Go to hell with me

are monsters born or created?

I know exactly how I became the person I am now. It started before I was born. My mother, Lisa Burn, was a prostitute. She didn't choose the life, it was the hard life path that led her to it. Lisa grew up in poverty, her father was an alcoholic, and her mother was addicted to pills. The family barely had enough to eat, and regular schooling was not an option for her. To support her family, she was forced to go out on the streets and offer her body to men.

At a young age, Lisa was thus forced to be an adult, even though she was still a child herself and had parents who could not adequately support her. The situation worsened when one day her mother took an overdose of pills and died. Now Lisa's life became even more difficult. Her father sank even deeper into alcohol, started gambling and became violent when Lisa couldn't give him money for his addiction. Eventually, she saw no other way out than to run away from home and work in a brothel. There she resorted to pills herself to get through the nights with the various men and their filthy fantasies.

One day she learned that she had become pregnant by one of these men. At first she considered abortion, but when she heard the tiny, innocent heart of her unborn child beating through the ultrasound, she made a life-changing decision. She wanted to give her child a better life than she ever had. Lisa quit her job at the brothel and found work as a cleaning lady. With hard work and hardships, she rented a small apartment in Denver and finally gave birth five months later. Despite all the difficulties, she was overjoyed when she held me in her arms.

But reality quickly caught up with her. Bills had to be paid, the child fed and nurtured. The money she had laboriously saved was not enough, and the cleaning job brought in only a little. Lisa therefore took on other jobs, often coming home late and getting up very early to work again. As a result, I grew up practically alone in this small apartment. I couldn't complain, because I had a roof over my head and food in my belly. But my mother's condition frightened me deeply.

As the saying goes:

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

The pressure on my mother was just too great, and she resorted to alcohol and pills, just as her parents had done before.

Years passed, during which I had to observe my mother's condition without being able to do anything about it. Lisa got tired of having several jobs and decided to go back to her old way of earning money. She chatted with men and invited them to her home. Every time someone came to visit, I had to hide in the closet. Nobody wanted a woman who already had a child. Through the slits in the closet I could see exactly what fantasies the men had and what tortures my mother had to endure just to earn a few dollars to get us through the day. It was a cruel sight and it wasn't long before my mother gave up.

After school, I came home with a smile on my face because an elderly lady had given me a cake - today was my birthday.

On that day I turned 13 years old. But that smile quickly disappeared when the beautiful strawberry cake landed on the dirty tiles. My mother lay dead on the floor, foaming at the mouth. Empty alcohol bottles and scattered pills lay around her. She had taken her own life, leaving me alone in this cruel world. I had no other relatives, and since we could not afford a place in the cemetery, my mother was cremated and her ashes scattered in the sea. She was now to be free to go wherever she wanted. I myself was sent to an orphanage, and lived there until I was 18, when I was kicked out, having now reached the age of majority.

I started to work for a delivery service, since I had no school education and thus could not get "normal" jobs. Yes, the reality of being an adult was hard. Very hard. Even I could barely make ends meet and had to go hungry for a few days. The darkness of reality reached me as well, and the love of life dwindled.