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Inside the Mind of a Bastard Child

Author's note: I want to write this to free others to tell their stories and to encourage them that they are not...  Show full author's note »
Author's note: I want to write this to free others to tell their stories and to encourage them that they are not on this earth alone and destitute. No matter what hand you are dealt in this life you can make it if you really want. Even when you feel you have failed or feel like you are stuck in one place, useless, alone, untalented, unqualified for success, undeserving of love or any other label you can slap on yourself you are nothing short of perfectly designed. Each and every person has a story to share and if we all shared ours we would break down the walls that isolate us in our pain and see that maybe this world was created to be more then a holding cell imprisoning us into a life of meaninglessness.  « Hide author's note
Chapters:   « Previous 1 ... 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Next »

Early Beginnings

My Father is 6`3
His skin is tanned seeing as he was bred Mexican Indian
He is strong
He is built
His shoulders broad
His eyes a golden brown that change with his mood
Bushy black eyebrows arch spontaneously upward above his tired glare
His hands are calloused, made for putting up buildings, tearing down walls, roofing and painting 12 hours a day, working the land, feeding the farm animals, chopping wood, and so much more
His skin looks worn like 50 some years of work, but handsome still to much younger eyes
His teeth are perfectly straight... but a careful inspection shows he wears dentures
Years of drinking and drugs have worn his real ones away
He has multiple tattoos
The middle finger is in the center of his chest in a mold like color
This particular one he says declares his philosophy
My father is bald
I would assume if he had hair it would be a black color but as far as I know no one has seen it in many years
He is thin but not weak
Women have always loved his laugh and his mystery
He has a quick wit and an artistic hand
He is stubborn and aggressive but slip him some drinks and he'll bawl like a baby
I don't really know much about him
He tells me about the women he's had in his life
The different children and his multiple list of wives
He talks about the guys he has killed
The pain and misery he has seen
He talks about how his father beat him
How his one sister died and the other ran off with a black man
His brother's in Texas
He claims he is good at math
He loves oldies and met Kiss
It's all a very confusing mess
He smokes like a fiend
Swears like crazy
And drinks coffee that stains his mustache
He hates being called Father, but loves being Dad, or Dada
My head spins to explain him but this is the best of my ability
Maybe someday he will share the rest

Standing in a metal diner (the feelings are strong)
The picture is fuzzy even know
But the feelings remain strong
And a whole lot of shame

Everyone is staring
Why are they staring?
What are we doing wrong?

My father stumbles around the room
He is yelling, laughing, and gesturing as he speaks
I have seen him this way before... but why doesn't it feel the same?

“Always leave a tip!”
“Bring me pancakes! Bring the f-ing pancakes, now!”
“Oh, sweet girls of mine do you know your mother loves pancakes?”

My who loves pancakes? I think as I watch
Oh right.... My mother!
She's coming today!
Supposedly, I'll like her, she is apparently mighty nice

The waitress seems angry
The room seems to spin
My sister and I trail out the door behind him, to go bags in hand
We hop in the car and settle in for home
In my head I wonder why we did not stay
We never ate a thing...
We ordered at the table but we left before it came

Swearing coming from the wheel
“Don't you dare tell them I was drinking!!”
“You hear me? I was not drinking!”

I look down and see the bottle rolling
The liquid clear
The label reading Vodka
I slid my foot down and kick it
Under the drivers seat it rolls

As the police man walks to the car it clicks
This, this drink makes him act this way
It's a secret
Something meant for others not to know
What he does others mustn't...
I feel ashamed
I question whether my mother knows?
And how long he will be away....

Who is this man?
Isn't that my mother?
Shouldn't she be with my dad?
They are lying in a sleeping bag....
Smoke fills the room
I am standing in the door watching them laugh
Glasses sit on the table
She gets up to give me a hug

“Hey baby girl.”
“I am your mother.”
My dad steps past me pancakes in hand
He kisses my mother
Shakes the man's hand

This feels very wrong....
Rachael stands beside me hand in my hand
We walk to our room

What a year of discovery
My young age can hardly handle it
My mother's not Wonder Woman
She is barely a decent lady

She smokes a great smelling plant
She smokes awful cigarettes
She drinks that nasty clear liquid
She yells a great deal

My mother won't stay at the house
She stays across the street
She watches me sometimes, unless she is dead asleep
Her boyfriend is kind of scary and she makes my dad rather angry
I am not sure she likes me and Rachael but what can I do?

She hits with great force
Loudness drives her crazy
She will slash a cut into your back with a belt if she pleases
Her words are foul and her temper worse

That boy is yicky yicky yicky
He wants to kiss me
I know he still wets the bed
I know he likes to take his pants off and show himself
I will not be kissed by that thing
I think I will climb this tree
Up high where he and no one else can reach
My favorite place to be
He is scared of the trees
Crap I am stuck
I can't get down
Hot liquid runs down my face
There stands the boy
There parked is the fire truck
A ladder and a man help me down
This is a mortifying day

This bed is giant and fluffy
Rachael is lying next to me
I can't recall what was so funny but it must have been something

I can hear the footsteps coming down the hall
Each foot like lead on the carpeted floor
I sense the handle turning as my mother bursts through the door

“I told you to shut the ==== up!!
And it's true she had several times indeed
But everything was just so funny

I notice the flash of metal as she flies across the room
She rips back the covers and yanks at our arms
Once we are out of the bed she leans us over the side
“This is for all the noise!”

Every move of her arm brings down the belt
Once across my back, once across Rachael's
Every hit the pain intensify and every cry multiplies
I can feel the sting in my once laughing eyes
As the welts rise my spirit becomes frail
And as I tired to sleep that night I could feel the heat sinking into my sheets

It is so cold
My teeth are chattering
My tears are streaking my face with ice
Rachael looked deeply disappointed
Her little body shivering against the wind

Why is no one here?
The sky is growing gray
Night is slowly approaching
We have been here since school let out

The snow is to my upper thigh and more is pouring down
Mother should have been here
Father should have picked up

The office is closed
My feet are soaking
I hate this day
I hate my existence

I feel the last bits of hope in me slipping away
I hear the roar of the evening snow plow rolling down the road
I look up when the noise stops
There sits my dad's boss on top of the plow

His eyes flash with a look of annoyance
He asks what we are doing
Rachael responds in the weakest of voices
He informs us that he will give us a ride home

Where are you going?
Mother hugs us and walks away
I study the brick building
The glass doors in the front have a look of importance

We stand there and wait
I am not sure what we are waiting for
I kick a stone and let my mind wonder to play
After awhile a lady in a suit takes my hand in hers
She offers her other hand to Rach

We wait for what seems like forever in this tiny waiting room
The lady comes back her heels tapping the carpet
She puts us in a car and we drive away from the building
I have no idea where we are going
I watch the trees pass by and the roads turn
The sun is fading as we pull into a drive way

We enter the house and this women starts talking about us living here
The mother of the house shows us our room
We will share with her oldest daughter, her in her own bed, us on bunk beds
Why are we here?

Part two

The boy in this house is mean
He goes around yelling, throwing things, and taking Rach's ladder away so she's stuck
The girl likes me to sleep in her bed
She tells me there are spirits in the room and she's scared
I am glad we weren't there long
Months perhaps but not too many
I honestly remember very little
My dad has us back again!

My dad's boss had helped get us back
Mom said she feared for us
Dad was unsafe
She was unfit

Where is my Barbie doll?
It came from my mom
It's pretty and perfect
My favorite gift
I can't find it anywhere

Mom where is my doll?
You gave it away!
To who?
The neighbor girl?

For so much trouble I had some normal days
I went to the carnival like other kids
I road the faris-wheel while crying
Found out spin rooms weren't for me
And fell in love with the swings

My dad made homemade bread and pie
I was allowed to play with the neighbor kids
I watched my father dance around the room like a loon
I saw my mother laugh
I even heard her sing

I crashed on bikes
Got stuck in trees
Played socially inappropriate games
Loved my toys and holidays

I collected bugs
Had pet snakes
A raccoon
Hamsters and a skunk
To just to name a few

I could fly kites
I played jump rope
I even had a see-saw in my yard for awhile

Yes, I had normal days of childhood play
I played on the jungle gym
I enjoyed hide-n-seek and mother may I
I swam and broke bones

However even in these normal days the truth of things was unsettling
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