Look right through me...

"And while you struggle with your pain, your worthlessness, and guilt, he sleeps, " he nodded towards their bedroom and snorted disgustingly. "I, honestly, don't see how you can allow yourself to suffer such injustice. All day you slave away in this home. Cook, clean, raise the boy. And to be treated this way. Unanswered prayers. Unsympathetic partner. I bet you feel rather lonely?" his eyes flashed. Everything he said always made sense yet it felt wrong. He touched her cheeks with his fingers and kissed her forehead, smiling down at her. And then he slapped her across the right side of her face and sent her flying across the floor. "You should stop crying. You should stop taking the blame for all the lost little lives. How do you know it's not his fault? All your testing and still nothing conclusive. You're being poked, prodded. You've stood naked in front of countless nurses, assistants, doctors. Taken hormones. And him? What is his part?" he held out a hand for her as she sat up, broken and swimming in self-loathing. "My pet, you are so weak. I have to strengthen you somehow. This is not your fault. This is his fault. He's driven you to do this. Look at you. Pathetic. Outrageously inadequate."

With that she buried her head in her arms and wept. Leave me alone, she cried in her mind. She felt the self-pity, the sadness weigh her down and she felt she couldn't even stand at this point. He came and knelt down beside her, stroking her hair with that smirk still plastered on his handsome, beautiful face. A face of an angel but there was an iciness behind his eyes and anger set in the lines around his mouth and eyes. Those empty orbs of blue drank up the sight of her writhing in pain on the floor. He flung her onto her feet and dragged her to the mirror, half-smiling now.

"This life...it's so sad, my pet. Why not just end it?" he stood behind her, watching her stare at her reflection. She wept at herself. Wept at the lack of control then began sobbing because of the hold he had on her. Her mind was swimming, inebriated, confused. Was he real? Was she dreaming? Was this the alcohol? Was she crazy? And then his words sank in and she cried out even more. She wanted to die. She wanted an end. No one would care. No one would miss her. Her boy would be taken care of by everyone else more capable, less unstable. Her hands came to her face; her reflection stood staring blankly, scaring her with those eyes; they were large and vacant. Void of emotion except a swirling, whirling darkness that emitted guilt and fear. And involuntarily, it seemed, she reached for the medicine cabinet. Opened it without a second thought and a brown bottle appeared in her hands. Vicodin 500mg. She poured it onto the counter. Ten. She fell on her knees and cried helplessly once again. He still stood behind her now with a look of exasperation. He knelt and pulled her head up by a handful of dark, untamed hair.

"They don't need you, pet. You have no use here. Release yourself of this pain. Your life is of no worth, baby killer. What more can you do for them? Look at you. An alcoholic, on the edge of madness. You do them all a great favor. They will live pleasant, happy lives without you," and she listened, feeling he was right. A few sobs escaped her as she thought of her son; could she leave him? Was it best for him? Would he wonder about her? She turned to the pills and fingered each, tears shedding slowly. She picked up three, stared at them in her palm. With her free hand, she turned on the faucet and became resolute. He chuckled delightfully as she popped the three in her mouth and filled her mouth with water and swallowed. And she giggled because she finally did it. She glanced at him in the mirror then turned to face him. Take them all, he commanded without every saying a word. She picked up two more and swallowed without any water. He laughed and his laughter was hollow and eerie. He took her hand and spun her around and around. With each spin, she felt sicker and sicker. She watched her reflection as she spun. Her reflection still stood, staring from the mirror with that blank gaze. She saw the blackness swirling faster and faster in her brown eyes. And she fell with a scary suddenness and hit her head on the wall as she fell backwards with a loud thud. And she felt herself hurl. She turned over on her side and began crying again. Her crying accompanied by desperate pleas. We want this! No, we don't! I need help, please!!!

*****************

He felt her warmth disappear. He stirred in bed not wanting to wake but knowing perhaps he should this time. She had been especially distant today. Well, this whole week actually, and he had found her secret stash a few days ago. He hadn't know what to do; didn't know how to approach her. He knew and felt that she was drowning but being who he was, he just couldn't understand how she could let herself get so down and sad. The sadness that was consuming her was slowly slithering its way into his heart.

Everybody fooled

She plopped onto the bed, not caring if it would wake him. She was jealous that he could sleep so soundly...so well while her mind was a wreck, preventing her to go to sleep. Sometimes she felt like smacking him just to wake him. To be spiteful. How evil!?! She laid down and slipped under the covers. He rolled over and sat up, blurry eyed, asking her if she was okay. She whispered an answer and turned over. He pulled her to him and curled his body around her, holding her tightly. And the rum worked it's magic, lulling her mind to sleep. She closed her eyes and for a while there were no dreams; no demons; no anxiety. Just quiet slumber. For a while, she rested in his big arms and let herself go. Just for a moment, she felt safe in the harbor of his arms, encircling her, wrapping her in an intoxicated cocoon. And her mind floated in a blank trance as the alcohol lifted her away from herself. Her muscles relaxed; her head drooped in the warm little nook in his elbow and her breathing became loose and even. And then just as the false peace rested over her, a panic arose from nowhere. And the demons laughed at her and came baring down in her mind. The helplessness engulfed her; her heart burst with pain and hurt. She snapped out of her sleep and a cry escaped. She hated this. She slipped out of bed, walking towards the bathroom, looking back at her slumbering husband. Beads of sweat trickled down her back, sending a cold, icy shiver up her spine. She reached for the only thing that was calming her nerves these days not realizing it was the very thing trapping her and opening the gateways to worlds full of regret, depression, and fear. But she drank and swigged until all the supposed pain was numb again. And she sank to the bathroom floor, tears flowing, knowing the monster would come anyway. She waited, rocking and crying. And there he was, standing in front of her with those green eyes and smirk. Sleek blonde hair and white, tailored suit. Long, thin legs, but no feet. He just floated around. He looked down on her, grunting haughtily.

"Another sleepless night?" his voice oozed with sweetness, bright yet dark and ominous. She kept her eyes down; those eyes when she beheld them were piercing and left her feeling exposed and utterly and devastatingly vulnerable. "Tsk, tsk my pet. Surely your God would show mercy on you by now? All your weeping. All your praying, yet you are here still shedding those tears, losing control of your life...where is your salvation?" he picked her chin up and bore into what she felt like was her soul. Her tears froze all the while on the inside she was fighting against it all. She thought of her husband sleeping always leaving her alone to fight these things.

"And while you struggle with your pain, your worthlessness, and guilt, he sleeps, " he nodded towards their bedroom and snorted disgustingly. "I, honestly, don't see how you can allow yourself to suffer such injustice. All day you slave away in this home. Cook, clean, raise the boy. And to be treated this way. Unanswered prayers. Unsympathetic partner. I bet you feel rather lonely?" his eyes flashed. Everything he said always made sense yet it felt wrong. He touched her cheeks with his fingers and kissed her forehead, smiling down at her. And then he slapped her across the right side of her face and sent her flying across the floor. "You should stop crying. You should stop taking the blame for all the lost little lives. How do you know it's not his fault? All your testing and still nothing conclusive. You're being poked, prodded. You've stood naked in front of countless nurses, assistants, doctors. Taken hormones. And him? What is his part?" he held out a hand for her as she sat up, broken and swimming in self-loathing. "My pet, you are so weak. I have to strengthen you somehow. This is not your fault. This is his fault. He's driven you to do this. Look at you. Pathetic. Outrageously inadequate."

With that she buried her head in her arms and wept. Leave me alone, she cried in her mind.

Big sister, little brother

I miss him. I mean, who doesn't, right? Lately though, he's been on my mind. I don't know the personal pains of everyone else who knew him. But I know my pain and how incredibly immense the hurt and guilt was. However, even though it still hurts just as much to think of him these days, I'm learning to remember good times and good things. Dallace was, I think, the quirkiest, funniest, and most intelligent out of all of us. If we were scared to be the first to do something new, he was NOT. And would always be the first to take on a new challenge. Even though he had that quiet, stern aura about him, he could crack a joke like no other and the faces that came with those jokes were one of a kind. He had his own sense of style, never one to wear what anyone else thought was cool. He was intense and a perfectionist. Honestly, I think all my siblings are perfectionists except me. Dallace was deep. I will always remember our talks and how after talking to him, I always felt a little more aware of myself and why I did things the way I did them. I think Dallace is the only person in my family who ever probed into my deepest thoughts---like my really deep thoughts....I mean DEEP DEEP DEEP thoughts. I remember one conversation how he got me to open up to him, crying my heart and soul out, and leaving that conversation refreshed, assured, and grateful he could still think of me as his big sister rather than the blundering fool I was. Dallace was the best big brother. As the oldest boy in the family, he was awesome! The reason I say this is he cultivated a very deep and meaningful bond with each of us. He was best friends with Jordan. He took care of Margaret and doted on his little sister like a big brother should. And he was super protective of Freddy and was always ready to Freddy's mentor. He made sure he knew each of us as personally as he could. For me, Dallace knew me as the irrational, all too emotional person that I am. He knew I could be such a cry baby. But he never made me feel guilty for my tears or viewed me as weak because I cried a lot. He used to tell me the reason I would cry so much was because I had too much empathy. And he would say, "The reason you cry too much is because God gave you too big a heart for a tiny body..." And then would make fun of me and poke me and make horrendous crying noises and faces. Everything Dallace did, he tried his best and most hardest to get it done right and get it done right on the first try. He soaked up knowledge. He could learn anything and everything in one instant moment. He was just so smart; it was crazy powerful how intelligent he was. To me, he was a genius. And I always went to him with questions on homework...I think all of us did. He was gifted. Dallace---I love you so much. I miss you. I think of you. Sending my love and my hopes and prayers your way. Happy Birthday, sweetie.