Innocent Torture

1|stumbling in

E B O N Y

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"I don't wish for him to come back. I just wish it was me, instead of him." -Jackie

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She wished things could have went differently.

She wished her life, could have been better.

There were a lot of things Ebony had wished and hoped for, but never got the blessing of.

But she was okay with that. She had learned to live with the circumstances, and realize that hoping and wishing for things just wasn't in her favor.

As Ebony wiped a tear away from her cheek, and stared at the black mirror, she thought about her life. And just how she got to the lowest point, which was right here.

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Most people's lives start out with loving families, and open hearts to feel loved and cherished by.

There's usually a mother with a working job, and a father that also would support the family.

In my case, it was too early for me too realize that that wasn't quite what life had entailed for me.

My father soon turned out to be an aggressive alcoholic, and my mother was his release from a hangover.

Whether it had been in bed, or just by hurting her with physical and/or emotional abuse, and how he always stayed out late at night, not caring if we worried about his whereabouts.

Up until one late night, where his outing turned out to be one of his lasts. On his way to nowhere in particular, he got hit by a car. The person who hit him was never found, and after months of what soon turned out to be a cold case investigation, we were seen by the police, and the community as foolish for actually believing that a drunk man would get justice when walking on the side of a highway.

My mother then gave up trying to find whatever justice she could, for the man that never showed her love in the recent years, and eventually, we moved on.

Not entirely, but physically. We moved out of our old town, and into a more peaceful one. Much smaller and a lot more 'closer knit together' in terms of feeling like we belonged, and getting away from the people's constant looks of pity when they saw a black mother, and her daughter with no father around.

The stereotypes quickly began as you could say.

But then my mother found her own release. From the pain, and the heartache and embarrassment she had to go through, which she tried so hard to hide from me even though as a ten year old girl, I could tell when she just wanted to be left alone to cry, or even be angry with herself.

That release she had found wasn't a drug or even alcohol like my father. But instead it was a person. Someone she felt close too, and soon began to love.

And although this was only a year after my fathers death, and the pain we were put through along with the all the embarrassment was still hurt inside of the both of us, I still was in shock that everything was moving so fast then.

And then things began to move even faster when my mother came home one day with a man. And a ring on her finger, along with a shaky smile from the tears she had recently shed.