Wishing For Death: 1

Understand me. I wished him dead. I did have half a mind to kill him once, with a cast iron skillet, caught up in the white-hot frenzy. I was fourteen years old, and convinced I was prepared to murder the man choking my mother in the kitchen while a beef roast baked in the oven. He’d caught my arm reaching into the bottom cupboard and slammed the door on me repeatedly until I fell back on my ass and slinked away, screaming.

Screaming.

I was always screaming for Ken to stop hitting my mother; to stop tugging on my sister; to stop frightening us; to leave us alone, and go off someplace to fucking die. The motherfucker was a habitual drunk driver. Why didn’t he ever crash into the trees? Or swerve off a bridge? Never once have I felt a pang of guilt for wishing–praying for liberation to come in the form of this man’s well-deserved death.

During the years my mother and Ken were together, I suffered through my first crisis of faith; and I mean faith in the universal sense. My father failed to save me and Tara. My mother failed to save us all. And what’s fucked up is at the time, I thought I was failing.

I often wished I’d wake up dead, being that Ken was indestructible. And I berated myself for being too cowardice to follow through with any of the suicide plans I had concocted in the night. But then I’d see my little sister, defenseless, and I knew I’d be a coward* to leave her alone; if I didn’t want to live for myself, I had to live for her.

*Suicide is not about cowardice. It is about pain, and the desperation to be relieved of that pain. To say I would have been a coward to take my life is what I needed to tell myself to be strong and fight for my life. I mean no disrespect.

_______

Tomorrow Wendy was part of the soundtrack of my teendumb.

38 Comments

  1. As a not-predominately-a-writer, I never feel fully qualified to comment on writing that I consider to be intellectually above me.

    BUT. In this case, I just want to say that your fucking powerful words and amazingly fucking powerful imagery is stellar and I love you. and shit. x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That is SO weird! Bloodletting – the Concrete Blonde album that song is from, is one of my favourite records!
    Knowing us, however, all we share in common, I’m not surprised.
    Another darkly powerful peice on your childhood Lovely X

    Liked by 1 person

  3. There is no solace or counsel anyone could offer that would surpass your own fortitude. There is such darkness in the world, and humbly, we all must admit it is people like you we depend on to shield us from it. Those who would put themselves between the darkness and the innocent. It is a damned existence, a thankless slaughter of spirit. But the service you’ve given, in personal sacrifice, in spite of evil, will only strengthen the resolve of others.

    Hold fast. There are still people you could inspire.

    Liked by 1 person

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