To understand me, you need to understand what I have been through. To even try to comprehend what and who I am, you need to walk in my shoes. But beware, I'm going to take you places no one wants to go.
So I'll start from the beginning.
My name is Bex Denny Sullivan. I'll skip the boring years and jump straight to the day I knew I my life would change forever. Never had a father. Only thing I know, he was a piece of sh*t. After I was born, he kidnapped me from the hospital because he didn't want to pay child support. Hello dumb f***, raising a child cost a lot more then a couple hundred a month. Mom got me back and that is all that I know. After the sh*t I went through, makes me wonder what It would have been like with him instead. Sh*tty thing to think with a creep like that, right?
Wanna know why I thought that? You sure? Okay well, i'll tell ya. I was ten years of age, a f***ing kid. Following after my mommy dearest, until one day, it all changed. She came home pinned, she was completely off her face. I didn't know then, but I knew something was wrong. What child knows their mom is pumping dope in their veins? They had been wrong for a few weeks now. Blitzed I tell ya, coming home to her child. No dinner. Hell, now that I think of it, there wasn't dinner for days counting up to this. I didn't understand what was going on at this point. She didn't introduce me to drugs or bad things at this time.....yet. She always tried to protect me, tell me not to talk to strangers and run. She seemed like she loved me.
Mommy dearest wobbled to the couch, flicked the television on with a click of a button. “Mommy” I called out to her as I walked over to the couch. I sat down near her, thinking she was just tired. I know work was hard for her, especially since it was just me and her. I was just a kid but I was smart. I knew it was a struggle. She was nodding off and on, head drooping like she was falling asleep sitting up. She had never done that before. As she nodded, the ciggy in her hand started to tilt over, the cherry burning down as the ash towered up. She had been a little hostile to me for a while before this day, not really loving, or tucking me in at night. I chalked it up, it was hard being a single mom.
As the ciggy began to fall, I stood up reaching for it, trying to catch it before it set something on fire. She gripped the butt and stuck it straight into the palm in my hand. Mommy burned my hand thoughtlessly. The pain hadn't registered in as I looked into her deep blue eyes. Just like mine. They say you can see someones soul in their eyes. This is the day I knew that cliche was true, because I saw hers. Her eyes didn't plea apologetically, sorrow , or concern. It was as if she liked it. Instead of crying out in pain, I gritted my teeth, holding the palm of my hand. I was a smart kid, I wasn't going to show her I was weak, but I still needed my mommy.
After a moment, her eyes rolled back and her head fell to the side. She didn't get up and help me, say sorry or tend to my wounds. She inflicted me with pain, physically and emotionally. So I sucked it up, went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up, even though we didn't have the proper care. We didn't have much lately. We used to have everything we needed, but now it seemed it wasn't important anymore. To this day, I don't know if it were accidental or purposely done, but I do know one thing, this was the day that I lost my mom. I do know that whether or not it was on purpose, she liked it. It was as if she had a taste of blood. It was a wolf with the first taste of blood, craving more, needing to tear into something. Blood lust filled her. I didn't realize then, but I was just a dumping ground for her pain. What ever she went through a few weeks prior to this, it changed her.
Within a weeks time, she went from my mother to the horrific creature that went bump in the night, that monster that lurked in the darkness. I wasn't her daughter anymore. No. In her eyes, I was just nothing more then a pesky leach who needed her, who instead of loving or even given to someone who would love me, I became her sickest pleasure, one who she inflicted physical pain, to sooth her emotional turmoil. She was too selfish to give me up, why? If she didn't love me anymore, why not let someone else love me? Don't give me wrong, it would have hurt for her to give me up to someone else, but there had to be someone in this world who wanted me. But it hurt more knowing that my mom was no longer there, knowing she enjoyed starving me, burning me with her ciggies, punching me and kicking me in places with no one else could see. The Irony, huh? She couldn't even abuse me so it could have been seen. She made sure no one would take her precious scapegoat. And on that day forward, my life changed forever.
Days turned into nights, nights turned into days. Surrounded by four walls, walls which years ago, my mom would tuck me in at night. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Did I do something that would make her stop loving me, and give her a reason to hurt me? Did she not give me to anyone because I wasn't lovable anymore? But after the things she did to me, how could anyone love me?
[The story of why my 'mother' turned into the monster she is, will come in due time.