His Heart-REWRITTEN

Chapter One: When Imagination Died

I was seven, a little girl with the imagination of thousand light beams. I loved the dresses my parents bought me and the little plastic heels they came with. I loved when my dad sat with me, plastered in make-up, sipping make-believe tea out of the dainty tea set my mum got me when I was six. I loved when mum would tie my hair into two perfect pigtails and my long brown hair would bounce and swing left-right-left-right with every skip. I loved when my mum and dad would hold my hands tight in their own as I walked between them and with every few steps they'd swing me high and I'd pretend to fly and catch the birds flying in the clouds.

I loved that they were there through my nightmares and when I heard something scratching in my closet. I love them.

Well...

I loved them.

All it took was two things. And six beautiful years of love plummeted and cracked just like when daddy kicked my table and the tea set broke. Fragile memories collapsing, brittle glass splattering everywhere. He said, "sorry my sweetie, daddy lost his job."

I smiled and hugged him. Mum then came into the room and cleaned the mess.

Two days later when I asked mum one morning to tie my hair into pigtails with the golden ribbon which she favoured she said, "No, mummy is busy and she needs you to go to your room."

Seven year old me tilted her head as sadness succumbed in her and she complained immediately, saying it will only take a minute. Hastily she tied the ribbons but they weren't perfect and the bows were sloppily done. Once again the tantrum struck and annoyance crept like a dagger into mums face.

Smack!

And this time...I didn't like how my pigtails swayed right, and I was not waiting for them to swing left either. Tears welled in my eyes and my small cold hand held my burning cheek. Looking at the door of mums room, my dad stood stock still. With the nonchalant look, I knew he wasn't going to do anything. So I left the room.

Each passing day became worse. Milk with cookies disappeared, beer and newspapers with red rings appeared. A smack turned to a harsh pull of my hair and mum started using more makeup on me. She said that no one is allowed to see the faded red paint on my arms shaped as fingers or the purple on my cheek where their knuckles caressed.

How sick? She covered up her marks and dad just drank and switched sports channels.

Mail piled up and at eight, I realised we were having financial and upcoming bankruptcies. Crazy... I thought that's what the beatings were preventing and the selling of my princess dresses were helping. At least that's what dad and mum said,

"We discipline you because mum and dad believe by doing so you won't become spoilt and will understand your boundaries. You keep asking for things and daddy and I don't have the money for that."

"Selling your things help to buy food sweetie... stop crying and be a big girl."

But everything stayed the same and I become their 'Hey look! A rag doll to beat our stress out on.' Well, that's how I felt at age eight and a half...beatings became worse and imagination died with each passing day. Closets became a safe space and scratches were the least of my scares. And the words...sent daggers into my heart.

I would repeat the words if I had the heart to, but even with it broken, I couldn't. I was small fragile and my knowledge of things was limited.

Age nine and my little years of life flashed before my eyes. My mum and dad stood before me, both drunk and screaming their lungs out. Glistened eyes and trembling hands, I gazed at the people I called my parents.

"We need to end this now!"

"But we don't have the money for the drugs Vivian!"

Glass bottles shatter onto the floor and pieces fly everywhere. I remember how a huge shard came straight for my face and how my hands instinctively shot up to block it. The burn of it skimming just above my eye released a high pitched scream from my clogged throat.

"Shut up you little brat!" Hot drops of tears raced down my cheeks as dad gripped my forearm and dragged me. Pulling was never an option but since my little legs couldn't keep up with the longs strides, they just dragged.

I was slammed against a wall, I was kicked and then the words I wish I hadn't heard pierced through my ears.

"Kill Her." It came from dad.

"Why, David?" not a disagreement but looking for reasoning.

"Sell her stupid parts and then we can live happily again."

Silence, while I crumbled further into the floor.

It was sickening and heartbreaking to know the two people who were supposed to protect you were considering killing you. I guess they meant it when they said, "We put you in this world, we can take you out of it."

"Get your gun." With that, I screamed because what else could I do. I was numb, I was cold, but no ones ready to die. I wasn't ready to die. I heard a click and I felt the looming presence of my father. Trembling, I shut my eyes tight and focused on my erratic breathing.

BANG! BANG!

Flinching at the sound and feeling like the pain would only register once the shock evaporated, I clenched my body tighter into itself but the loud thuds of two bodies falling, made my brows furrow.

Opening my eyes I met the brown eyes of my father staring at me...lifeless. I knew my mother was just behind him but the voices inside me refused to register this.

Staring at him was all I could do. The effects of the beer and drugs, of anger and hatred showing plainly in his physical appearance. And even so, I felt my soul reach for what I hoped was still my father, only to come out empty-handed.

In the end, my parents didn't die in a car crash or a freak accident. They abused me and were shot by the cops who barricaded through our crusty wooden front door, a short plump women holding her hand to her mouth, pity shining in her eyes just outside the porch.

***

Sooo... that was a bit intense but that's our dear Isa's sad beginning. Let's just pray it gets better.

(Btw I'm not promising anything)

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Love you guys and those who have returned and those new, enjoy and buckle up- it's gonna be one hell of a ride.

xcrazymonkeyx