I Became an Imaginary Friend

Chapter 10- The Past

WARNING!
If you are triggered by abuse of any kind, then please do not read the words that look like this(italicized). I will have —— these as borders to show when the past begins and ends.  Thank you for your understanding!

Stella had returned to school one week after Christmas, leaving me all alone in her room with the gifts she picked out for me. One was a plush blanket that I was surprisingly able to curl up with, even though I didn't feel the cold. Another one was a set of pajamas. There was also a poster for my favorite zombie game. The last gift that was given to me was an identical ring to Stella's though it had my name on the inside, and the message read, " My best friend, and my family".

Cheesy, I know, but it was the cutest thing I have ever received! The ring went right next to the one my mother got for me, resting just under my collarbones.

I was sitting at Stella's small table, holding both rings in my hand when Layla walked in. I smiled warmly at her, which she returned. She sat across from me and laced her fingers together.

" How are you feeling?" she asked.

" I'm alright," I replied. " I'm just thinking is all."

" About what?"

I chuckled softly. " I'm trying to figure out how I got so lucky."

Layla cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

" Lucky?"

" I know it sounds weird," I acknowledged, " but I am. I mean, yeah, I'm dead, but I got to meet Stella, and you, and Seraphina. Henry's okay, but he needs to be more invested in his family and not the business. Other than that, this is a great family you have, and I'm so lucky to be here."

Layla's smile grew.

" We love having you here, Chris," she said. " And it pains me to know that you had a rough childhood, yet you still turned out to be the young man you are today. I'm proud of you."

I felt a sting in my eyes, and I tried to cover it up.

" Thank you, Layla."

" Of course!"

I contemplated whether or not I should tell her, and I had decided that it was time someone knew.

" Layla, I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to take it as advice, alright?"

" Sure," she replied.

" Alright," I said.

I took a deep breath, and I began to tell her about my past.

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I was eight when my mother passed away from cancer. Losing her set everything else into motion. She had been the rock of the family, the stability. She had been the nurturer to us all. With her gone, that stability had left as well.

Especially in my father.

What had been one drink on the weekend had become one case of beer everyday. With him, it was like treading on eggshells to please him. With the increase in alcohol came the increase of " disciplinary actions", which turned swiftly into physical abuse. He had an entire house to take it out on, yet his target was my body.

If something wasn't done quickly enough, I was beat. If I looked at him wrong, I was beat. If I tried to speak, I was beat. If I whimpered while getting a beating, it doubled. There was no winning with my father.

Soon, physical abuse wasn't satisfying my father anymore. His frustration grew to enormous heights until it needed to be released. He found a way to do it, too. He wanted to hurt me. He wanted me to feel the way he felt. Physical abuse wasn't cutting it anymore, but something else satisfied him.

The first time it happened, it was dark. No light shone through the windows of the small trailer home, so I had the comforter pulled all the way up to my chin, my only shield against the monsters in the room. Except, it couldn't stop ALL the monsters.

The door had opened softly, and was closed again. My blood had run cold as I heard the click of the lock on the door. Though I was eight, I knew something horrible was going to happen. I heard him pull off his belt, and I prepared myself for a beating. Instead, my father got on top of me, covered my small mouth with his monstrous hand, and pinned me down while he unzipped his fly. I was too young to understand what had happened exactly, but I was old enough to know that it wasn't right, and I never wanted it to happen again.

The sexual abuse went on until I was sixteen years old. I got emancipated and moved in with my aunt Rachel. She had offered to pay for therapy sessions, but I had refused. The only therapy I needed was the voice in my head telling me to never be like my father.

I never turned into him, either.

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" Oh my God," Layla whispered in horror after I had finished.

I nodded solemnly. " Yeah, it was rough."

" Rough?!" Layla asked incredulously. " Your childhood was a nightmare! And the fact that you managed to turn into the young man you are now, it's mind blowing!"

I chuckled.

" Seriously!" she insisted. " I don't understand!! You managed to walk away stronger in a positive way! How did you do it?!"

" I made a promise to myself the first time he raped me," I told her. " I told myself to NEVER become the man he had. Being Stella's friend has actually helped me in that aspect. I've only felt the urge to protect her, not to hurt her."

Layla smiled at me, then her eyes went dark.

" I don't think I ever apologized for hitting you," she said.

I cocked an eyebrow.

" The day you told me to build a real relationship with my daughters," she explained. " I was so angry at you for speaking the truth, so I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

" I mean, I've gotta admit, you've got one mean left hook," I joked.

She laughed at the attempt. " It's okay, I guess."

" Don't sell yourself short," I scolded her. " You're a strong fighter. It's a good trait and ability to have. Also, there was no need to apologize. I forgave you that day anyways."

Layla nodded, then moved around the table to hug me. I hugged her back, and I was instantly reminded of how my mother would hold me. The hug was firm, but comforting. Layla's hair also smelled like citrus, just like my mom's use to.

I was overwhelmed with wonderful memories of my mother that I broke down and began to cry on Layla's shoulder. She rubbed my back and petted my hair, whispering that everything was alright, and everything would be okay from now on. I believed those words, too.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Word Count: 1146

PLEASE READ BELOW!!!

A/N: Welp, here comes the time where I hope you have been paying close attention to the details of the story. I hope that by this point, you are a little on edge, wondering what's in store for the chapters to come. If not, that's fine. I just hope you're enjoying the story.

I know how I want it to end, but I'm still having some difficulty coming up with the events leading up to the climax. So, along with school work and basketball, I won't be updating the story very often. There's only a few chapters left, too, so please bear with me a little longer.

Thank you for reading! I'll see you soon!