Blame

Chapter One of my book. Deimos describes his day and his feelings.

 It was Winter and I was fifteen years old. Mother had been dead for at least ten years. Today was my day to be shunned further but I didn't ask to be born. I woke up the usual way I wake up, a strike to the body with something, anything that was laying near and if nothing, a hand. Either my brother Gray had woken me up or my Father. Gray yelled but Father just gave me words of stiff cold nature and occasional brutal strike. A beating more severe if they were drunk and I learned to shrug it off. I reflected on the events of this morning as I walk through the snow barefoot.

Father and Gray had woken me up this morning. How? I was thrown out of my warm mat into the mud and snow slush. It was at least twenty degrees. I went out into the barn and took the blanket out from under the dog that had been given to it when it birthed it's puppies and I wrapped it around my body and went walking. I knew they wouldn't let me back in the house no matter how much I begged. I walked through the town smelling the scent of the rain fallen ground and the smoke from people's chimneys. My feet were already beginning to go numb and bleed some from broken glass in the streets. Finally I stopped to look up at the sky. The sky was dark and full of dark clouds as a thick fog filled the air. The buildings and people in the streets to the side of me were just barely visible. In the dormant trees around there were birds that looked as though they mourned the loss of a friend. Today fit it's description. The taste of the moisture in the air and the gray of the buildings usual flashing gleam fit. A homeless man stopped me in the street trying to get what I had on me.

"I have NOTHING!" I yelled at him.

"Yes you do! You have a blanket!" He shouted and kept trying to pull it off of me.

I finally kicked him in the face hard enough to knock him out and continued to make my way through town and finally sat in an alleyway to wait it out.

The little town of Bitterlune. A town that described disappointment not just in itself but in general. A town where if you were of high authority you were God. Just a little money, just the right name. You were King, yet they say Monarchies don't exist anymore, bah. That's all bullshit.  Everyone in town knew of my Father's story and his nature towards me, even the Mayor. Nothing was done about it because Dad gave them their money to keep it quiet and keep police, child services, anyone out of it. But it was my fault anyway. The blame is mine and if so I don't know why they just don't shoot me. I don't even know why I don't shoot myself. I guess that even in hopelessness, there is hope in my heart for something good. I got up again and began walking as the fog became a little less powerful. I was able to walk past everyone's houses. I wondered what set them apart from me and why I was so hated in this town. Over the years I began to ponder it. What made me such a horrible human being except the fact that I was BORN. The people in this town were just as horrible if not worse. I only begun examining it a few years ago. No one n this town was a saint and I mean no one. Even the most valued christian lady in this town, Miss Hawthorne, killed a child at one point. How? She gave her daughter an abortion at home when she got knocked up. Even the youngest child in the town killed someone I'm sure, even if it wasn't in this world out here, maybe it was in the womb. We're all accursed and there's nothing to do.

I often envision the world on a day like this and hope to be killed. If I killed me I would fall into Satan's hands . . .that would please the people but I don't wish to please anyone. I just wish to be happy myself but really what is happiness? What is misery? What do these words mean? And in the end do I win or do I really just keep losing? I'll never know. All I know is that I'm the blame to everyone's problems. I'm the reason that Father is a drunk, the reason Ray killed that man and is now rotting in prison, the reason Lucy slit her throat and wrote messages in blood in her last ounce of strength after she had been jilted by her fiancee, the reason Aaron left us and became successful, the reason Gray beats everything and everyone around and is a delinquent and the reason Marie went insane and is fed a bitter strychnine for dinner every night, but most of all I'm the reason my Mother is dead.

Mother was ill, very ill. By the time I was five she was so weak she died. Father says if it weren't for me she may have died. Even Mr. Farthingsworth, the town's doctor told him that. Since everything was so damn great when Mother was alive, maybe I was the antichrist and the town curse. I swear on my life that I will get out of this favoritism ridden town soon. Very soon, I just don't know when. Deimos Eton; a name forever put on the edge of a bill he cannot pay. A bill I've been forced to pay every morning and every moon that passes.

I banged my head against a wall in despair, lamenting in my torment and turmoil trying to figure a way out when I heard singing . . .
 

 

Author's Note

Yes, a very lame story. I know. But like I said, work in progress. Hope you enjoyed some or any. Even if it was just a sentence. Critique me. Please, Leave a review.
Thank you, Merci, Arigato, Gracias.

Reviews

[AliceSon13]

Spread it if you will.

[XxKooperxX]

this chapter is very good, nice work :)