Category Archives: abuse

Breaking Point

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We thought she coincidently came into our lives; wishfully hoping for someone to save us from our tragedies. The latter was a huge misinterpretation on our parts for she slithered into our worlds like a snake. When she was done with us she left us completely bewildered and damaged. Never thought I would fraternize with a she-demon, but I have come to realize that life is full of unexpected surprises. It was like we were under some enchantment but I knew better. Never been the one to believe in fairy tales and wasn’t going to start now. Nevertheless, I admit I was submissive to her charm yet still remained skeptical about her.

It was on one September morning that she walked into the offices of Wildon Barks Accounting. I was at the front desk when I noticed through my periphery someone coming towards me with wild curly brown hair. I turned to see and there she was walking towards me with wild curly brown hair with front honey blond highlights. Her skin was of a olive texture and she had an ample sized body. She was wearing a black v-neck top with a straight leg denim.

“Hi, I’m Ericka” she smiled at me. She has a nice smile, I thought. I was stunned by her beauty and envied her for it. I guess that is why I never kept much girl friends around because they were all prettier than me and I don’t like sharing the spotlight.

“I’m Jordan” I smiled back at her. She went on to tell me that she was a new hire and was excited about the opportunity to meet new people. Over the next few months we grew “close”, I used that word lightly. I mean she was nice and all but something in my gut told me she wasn’t right. She never got mad when Becky insulted her; Becky was one of the supervisors on the third floor. Becky was a red head she-devil that would run you over if you didn’t please her every whim. A real character, that Becky. I figured her out the first time I met her. She might be nice to you but that’s all a ruse to extract your secrets and use them against you. She’s a conniving blood sucker and she still hasn’t figured me out. Here and there I spread some insignificant details about my life to keep her at bay but I’m a master at living a perfect lie. I digress.

Ericka never got mad at anything; she was always so calm and happy. How can a person be so happy and stress-free? I wondered many nights in my bed. My problem is that I like to think too much and know too much. Apparently, the solution was to psycho analyze her. I began to study her behavior and habits. You might think I’m just paranoid but I was paranoid for a reason. She was just too good to be true and that is a very dangerous sign. During our time together, I didn’t feel any emotional connection until she opened up to me about an affair she had with three of our co-workers. One of them was Roberto, which Jenny had a crush on. Jenny and Ericka knew each other before she started working there. Ericka knew Jenny liked Roberto but she still went after him. She told me she didn’t do anything but I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t believe it. It was like an episode from a very dramatic scene in Gossip Girl. I wasn’t really shocked by what she did because I knew she wasn’t a “good girl” for lack of a better and nicer term. Foolishly, for some reason I opened up about my traumatic past in high school and that’s when all went to hell. I told her not to tell anyone but she did.

Everyone at work got word of my past by later that evening. They indirectly made comments to me about certain isolated incidents which I disregarded as just coincidences. Truthfully, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence but couldn’t muster up the strength to confront her. I’m not one to express what I feel because I compartmentalize. I keep everything in but that just seeps out into psychotic temper tantrums when I get completely fed up with everything. Summer came along and things really got heated. She started sleeping with Markus, our Assistant Manager. Perhaps it was even before then but I still figured something was going on between them. I suppose she thought I liked him because she would insinuate to the latter and tried to evoke a reaction from me. She would flirt with him and bring him up during conversations, sometimes indirectly. She thought she was clever but that was her mistake; she underestimated me.

Essentially, her perspective of me was that I was poor sad Jordan who couldn’t get a date and had no close friends. I agreed to her consensus that I was an emotional wreck ravaged by years of rejection and pain. Needless to say my emotions stayed out of the matter because I was her temporary pet. Yes, she stroked my ego and filled my head with beautiful nothings but the fantasy never really engulfed me. My skepticism kept reality vivid. I decided to confront her one day while exploring the city. I told her about everything that I knew and what she really was.

“So, you think you know me” she laughed. “What you think you’re so perfect?!” she screamed. It was the first time she ever let her true feelings show and it was an epic sight. I took off her mask. She went on to belittle me and point out all my indiscretions. I let her scream and yell at me. Suddenly, she did something I did not expect. She started to cry and then punched me in the face. We got into a brawl only to be separated by street cops.

In my moment of anger, I printed out the texts she sent me of her affair and sent them to our boss. I told everyone about her affairs. I didn’t want to hurt Jenny, but she had to know that the person she thought was her friend was not a friend at all. Roberto, Clive, and Maurice humiliated her at work for her deceit. They pronounced her as the office whore. Markus broke off the agreement he had with her because she wasn’t worth him losing his job. He advised her that if she tried anything he would destroy her. The damage was already done, she had left him in more distress than he started with; broke and still living with the folks.

Jenny slapped Ericka when we went to work the next day. Our boss, called Ericka into his office later that afternoon, and fired her. I thought that was the last of her but I was wrong. I was home alone one night watching TV when the door bell rang. It had been three months since I got rid of Ericka. I went downstairs to open the door and came to face with the mouth of a Glock-47.

“Everyone has their breaking point” (shots fired).

Malcolm: I’m a serial Killer

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Malcolm: I can’t fathom the purpose for my being. I drift away from people because I’m scared they will not accept me for who I am. I’m not quick to give up my life story. My words are mostly insincere. I won’t let anybody get close to me because I’m bound to disappoint them. I’m tired of being this way. I have no friends. The truth is eating me up inside but I would never give it up. I make up clever stories for the bruises on my body because no one needs to know that I cut and beat myself up when I feel insecure. I got no reason, no shame, no family I can blame for my sorrow. I think I’m a borderline psycho path. I kill neighborhood pets on my free time and I like it. I’ve been doing it since I was nine and haven’t been caught yet. I’m 16 now. At night I dream of my death. I’m guessing lethal injection because one day I will evolve from killing animals to humans. This time I’m writing everything down; I’m giving all my secrets away. The headline reads: Malcolm, the Serial Killer.
I feel like eyes are always on me; as if they know my secrets. They are all fools. I make it seem like a ravenous animal has been terrorizing the neighborhood pets. The smell of death lingers like the burnt holocaust bodies in concentration camps. I close my eyes and envision all the houses on this block burning to the ground with their inhabitants still in them; screaming for their lives but with no escape.
“Malcolm!” a shrilling voice screams. I open my eyes abruptly to the sudden outburst of my foster mother, Martha, yelling out my name. I suppose she wants to beat me some more for letting Spike, our dog, spill wine all over her new white rug. Spike was not allowed in the living room because that was the forbidden room. No one was allowed in there except when we had company. Martha made us play and eat in the den. She didn’t want us to ruin her perfect clean house. She was a petite woman with an Afro of curly red hair. I hated her so much and had wanted to kill her many times. She always took out her frustrations on me and I guess because I was the oldest. I’ve been under her care since I was six years old. I was her first; her first foster child, that is. I keep telling myself that I only have two more years to go and I would be free from her. Free? I suppose not exactly free because the darkness that is inside me will keep me prisoner to an evil I cannot be free from. I know I won’t make it to my 30th birthday because I would have been sentenced to death before then.
Martha screams for me again and so I begrudgingly pull myself out my bed and open my bedroom door.
“What do you want?” I yell down.
“Come down here now!” she yells back at me. I slowly walk down the wood staircase and find her at the bottom looking agitated as always.
“I need you to clean the kitchen. We will be having company. No fuss, just do it!” she ordered me as she walked off to the living room. I walked to the kitchen to find it a complete mess. There was a pile of dirty dishes on both sides of the counter and there were dishes piled high in the sink. Spike had left a trail of poop and urine all over the kitchen floor. The refrigerator was smeared with chocolate hand-prints; works of Nathan, Kevin, Jules, and Brian-the five year old quadruplets that Martha had just taken in. Those little brats were making my life miserable. I had to clean up their mess! I spent three hours cleaning up the kitchen. When I went out to take out the trash that afternoon, I saw a raccoon by the backyard fence. The urge to see the life leave its eyes was too hard to resist. I caught it with no trouble and without hesitation jabbed my pocket knife into its skull. There it lay lifeless and I smiled.
“What are you doing” a sweet little voice asked. My heart skipped a beat. I looked back to see Jules trying to peak at the dead raccoon.
“You killed it” he whispered.
“It was sick, I had too” I replied. I beckoned him to come closer. I grabbed his arm when he was in arms length and harshly whispered in his ear that if he ever told anyone I would cut his throat while he was sleeping.
“Do you understand?” I asked him. He nodded yes with eyes wide.

The Perfect Happy Family: Chapter 3

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PHF: Chapter 3

I came around a while later to James splashing my face with water from a spritz bottle. My eyes were blurry and I felt like I had a really bad hangover. “Why does my head hurt so much?” I asked wearily. Somehow I had blocked all sounds because James had been screaming at me the whole time.

“Are you okay?!” James yelled at me.

“Whoa! Not so loud, dude” I responded feverishly.

“I slapped your face a couple of times but you wouldn’t wake up. I was about to call mom and dad….” James’ voiced trailed off.  So that’s why my head hurt so much, I thought to myself. Why hadn’t I woken up? A slap to the face would surely wake me up but James said he hit me a couple of times.

“So, I didn’t move or anything when you hit me?” I asked James

“No, it was weird. You lay there like a dead body.” He responded with a concern look on his face.

“Well I’m not dead, see!” I joked even though I was actually perplexed by what had happened.

“Did you eat?” James asked.

“Uh, yeah” I lied.

“So what were we talking about before I fainted?” I asked.

“I told you I was planning to marry Mark” James said with a smile on his face.

“You can’t marry him. You can’t.” I hissed.

“I thought you’d be happy for me! I guess I was wrong.” James murmured.

“You really think this is a good plan? You know what they’ll do to you at school?” I screamed. Suddenly, my bedroom door drew open and mother rushed in with a scowl.

“Shut up and go to bed!” she shushed at us. She then turned and walked back to her bedroom. We waited until we heard her close her door. James got up and headed towards the door also. I grabbed his arm.

“You can’t tell anybody about this. We’ll be ruined. You’ll be ruined.” I whispered in a harsh tone.  He just looked at me then shook away from my grip. I watched him as he walked to his bedroom to the other side of the house. No one could ever know that my brother is a gay, I thought. We would be the laugh of the town if anyone ever found out. Oh, the tragedy.  So there and then I made it my mission to be my family’s keeper. My mother is an adultery, my father is a cross dresser, and my brother is a gay. It was all too much for one day and I threw myself on my bed without changing into my pajamas. I hold my family’s secrets like the government keeps theirs. It was two in the morning by the time I feel asleep but I didn’t sleep for long. I had to wake up early for school three hours later. It was a typical Monroe morning. Father was already at the clinic, mother was exercising downstairs in our top of the art gym, and Clarisse had already made breakfast for me and James.

“James is not going to school today” Clarisse said as I walked into the kitchen.

‘What’d you mean?” I responded. “He was fine last night.”

“Well he told me he won’t be going to school today” Clarisse retorted in an annoyed tone. I retracted back up our marble steps as fast as I could to James’ room. I didn’t even knock-I just burst in.

“Yeah, see you later” I caught him saying to his phone before he hung up.

“Knock much?!” he yelled at me.

“No, you know me. Miss no manners” I mocked. “Why aren’t you going to school?”

“I’m sick.” He said with a facetious cough.

“Loser” I said as I walked out of his bedroom and made my way back to the kitchen. When I got back to the kitchen Clarisse was jumping up and down with giddiness.

“I got good gossip!” she yelled.

“What?” I ran to her with intrigue.

“Miss Sahib found panties not hers under her bed. She’s angry with Mr. Quinn!” Clarisse gushed. My heart stopped. Those were mother’s panties.

“So, is she kicking him out?” I asked Clarisse.

“I heard she wants to know the woman’s name so she could kill her” Clarisse exclaimed. Clarisse was all about the drama and neighborhood gossip. She never revealed her sources; she was smart like that. A few seconds later the door bell rang. I went to get the door but stopped in my tracks in horror when I saw that it was Sane Sahib. Did she know? It would be an insult to injury in Sahib’s case because she was one of mother’s closest friends. I regained my posture and attained all the courage I could muster as I opened the door.

“Hi” I said with a shaky voice. Sane just looked at me through her dark brown eyes. She was crying. Her usually flawless golden brown hair lay messy around her shoulders. She was a complete mess in her ripped blue jeans and stained white t-shirt.

“Is your mother home?” she sobbed.

“Uh….” I murmured but was interrupted by mother.

“Hey, oh honey, come in” mother gestured at Sane to come in. “What’s wrong?”

“Quinn cheated on me and won’t tell me with whom!” Sane screamed.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that” mother said to Sane while comforting her. I looked at mother in disgust.

“Don’t you need to be off to school?” mother asked me.

“Yes, of course!” I replied and ran to get my book bag. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. My mother was sleeping with her friend’s husband and didn’t show any remorse. How could she be so vile? I wondered.  As I walked out my house I saw Mr. Quinn heading towards me.

“You have some nerve” I hissed at him.

“Me. What about your mother?” he asked seeming appalled. “What about your father?”

“What you mean my father?” I asked.

“I know your father’s secret” Quinn smirked at me. “Your father is a cross-dresser” he laughed.

“You wouldn’t dare” I threatened.

“Or would I? Don’t test me child.” He retorted. I then knew I had to get rid of him.

“What do you want?” I asked

“Let’s just say you keep your secret and I’ll keep mine” he responded. There was no way I was going to trust him with such a huge secret. I had to get rid of him one way or another; even if it meant taking drastic measures. He had to disappear. He had to die because no one is suppose to know but me. No one can ever find out the truth about my family.

Secrets

Posted in abuse, Books, Creative writing, drama, family, Fiction, Literature, Love, Money, scary, short stories, tragedy, wealth, words, Writer, Writing by

Secrets

        This is the story of three high school students that keep terrible secrets. First is a junior named Malcolm, a loner and foster child that is a serial killer in the making.  Second is a sophomore named Stacy, which is envious of her mother so she starts having an affair with her mother’s husband.  Third, is a senior named Patrick who hates his father and plans to kill him to take over the family business so that he could inherit 100 billion dollars and marry his father’s girlfriend.

            Malcolm: I can’t fathom the purpose for my being. I stray away from people because I’m scared they will not accept me for who I am. I’m not quick to give up my life story. My words are mostly insincere. I won’t let anybody get close to me because I’m bound to disappoint them. I’m tired of being this way. I have no friends. The truth is eating me up inside but I would never give it up. I make up clever stories for the bruises on my body because no one needs to know that I cut and beat myself up when I feel insecure. I got no reason, no shame, no family I can blame for my sorrow.  I think I’m a borderline psycho path. I kill neighborhood pets on my free time and I like it. I’ve been doing it since I was nine and haven’t been caught yet. I’m 16 now.  At night I dream of my death. I’m guessing lethal injection because one day I will evolve from killing animals to humans. This time I’m writing everything down; I’m giving all my secrets away. The headline reads: Malcolm, the Serial Killer.

            Stacy: My mother has had many husbands. She goes through them like water. After she’s taken all their money she moves on to another one. She chases a dream for her two daughters to live the enchanted life.  Mother always got what she wanted. Everyone praises her for her beauty. I hate her. She cheated on my father and left him with nothing. She moved us away from him and won’t allow him to see us. She’s had 8 husbands and so many boyfriends that I’ve lost count. We, meaning my sister, Ashley and I get ridiculed at school because everyone knows our mother is a gold digging whore. When I turned 15 she introduced us to her new boyfriend, Matthew. She had been only dating him for three months and he was already moving in with us. He was 25 years old while mother was celebrating her 40th birthday. I was fed up with her. I started sleeping with Matt a couple of months after he moved in. I wanted to hurt my mother and teach her a lesson. She needs to feel pain like no other.

Patrick: Father thinks he can do whatever he wants. I’m about to prove him wrong. He thinks he can have a 21 year old girlfriend just because he’s a corporate tycoon. He left mother when I was 12 years old. He didn’t give her a dime. She killed herself that night he told her he was leaving her for a 21 year old. At first, he didn’t want to take care of me; he wanted to ship me off to Russia to live with his mother. His mother made him take responsibility for his actions so he got stuck with me. I started sleeping with his 21 year old girlfriend, Nostalgia, when I was 15. He didn’t treat her well. He cheated on her with strippers and other loose women he encountered on his “business trips.” He would also beat her when he got drunk or when she disagreed with him. The economy downturn hit him hard since he’s an investment banker/broker. He owns his own investment firm and other reality establishments. Everyone at school thinks I’m this happy rich kid but I’m about to give all my secrets away. I plan to kill my father so that I can inherit the family business, a 100 billion dollar inheritance, and marry Nostalgia. The blueprint has already been made; it’s fool proof.