The Demons Within Us

I feel the gag pull across my mouth as the blindfold whips my head back. The black cloth starts to tangle in my black hair. A ripping feeling crosses my scalp as he ties the cloth on the back of my head. They're trying to shut me up, they don’t want me to hurt anyone else. I can hear his footsteps crossing the floor as he paces towards the door. From the chair in the living room, I can hear him tear into a new can of beer. The smell of weed fills my nostrils through the black cloth. Mom would have never let this happen. If she were still alive, I wouldn't have to worry about dad's insane amount of alcohol he consumes on the daily, or Karlie's stupid amount of weed smoked in an hour. I wouldn't have to worry about being back handed or told I'm useless or "ensuring everything is done just the right way". Mom allowed mistakes; she allowed re-dos. She allowed love in the house too, not just the kind dad does with Karlie. Something I truly miss. Mom never saw what I saw in dad though. One night, he came home from work so drunk that he staggered into my room.

"You know, you ruined your mother's life" he would taunt me repeatedly. Mom came into the room, he called me sport, ruffling my hair. She turned around and walked out of my room. He leaned in after she walked out, "just go find something better to do with your life or just end it if all you can do is mess up" he whispered into my ear all the while smiling. Mom looked around the door, the look on her face nearly broke my heart. I was only seven at the time, I didn't know what else to do. Dad turned when he saw me looking to the beyond him, the tears sliding down my cheeks. Mom moves her hand up to her mouth, a single tear streaming down from her left eye and dropping gracefully to the floor. Dad turns to her, standing straight and says with an undignified ease "Jess, it's not what you think" he lurks towards her holding out his hand, but mom moves back into the hall.

"Don't you take another step you hear? Don't you talk to him like that again. He didn't do nothing wrong. He’s only seven and you're telling him to commit?! What is wrong with you?" Mom screams at dad from the hall, then she drops her hand and briskly passes by him to my side. "Come on baby, we're going away so you don't have to worry about daddy anymore." She comes over and picks me up, carrying me on her hip. She turns back to the door to leave but freezes. I can't see what is going on since she's holding my head so I can't turn, but I hear mom open her mouth to whisper quickly. "Jason, please don't do this. We can change things. We can start over." Momma is crying again, breathing heavier and heavier. I hear a click sound from the doorway where dad is standing. I can hear his feet shuffling on the hardwood floor as he shifts from foot to foot.

"I don't do re-do's or mistakes. None of what I have ever said, I regret. I always mean what I say and I'm saying I no longer need you two." *Bang*

Mom falls to the floor with me still in her arms. The tears silently falling from her eyes to the floor as she thuds sending me rolling from her arms. She doesn't move. Dad comes rushing over to me and begins yelling "go get your clothes! We're leaving now!" he screams at me as he grabs my arm, yanking me through the doorway. He kneels down beside her and picks her up, wrapping his arms under her neck and legs. She is completely limp, her arms swaying at an awkward angle as he pushes past me.

As he passes, I see the crimson stain on her favorite blue shirt. It's running down her side and dripping to the brown flooring below. He staggers to the basement door almost dropping her as he reaches for the handle. Momma would have been so mad he was making such a terrible mess while not trying to clean it, especially that he was wearing his boots in the house, ridden with mud and pebbles. He whips the basement door open, nearly ripping it off it's hinges, and begins marching down the stairs as he disappears from my vision. After about a minute, I hear a thump, then the sound of a shovel tearing and scraping across the old, rotted boards, wafts up. I hear the crack of splitting wood and the shovel digging in the dirt below. I used to play down there in the dirt for hours when dad would send me down for not doing something right. The digging stops, everything goes quiet.

I creep down a couple of stairs to see what he's doing with momma. I squat down on the highest step I can be on while still able to see him. He's dragging momma over to the hole he just dug. Momma's red tears stained the floor in streaks. I didn't know why momma wasn't fighting back or at least in pain from all the splinters she's getting. He drops her into the hole under the floorboards, not even gently. She still doesn't move.

It takes me a second, but I finally realize, momma is gone. She isn't coming back this time either.

Dad grabs the shovel once again and starts throwing the muddy, crimson dirt back on top of her, the whole time saying this one line over and over, "should've listened. Should've stayed. Should've done what you were told before someone got hurt, but no" he was talking to himself, that scares me every time. I can't sit here anymore watching him bury momma in the basement floor, so quietly, I move to my room to pack my clothes like dad told me. I'm so scared, but dad won't comfort me.I plop down on the floor and grab my bookbag from under my bed. I run over to the dresser throwing my clothes in it. Dad begins nailing the boards back in place now. I have to hurry, or he will be mad again. I grab my favorite stuffed animal that momma bought me. I slept with it every night since I was born. Fear grips at my chest as I feel the icy cold touch of a hand clamping down against my shoulder. I look up quickly, standing to my feet as straight as possible. "Get your stuff together yet?" he demands as he looks down to meet my eyes.

"Yes, sir." I respond with a slight stutter. He gives me a harsh look, then shoves me out of the room and out the front door to the car.

"Get in" he booms as he shoves my head down into the back seat. I fall over into the seat; he slams the door behind me. I watch him as he walks back into the house. He comes back out several minutes later with a garbage bag, then throws it beside me. He jumps into the front seat, then proceeds to start the car. He looks in the mirror to me; I look down to the floor. "Don't look in the bag. You hear?" I nod back to him, and he begins to drive away from the house; I look back as it slowly fades from my vision.

The scent of fresh winter air, crisp, cold while still feeling fresh, beats through the smell of weed, through the blindfold, then into my nose. The cold stings my nostrils in a welcoming way. Footsteps begin inching closer to me from the kitchen and father's grunt as he hobbles back towards me. I can hear him walk over to Karlie and begin half making out with her. I try to ignore that they have a relationship since I only ever saw dad with momma in my mind, despite the many women he brings to this godforsaken house. Sometimes, I pretend she's still around; dad is just ignoring her, like nothing ever actually happened, like I'd just imagined it all. I hate thinking about the way she died, because of me. Dad always says "you should've been the one. If you didn't exist, she would still be alive. She stepped in front of the bullet for you." He's right. She was trying to protect me. It was my fault.

Dad rips the blindfold off my face but leaves the gag. He smiles at me, then looks back up to Karlie who is staring so intently at the situation. I don't know why she thinks it's okay to dress the way she does with a kid in the room, but she doesn't care. Dressed head to toe in lingerie for dad's amusement. A very sheer dress that doesn't even reach her behind, the top of the black dress starts below her bra. It covers almost nothing. She twirls a piece of hair that didn't get put into the bun on top of her head like the rest. She licks her lips, then smiles that menacing little sneer while dad repeats the actions back to her.

I don't understand their sick kink of beating me but honestly, I prefer it to when he locks me in the basement for weeks at a time. I don't even think I made a mistake this time.

I lower my head just for a brief second, but he whips his head back to me. I jerk my head up to look him in the eye. He stands back up straight, again turning to her. I lower my head to my chest feeling ashamed of this situation. Without even time to blink, he whips his hand into the side of my face. My head jerks to the left aggressively. The gag slips partially out of my mouth. I lower my head to touch my chin to my chest.

I want to scream, I want to cry, I want mom, but I can't. Dad looks me dead in the eye, smiles, and lurks towards her. They start whispering things to each other, but I don't care what they're talking about right now. My face burns too bad to care about anything. I grunt quietly, but not quietly enough.

"Your mother should have tried to break you when you were younger instead of treating you like you ran the world. You're just a spoiled little brat and that's all you've ever been." He states as Karlie, and he walk into their room. He looks back to me before walking into the room, locking the door behind him. I lay my head back thinking of mom. I miss her, a lot. It should have been me. I look down to my shoes slowly as my head starts to fog over, a splitting headache comes on. I spit the gag out of my mouth the rest of the way. I begin twisting my hands to try to get free from the ropes. After about five seconds, the rope gently falls to the floor.

I'm thankful dad doesn't know how to tie the rope so that it would stay on. I bring my hands out in front of me then lean onto my knees. There are scars across both my wrists from the many times he bound me to this exact chair for his own purposes. I know superheroes aren’t real, but I could sure use one right now. I just know, I can't take any more of this.

I begin fiddling with the frayed rope around my ankles gently since they're now burning from the friction. I manage to untie it. I examine my ankles for a moment; they're beginning to scar. I stand up, quietly sauntering back to my room trying to force my ankles to stay strong enough to make it to the basement without buckling. I walk around the corner to the basement stairs, opening the creaky door as I approach it. I take a deep breath as I look down at the old rotting stairs.

I take a step down; mom's pleas replay through the darkness. I take another step; I hear the gunshot. Two more steps, her crimson blood is dripping off her blue shirt again. One more step; dad is shoving me out of the way; into the back seat of the car. Two more steps, dad buries her. Last step, we're driving away from my home. Away from everything I ever loved.

I reach for the pull cord that dangles down from the old light on the ceiling. It flickers a couple times then turns on. I look over to the cold, damp corner where my bed rests. I take a deep inhale then sigh. The only place where I feel safe now is in that bed, past my clothes tote, the pile of dad's tools, then past the bloody pile of towels. I turn around then plop on my bed, finally feeling at peace again. My head is still in such agony I want to pass out.

The crimson drips off my chin down to the floor in front of me. It lands softly on the muddy floor making a small puddle of red and brown. I lift my hand to my face, running it along to my cheekbone. The blood runs down my finger as I move my hands towards my eyes to see the damage. I rub my fingertips together then lean onto my elbows. The gray towel on the floor in the corner of my room is covered in splotches of blood mixed with a small dose of dirt. I stand up to walk over to grab it. Bending down to pick it up, my head starts to spin; I stumble around to the mirror to see my whole face. My right side , coated in a layer of drying blood and sweat. I bring the cloth to my face wiping some off. I inhale sharply through my teeth as I run the fabric across a major cut on my head. Under the layers of blood, my face is bruising quickly, a deep, dark purple and black. I reach over to the makeshift shelf, a board across two totes, grabbing the Advil from it and popping two to help with the headache as well as the pain in my face. I hear dad upstairs walking out of his room to recoil the ropes for tomorrow. I wander over to my bed sitting down on it once again, leaning my elbows on my knees. "You had better be getting in bed now! Do you hear me?" He screams to me from the top of the stairs. I can still hear the frayed ends of the rope rubbing against his hands as he coils once again. I look up to the towering staircase imagining it just collapses.

"Yes Sir!" I announce back up. He walks off heading back to his bedroom for the night. I stand up, sauntering over to pull the cord to turn out the light. It sways above my head as I turn on my heels to walk back to bed. I plop down with all the energy I have left within myself then lay my head on the old tattered and torn up pillow turning to face the ceiling. The wind whipping the branches of the shrub outside in swirls, so freely and gracefully. My eyes start to feel heavy. Slowly, they close. One day less.

"Get up! I'm not driving you to school, so you had better not miss that bus!" Dad wakes me from my slumber. I roll over off my bed then begin running around the room grabbing clothes for the day as he stares me down as if waiting for something. "You have five minutes to be out that door!" He hollers back to me as he saunters back up the stairs, each one creaking as he climbs. Once he disappears from view, I start stripping down, throwing my clothes back on as quickly as I can. My favorite and only hoodie sits on the edge of my mattress. I run over, grab it, grab my bag, then dart up the stairs. Karlie laughs behind me as I brush past her to get out the door to the corner.

"Don't miss your bus" she taunts from behind me with her crackling voice that creaks more than the floor under dad's weight or their bed every night. Her voice sounds like a literal bird having its windpipe crushed, somehow, probably from her being addicted to meth or from all the weed she inhales through those papers. I'd be surprised if she lasted another decade. She's only twenty-four. Dad likes the younger ones I guess hence, he's fifty-seven. He's thirty-three years older than her. Mom was ten years younger than him. I ignore her, racing to the end of the road. I stumble through the door as it slides shut behind me. I keep my head low as I trudge to the back of the bus, so I don’t have to see other kids' stares when they see my bruises. Exhausted, embarrassed, and scared, I plop down onto the seat throwing my bookbag against the window. A kid sitting in the seat ahead of mine, turns to look at me grimacing.

"What happened to your face?" He asks. I know he's just curious, but I don't want to answer. I look up to his little face, his blonde hair, curled on the ends, blows in the wind from the open window. He can’t be older than 10. He doesn't break his gaze upon my cheek and head.

Why can't people just mind their own business? Does he feel bad for me or is he just here to judge me?

I roll my eyes looking back towards the window while watching the snow-covered trees flit past. "I'm sorry, can I help you?" The boy asks. I turn my gaze back to him.

What's he sorry for? He can't have known he offended me, could he?

"What are you sorry for?" I ask as I look back to the window once again crossing my arms across my chest to keep warm. He sits on his knees shrugging.

"I don't know, I just feel bad" he responds adding "I'll just leave you be. I don't want to bother you and it's not my business." He turns around then sits back down. Well, that answers my question, doesn't it? I peer at the kid briefly shrugging it off. Jacob, the most annoyingly rude kid I've ever met, comes to the back, then sits in the seat across the aisle from me simply to torment me I assume. Why else would he be alive? He drops down on the seat then gazes to me smiling cheek to cheek. I glare across the aisle towards him as he chuckles looking me up and down.

"What's wrong idiot? Fall down the stairs again? Or did you just mess up as usual?" He scoffs "your dad needs to try harder. Seems like you never really learn your lesson. Maybe I should show him how to do it myself." He leans back in the seat laughing his butt off as I sit up even straighter to avoid being the last one off the bus at the school. Jacob's the last stop before which means we are only a few minutes away from that hellhole. Jacob and I never used to hate each other. We actually started off as friends before his new "gang" decided I was worthless as well, so Jacob followed them then decided to start acting like a self-centered jerk. Lucky for me I have knowledge, skill, and strength enough to knock him down a couple pegs every day. Besides, I'm done with him already. A sudden stop interrupts my thoughts as the bus pulls up beside the school. The kids all start piling onto one another like animals bent on escape after being locked in a cage for four days straight. I slip into the crowd of my peers to briskly exit the bus only to wait beside the door just out of view of the ones exiting, waiting for my moment. Jacob winds up being the last one off, however, I do not mind the wait as I am ready to kick his butt. He dismounts the bus stairs. The moment I see him; I pounce on him throwing punches. "What are you doing man get off of me!"

"What's wrong Jacob? Can't show my dad how it's done? Can't hold the standards of your words? You liar! You're the only one here who deserves to be treated like this!" I scream as loud as I can. I swing with all the strength in my body, repeatedly hurling blows to his face until there's a pool of blood surrounding his head. I had cracked his skull on the pavement. His nose breaking over and over as I cease to care even the slightest bit. By the time the cops show up to tear me off Jacob, his breathing is messed up and he's unconscious.

"Boy what do you think you're doing?" The officer turns me to face him. I stare directly into those blue eyes not showing the slightest bit of emotion aside from rage. He sighs as he sees my face. "Jesus Levi, I thought you knew better than to do this again."

"I thought you knew I wasn't safe, but you didn't do a goddam thing now did you. Left me to die taking it "like a man"" I say as I get pushed against the bus, my arms pulled behind my back. The cold, metal of the handcuffs is a familiar feeling on my wrists. Just then, an ambulance appears. The paramedics jump out to begin observing the damage done to Jacob.

"What caused all this then?" They ask in a disgusted tone motioning to all of me then looking back to him.

"None of your business either" I snarl at them as the cop pushes my head down into the car.

"That's enough Levi." He states as he closes the door behind me. I can hear muffled voices with small doses of the conversation through the door switching between normally talking and whispering about me. I finally messed him up good enough to back down for a little while. I'll be back in school by Monday anyway to see how he acts.

"He's his bully... didn't really mean to hurt him... really? I'll take him down...get reports...call his dad-"

"No you won't!" I scream through the door. The cop just taps my window telling me to shut up. I slouch back a bit then daze off looking towards the body on the ground. The lifelessness of the body seems to make me happy, however, I'm not sure why even though he is still alive, it makes me happier thinking he's dead. The cop gets back in the front seat of the car sighing.

"Kid, I can't keep doing this with you. One of these days I will have to call your dad and tell him what's going on. There's not enough proof