Innocent Torture

1|stumbling in

She explained to my ten and a half year old self that we were going to be okay. And that I now had a bigger family.

And then I met him. The man that promised to love us unconditionally, and never hurt me or my mother ever in his life, because if he did, that would mean he was hurting two of gods most beautiful and precious angels.

If only his words were true.

In time things were okay. I began to find comfort in this man, and even saw the light come back to my mothers eyes whenever she was around him. By this time we had moved into a new home, and even had more money than before.

It was crazy to think that just around that time, a year ago, we were completely on opposite ends of the scale now.

A year ago, my mother was with a black man, who was an alcoholic, who didn't care about his family and how much he had hurt us by doing the things he did.

And then, my mother was with a white man. Who seemed to love us with everything he had in him. Always giving us what we wanted, making sure I was okay, and that I felt the love as much as my mother did.

Even promising to never try and take the role of my father. Although he gave me permission to remind him every now and then if he was crossing boundaries.

I believed him, and eventually I began to think of him as a father figure.

Three years had went by then, and I was finally in my teen years, feeling happy with my life, and just now seeing the good in the world. My mother was happy, we were in a nice home, and I didn't have to worry about anything.

Until things changed.

I saw my mother less, and when I did, I noticed how different she had been acting and how her body had changed.

From her tall and curvaceous body, to the slim and now hunched back she always seemed to carry around with her.

Her curly hair had been shorter than usual, and she only seemed to go straight to the bathroom and never to the kitchen whenever I saw her.

But one thing I remember the most about her, was that her smile never changed. She always had the brightest smile on her face, and it never faltered no matter the mood she was in.

She tried to stay strong for me.

Then my life changed. My world was officially spinning in all different directions, and I was stuck trying to find out just what I was going to do.

I came home from school, and walked into the large home, to hear screaming coming from the upstairs part of the house.

It was Gales. My mothers new husband.

I instantly felt dread in my heart as I knew something was wrong. My feet took me to the room before I could even think about what I would be seeing, and as I ran up the stairs and stood outside the door that's when I saw her.

Lying in the bed, her robe undone and her head turned right at me as her eyes looked directly at me.

The once brightness in her eyes was now gone. The color to her deep chocolately skin had now turned an almost pale like color, and even though I wasn't touching her, I could tell she was cold.

I hadn't registered what was going on until Gale was screaming at me to call 911 as he tried to resuscitate my mother.

But I just couldn't move. I couldn't even breathe. All I could do was stand there, and watch as my mothers eyes lost their color, and she became limp on the bed.

My mother had died because of me.

And every day since then, I was reminded that it was my fault.

I was reminded by myself, and the man who I thought I was growing to love.

He at first gave me my space, and even tried to comfort me. But I was silent, not even leaving the bedroom to go and shower or eat.

I became a mute.

And that's what angered him.

My first beating was the day he came home, drunk. The sight reminded me of the man who abandoned my mother and I, and as he lazily walked into my bedroom, the muscles in his arms pulsating and a crooked smile on his face, I felt dread in my heart as I somehow felt something bad was going to happen.

And then it did.

I was picked up by my hair, and practically thrown across the room into the dresser with metal round knobs on it by this man.

He screamed at me, and told me how disgusting I was to look at everyday. How I reminded him so much of the woman he loved, and that I shouldn't even be alive if she wasn't.

And from that day on, he made it his duty to remind me that I wasn't anything but a mistake to a past relationship that cost my mother her life.

I shook my head as I thought about these things. How much time has changed, yet how indifferent things could be and how hope isn't something I should ever become infatuated with again.

It would only bring me more pain, and agony, along with the disappointment of realizing that some things are meant to be, and that the life I was dealt is what I'm going to have to live with.

My chest heaved up and down as I sat in front of the black painted over mirror. My beat up reflection of course sitting behind it, as a tiny peek of what I look like showed up through the crack of unpainted black part of the mirror.

I always avoided my reflection. For reasons that I wouldn't have to admit, but rather just know right of the bat when someone looked at me and saw how I looked.

Alone, tired, homeless.

I hadn't realized how long I had been staying in this studio for, until I glanced over my shoulder and saw a yellow-ish light coming in through the small quarter sized curtain covering the basement sized window.

That meant it was nighttime, and the street lights were on.

And that also meant that Gale was home. I scrambled then, hurrying up as I felt all sorts of pain in my body, but not bothering to revel in the fact that I was in immense pain but only wanting to make sure I didn't get a broken bone instead today.

My hands were stuffing everything I had brought with me back inside of the over stretched orange and blue backpack as I tried to fit everything inside.

Eventually I gave up when the bag kept unzipping back open with every move I made to it, and I threw on my oversized orange hoodie and green eaten up hat before practically running to the large silver door.

And just as I was about to yank it open, and run out, the door opened and a guy with a large silver pistol in hand and bloody clothes stood before me.

Just my luck.

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I hope you all are enjoying this new version of Innocence is Torture! I tried really hard to make it easy to understand things, and get good visuals for you guys (which you'll probably see later on into the story) But for now, please be patient and more content will be out soon.

I cant promise any consistent updates or anything but just know I will try not to leave you all hanging for another month. ;) Much loveeeeee!

- Ellipticall