Undesirable

I watched her toss back a pill and chug down the water only to collapse onto the floor moments later. I wasn’t alarmed or even scared. It happened too often for me to be alarmed anymore. It’s been like this for a long time. We’ve been like this for a long time, just me and what’s left of my mother. I don’t know who my dad is and I don’t want to either. I’ve seen him in pictures with mother, but that was long before I was born. They were both so young and naive, unaware of the “real world”. She looked happy and full of life, so different from the person currently sprawled out on the kitchen floor. She wasn’t always like this. We were doing fairly well until I turned six. Then she met Leny.

He was filth. A short ferret-like man with bulging, greedy eyes. He reeked of cigarettes, STDs, drugs, and all kinds of other filth. I don’t understand why she even brought him into our house. She’d had plenty of boyfriends before. I can’t actually remember a time when she didn’t have a boyfriend. My earliest memories contain images of her and men. It took me a long time to realize that she needed them. They bought our food, they took us places, they even bought our clothes. Our survival, in my mother’s eyes, relied on them providing for us. I hated how much she depended on these men, but they were all “good” to her, if you could call it that.

With Leny it was a completely different story. He introduced her to the lifestyle that would one day kill her. Persuaded her that nothing she was doing was wrong. That snorting cocaine from our sink while I watched was okay. That leaving random bottles full of colorful piles all over the house was normal. That having alcohol as a substitute for water was good. That leaving used needles in the bathroom wasn’t wrong. He took her down the path that would change both our lives forever.

It started with drugs and parties that involved her leaving the house at odd times of the night, but then she would leave for days on end. I always knew when she came home, for she had the smell, the smell of filth. I was so confused when I was little. I didn’t know what I had done to make her want to leave me alone for so long.

It didn’t matter. Not that I ever mattered anyway.

Leny left soon after she got hooked. The coward didn’t even have the guts to see what he had done to an already unstable woman and her child.

After he left she would bring a new guy home every day, and with every guy it seemed that she got worse and worse. The men never acknowledged me or even paid attention to my existence. They were there to get one thing, and after they got it, they would leave. All the men that walked through the door came for a different reason but they all left like the previous one. No one ever stayed, or blinked an eye at the mess they walked away from. No one ever cared or even tried to help us. I guess they were too messed up themselves to do anything about it. That was until Craig. He seemed like a decent guy. Average height, fair build, not the most attractive, hands calloused from manual labor, but a friendly smile. He wasn’t one of her ‘clients’ or a dealer. It appeared she had a new boyfriend, and I started to get hope once again. Unfortunately for me, hope was something that was short-lived.

Once he knew that he was under her skin, knew she wouldn’t leave him, he started to show his true color. Red. The color of rage. He would abuse her. In the beginning, it wasn’t too bad, but then it became terrible. I remember laying in bed listening to her crying and screaming as he beat her up. It became a daily routine. I didn’t know why she didn’t leave him. Why did she need him so much! One night it got so bad she was hospitalized. She had several broken ribs, a broken leg, fractured arms, and a concision. When they asked what happened to her, she told them she was mugged! I remember wishing for her death. If she did then we would both be free. I hated myself for it but I couldn’t stand to see her like this.

Soon after the incident Craig realized that he couldn’t take it all out my mother without raising suspicion or killing her, so he decided to take it out on me. It started of with just a couple hits and bruises but then he became far more violent. I had several bruises and a damaged face almost on a daily basis. It became so bad that people actually started wondering what was happening.

I told my teacher about it once. She told me to ‘hang in there’ and that she would do ‘everything I possibly can to help you’. The authorities showed up the next day. They said that they were going to start an investigation of sorts because they had received a call alerting them that there was a possible case of child abuse. For the first few days of the investigation, it seemed that I would actually make it out here. Be free to go to a nice warm home, but one night, mom and the leading officer went up to her room to have a serious talk. My room was right next to hers and from the noises I heard, it wasn’t a talk they were having. See mom

was incredibly persuasive when it came to serious talks. I didn’t think it was possible for men to deny her after she talked with them.

Later that night when I heard a door squeak open and a large shadow enter my doorway, I felt my dreams of happiness disappear. I remained silent, hoping that the person would leave me in peace. That they would have the courage to do what was right, but like I said, hoping never ended well for me. It was then that I heard the dreadful words.” I’m so sorry kid”. It was the leading officer and I knew all to well what that meant.

The next day the leading officer took all of us down to the station for individual questioning. When we all came out I was told the horrible news. I was to go back to the place they called “home”. Mom had told the authorities that I had problems. She said that I would sneak out at night, said I would abuse myself, said I was into drugs, she said I was delusional and everyone believed her. The police had decided that I was the liar. All the people they had asked said that there had never been any signs of abuse to them. The “family friends” they had questioned had all been Craig’s, the teachers all knew Craig and my family consisted of my mother. No one was on my side. I would never make the mistake of telling someone ever again. The abuse I went through that night, vanquished any hope I ever had.

Soon I was known as a nut case. I thought people would believe me over my mom and Craig, but they didn’t. I was friendless, hopeless, and completely alone.

This all happened when I was 13. A couple years later Craig was arrested for the rape and murder of a 17 year old girl. He was trailed and sentenced to spend the rest of his miserable life in prison. My mother was devastated. She sank further in the hole she created for herself all those years ago. She blamed me for it. She accused me of making her life a misery. She told me that had I not existed, none of this would have ever happened. Mother always told me that if there was a God, he had told the devil himself to create me and send me to her. She tortured herself about Craig for years. I didn’t think she would ever get over him.

Eventually, she was able to go back to partying, but this time she would disappear for weeks on end before showing up completely wasted. After a day of recovery, where she would lie passed out in a puddle of her own puke, she would leave again. A few weeks later she would show up again. This was my life. A screw up person, with a screw up mom in a screw up home. I often thought about suicide. At least I would be away from the hell that I was in.

It was so appealing, the thought of ending it all, the thought of an eternity of serene darkness, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, when it came down to it, I could not do it. There was this voice. A voice that rang from the depths of my soul telling me to hang on.