Where Darkness Lies

Prologue

I don't remember much as a child in terms of happy events. I do remember the physical abuse though. I get flashbacks of the many times I begged my mom not to tell my dad of my mistakes. I'd hide when he came home so that I wouldn't be beaten into submission. I feared my dad more than anything. The worse part was that my mom would turn a blind eye to it all.
    My dad was a shorter man, standing at 5'9. He had a bald head and his skin was always dark from working in the hot sun. He was lean and well built. His strength shown when he would spank me or when he grabbed my arm leaving angry red marks and bruises. He never took care of me as a child. He would leave me with my siblings and let them handle me. The only time he took notice was when I did something he didn't like which was just about everything. My mom worked all the time and when she wasn't she was out at the bar with my dad.
    My mother was a beautiful woman with a kind heart. She has soft, dirty blonde hair and pale blue eyes. I never understood why my mom was with my dad. My dad controlled her and I remember the many times they would fight and she'd go to her room to take a nap. I knew better though. She didn't just take naps, she'd cry herself to sleep.
   It wasn't until I was old enough to go fishing that my dad deemed me worthy enough to be in his presence. The only time he spent with his kids was when he was able to mold us into what he wanted us to be. Most of my siblings got along with him and by that I mean the ones he helped make with me being the exception. I never agreed with the things he said or the way he thought. He had it in his head that if somebody doesn't respect you and thinks differently than you, then you needed to 'beat their ass'.
    I always tried my best to please my dad and make him at least somewhat proud of me. Nothing was ever good enough though. I eventually became obsessed with trying to get people to praise me for the things I did. When it came to school, I didn't have many friends. When I did make a friend, it always seemed to fall apart as soon as I started trusting them. I would always blame it on the fact that I wasn't pretty enough and I was too fat. I was made fun of for my appearance both at home and at school. I wanted to be a ballerina, but my dad wanted me to act like a boy because boys weren't afraid of anything unlike me. I was dressed in old clothes that got passed down to me from my siblings. They mainly consisted of boyish looking things. Contributing to my appearance was my chubby face and my too chubby body.
    Eventually my dad went to counseling to 'get better'. He stopped beating me and turned to something worse. I always thought that nothing could be worse than getting hit for a simple mistake and yet luck was not on my side. Verbal abuse doesn't sound bad if it hasn't happened to you I guess. You wouldn't think you'd feel physical pain just from a few choice words. At first I would ignore the degrading insults and threats, but after years of it continuing, it takes its toll.
    I was 13 when I broke down and turned to another form of pain. It hurt at first, that first glide of the razor across your wrist. What most don't understand is that it can become addicting when you want to feel something else or anything at all. Soon it became my relief. I would look forward to it and make the excuse that I deserved it. I was a burden to others and didn't bring anything good with me. Sure I could fake a smile and say I was alright. Some might have even said I was the happiest person they've seen. In reality though I was far from it. I had forgotten what happiness was and what it felt like to feel joy.
    By the time I was 15, I attempted to take my life. My mom rushed me to the hospital where they questioned me and had somebody watching me 24/7. I was eventually admitted into my first mental hospital. I was there for a week until they figured I was stable enough. Over the years you pick up ways to lie to make people believe you're okay. I could have passed as an actor really with how well I played those doctors into believing the medications they had given me worked. Honestly though I had felt no different. I was set up with a therapist who I thought was okay. I hid things though. The things that would get me sent back like the fact that I had stopped eating and sleeping. I continued hurting myself and had found ways to hide it. Nobody noticed that I didn't eat. I would lock myself in my room listening to depressing music or reading.
    I was in and out of mental hospitals after that. I would be admitted almost twice a year. The last time though is when I told myself I wouldn't go again. It was when I was 19. I went to another state to be admitted into a long term facility. I was there for 7 weeks. Just like all the other times, I was put on different medication. I got diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, severe depression, and anxiety. Nothing new really. It was when I got molested by another patient that things went way down hill. I was too afraid to say anything. When I did though I was told that nothing could be done about it because I had no evidence.
    When I got home, I went straight to my room and stayed there. My dad being the person he is, didn't know I was home. Him and my brother were in the living room talking. It hurt like hell when I heard my dad tell my brother that I was wasting his money with the hospital visits. It hurt even worse when he blamed me for his failing marriage with my mom. I ended up getting a job and moving out after that.
    Now here I am, more alone than ever. I moved into a small, dirty little trailer by the woods in the middle of nowhere. It was cheap and far away from people. I had always found comfort in nature, but never once would I think I'd find the light in my dark world here of all places.

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Hello! This is my first story so I'm sorry if it sucks. If I have made any mistakes please feel free to correct me. Also, all hate will be deleted. I'm not sure how long of a story this will be or if there will be a sequel. It just depends on how well it goes.
M.C.