I'll be ok until the voice in my head reminds me that my father put a bullet through his brain. I can see the perfect cigar burn circle engraved on his right temple. I eventually shake this memory off and begin to start my day but it lingers in the back of my head constantly reminding me of the ultimate betrayal my father had committed.

The first love of a girl's life is their father. My father ended up being my first heartbreak starting at the age of 8 when I watched him glide a knife across his wrist. I can still feel the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I felt when I stared at him as he laughed at his pain and showed me the damage he had inflicted on himself. The most degrading feeling you could ever experience as a little girl is the sense of guilt for not being able to save a mentally ill man from his own mind who happens to be the love of your life and protector. I knew from there on out that I would never be enough for my father but I'll be damned if he made my family feel the same. He attempts suicide two times after this incident and after each one I see the life getting taken away from my dad's eyes and aura. The more time that passes, the more I begin to realize there is no getting him back. His intentions became evil and he wanted nothing more than for his family to feel his pain. The only time I felt hopeful for my dad's life was when Mary came into the picture. Despite the games he was playing with me and my family behind her back, she made him appear sane and happy for a while. But behind this smile and act of his, lies beneath a demon he tried so hard to tame. Eventually he began his mind games which then escalated to him choking Mary out and following her up the staircase to her son's room with a wooden bat which he then asked "well who is it going to be?" During this time period I'd receive a text on Sundays from my father which read, "Let's have a church moment. What is the ultimate betrayal Judas could commit besides cheating?" But then the conversation would then end with, "I think you should apply this conversation into your own life." He was implying that I had betrayed him by telling Mary about my trauma he had caused back in South Carolina. He had a habit of picking me out of the 4 kids to torture. He'd randomly drop me and not speak to me for months until I'd all of a sudden get invited back to West Virginia to come see him. This plays a significant role in my fear of abandonment.

The last time I saw my father I called him out for hurting Mary and her family. Mary had pulled me into their bathroom while he was mowing the lawn to tell me how frightened she was of him and needed to find a way to escape. All I managed to say before him coming back into the house was, "You need to create a plan to leave him. You have to leave him Mary. This is getting out of hand and I can't save you or him." This made me decide I had enough. A lot of things were said between me and him which led to him calling me a piece of shit. Once I realized there was no chance of me and Jennifer being safe for the rest of the trip, I made the decision to pack our things to leave him. The very last thing he said to me was, "you take care of yourself Elizabeth". This will forever haunt me due to no returned calls or texts until it was no longer possible for him to respond. Everyday I think about how far gone he was the last time I saw him. He had no emotion, his face was pale, lifeless in his eyes and appeared to be putting all of his energy into not letting his demons win. He looked exhausted. I can only imagine the work he had to put in everyday to manage his dark and evil thoughts. At the end, he became the person he feared and as a result of this tragedy he took a part of me with him. I spend time fighting with myself about what I could have done to save him and Mary. As well as coming up with reasons for why my dad was right about me being a piece of shit. I live with immense pain and a void that will never be filled. If I wasn't enough for my father to get help and still be here today, then who will I be enough for? Will I ever be enough? This is the start of the restrictions I place on people in order for them to not get too close to me. I can't handle hating myself more than I already do and don't want anybody around to see it.