Healing Myself

Old wounds and nightmares

"Drink", she said. "Drink or I'll make you drink it!"

"Mother, please...." my voice gave out as I trembled from fear. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I was forced to swallow the revolting concoction. I was thankful that she at least remembered that I was still a 10 year old, and had diluted the mixture with water.

For someone who was sick, mother had enough sense to know just how many parts lemon and vinegar were needed to make me go mute. My throat had adjusted to the usual assault, and it took me only 1, or 2 days at most, to recover, but it still hurt when it went down my throat. I didn't speak for days though, even after my voice would be back, afraid that the next time, she won't add any water to the mixture.

I woke up with a gasp and turned on my bedside lamp. My forehead was covered in sweat and I could almost feel a burning sensation in my throat, even though I knew it wasn't real. What had happened three months ago had brought back a lot of my old nightmares, along with new ones. I looked around my room to reassure myself that I wasn't in that hellhole anymore. I was safe from that woman and her vile punishments.

My room was pretty big, with white walls decorated with a lot of pictures and vintage mirrors-I loved those things. A large queen sized bed with pastel pink bedding and a couple of throw pillows in grays, pinks and lilacs, tucked against one wall. A window with cream edges on the adjacent wall, which gave a view of the empty house across the street. A huge bookshelf; where I kept all my books and music. A baby grand white piano stood in one corner of the room, my mahogany violin leaning against it, creating a beautiful contrast. And of course, there was my closet and attached bathroom. There was also my trunk from my old house, sitting against the foot of my bed, but I rarely opened it. Mom and Dad had made sure I had everything I ever wanted. And I did.

I know you're probably wondering about what mess went down in my past, so I'll save you the pain by going into a little, okay probably a big, flashback.

No family is perfect. And mine completely explained just how worse some of them could be. Ever since I was a kid, no one in the house had really liked me. My dad went on too many business trips to really bother whereas mom was indifferent to my presence. I had an older sister, Marie, and she would play with me when we were young, but after a while she had taken after our mother and had started to ignore me. I didn't know if it was finally Marie's indifference or mom getting sick, but mom had found an opportunity.

She had begun with little punishments for no reason, like hitting me or making me kneel on the floor, but overtime both, her punishments and forgetfulness, had increased in their intensity. She would make me kneel on rice or tie me to a stool, leaving me there for hours, only to see me later and not even remember that she had done it. With dad barely home and Marie too prideful to even touch the mop, or do the dishes, I was the one left to do the house chores when mom got sick.

It was one of these days, when I was coming back after throwing the trash, when a boy my age had seen me and asked me if I wanted to play. I had fervently refused, but the damage had been done. Since then mom had made sure I would rather become mute than talk to anyone, especially a man or a boy.

Overtime I had come to realise that mother was not my real mother, and that Marie was my half-sister. Mother had been in one of her medicine induced stupors, when she had explained me the reason why she hated men; and me. Now I knew dad wasn't a very great, well, dad, but to hear that he wasn't even a loyal husband knocked some sense into me about his overall character.

I was the product of infidelity, of course I didn't know what that word meant back then, but it didn't take my curious self a lot of time to figure it out. And as if that wasn't enough, my real mother was dad's 16 year old cousin who had died giving birth to me. I don't know how it really happened between the two of them, but I've always hoped she was never forced into anything.

I was only 12 years old when it happened.

I never really knew what it was that my dad did, but it did involve a lot of moving. God knew what 'business' required us to uproot our lives, not that they were any great, and move from Illinois to South Carolina overnight, but I am glad we boarded the train that day.

We had been in a compartment with a woman named Lynn Winston and her daughter, who was the same age as me. The woman had tried to socialize, like any other nice human being, but after witnessing the lack of reaction from our family, had smartly backed off. It was the last station before reaching South Carolina; some terrorists had got on, and five minutes later all that was left was debris and a handful of people who had been fortunate enough to survive.

I had obviously been one of them, and so had Lynn. However, the trauma of losing her daughter had hit her so hard, that Lynn had completely blocked any memories she had of her. Like the kind woman she was, she had instead taken me back with her to her home, all the while mumbling about how thankful she was that nothing had happened to the both of us.

It had shocked her husband, Xander his name was, to say the least, when she had returned home with a child they knew nothing about. Seeing his wife's condition and her persistence to take care of me, he had immediately taken me in. Lynn's amnesia didn't allow her husband to grieve the loss of their daughter in front of her, so as I would wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares, we would both sit together, drawing comfort from each other's presence.

It wasn't long before the shock of the incident wore off, and Lynn started getting her memories back. We had all come to care for each other, and it was hard seeing her so hurt and afraid. Hurt because she had forgotten her own blood, the daughter she had so cherished. And afraid, because she didn't want me to think that she would treat me any differently, than she would have her own daughter. I was worried they might get rid of me, now that Lynn remembered, but instead they had asked me about my own family. I had trusted them, still do, and had very easily given them my life story.

They had been angry and pained upon listening what I had gone through, and had started to go ahead with the process of a legal adoption. It seemed my old family didn't want me happy, even after they had left the face of this earth. I had no social security number, no identification and no legal documents that stated I was a real person.

I was, practically, a ghost.

This would have been a huge problem, had Xander not been Academy. Apparently, ghosts like me were almost non-existent, and if I were to join this........thing, I would be a huge asset in their missions which supposedly focused on helping people.

The Academy, is kind of like a cult. It's basically people who have went through, or are still struggling, with the demons of their life, that have come together, and would go to many lengths to make sure that others don't experience the hardships they have. The Academy gives them financial stability or helps their family, if need be and also gives out favors for the jobs their members take on, that can be cashed in many ways.

Xander wasn't sure if I wanted to be a part of it, so he kept my ghost bird status (the Academy has a code, where boys are called dogs, and girls are birds), and after pulling some strings, registered me as Sang Winston. So if I ever wanted to be a part of this organization or make use of my status, I was free to do so.

Initially, I had wanted time to heal. And later on, I had been too busy enjoying my freedom that I had forgotten just how cruel life could be.

What happened 3 months ago, is a story for another time, but it made me realise just how much letting your guard down can hurt; both you and those around you. It brought me back to square one. Last time, helping Lynn, and my newfound freedom had kept me going, but this time, I felt as if I had no drive.

I wouldn't stop though; I will join the Academy, help others, and put myself back together.

•••••

AN: The happiness I feel outing the step-fam in chapter 2 is unimaginable. (I know Sang's father and her were biologically related, but let's be honest, it's not like he was any better)                 

QOTD: Do you guys used to, or still, move around a lot? I've always had a pretty stable environment. I have only moved once, that too just across the city! Comment and tell me.