Chapter 6 Finding Solace In The Darkness

This is my first book, and I am learning as I go. All comments are welcome, especially those concerning structure.

Moving in with my Dad


Sometime around the age of 12, I began to express myself through writing and drawing a lot. The poetry was full of heartbreak and desperation and the drawing was very morbid. While the poetry seemed to flow with feeling, the drawings were often bloody scenes filled death, rage and despair. I titled my portfolio "Signs of Death" with the cover sheet portraying a vulture sitting on a bare limb. I don't remember what the fight was about, but the fallout is unforgettable. She was beyond mad this time. For some reason, in my adolescent mind it seemed appropriate for me to draw her a picture, and I did just that. She hadn't liked the poem I had shown her previously in a desperate attempt to gain her approval, so she was certain to not like the drawing which depicted a scene involving a bloody knife, a broken heart and titled "Today is the day of reckoning". Looking back now, it's almost laughable. This desperate, albeit radical cry for help may have actually been scary for her. To think that I was planning vengeance? I wonder if it was a guilty conscience that deemed her worthy of punishment in her own mind? Whatever the case, by the time I returned home that evening, she had taken the drawing, along with the rest of my portfolio, to the police. She wanted them to charge me with terroristic threatening or anything really, but thankfully they declined and informed her that I needed help. This was not what she wanted to hear, so instead she waited till I came home and kicked me out. This was a rude awakening, to say the least. I lost my home. I lost my room, my books, my safe place. What's more is that I could no longer even pretend that I was normal and had a family. I was completely and utterly terrified.

My Dad, or Joe as I called him, lived in a trailer behind Momma's and that's where I got banished to. Holidays were always a big deal at Mommas and this Thanksgiving everyone but Frank was invited. I was banned... an outcast.

It was during this time that I started smoking a pack of cigarettes a day. I was 13 and convinced that if I didn't look out for myself, no one else would. The only person I could rely on was Frank. So much misdirected determination, makes me wonder what might have been. I suppose that with less though, sanity may have slipped away completely.

My determination was not fueled by desire, but by a growing hatred. I spent many years kindling that flame until it became an all-consuming fire. It replaced the sadness and laid waste to the dreams. The life I grasped at was now far beyond reach, so I accepted my lot. I had learned to adapt. I had to. The constant moving, the new schools, the rough neighborhoods, the need to fit in. Drugs and alcohol became essential. As far as I was concerned, they were the great connector! I gained many acquaintances, and a few friends because of our common past times. The acquaintances secured my place in the social hierarchy, and the few friends filled my need for connection. I learned to give the bare minimum and take whatever I could. After all, I felt as if my entire life had been stolen from my grasp and I wanted restitution. This was a dangerous mindset for a child. Overly cocky and utterly reckless. From robbing and stripping cars to robbing houses and businesses. Anything for a thrill and everything for material gain.

Author's Note

This is my first book, and I am learning as I go. All comments are welcome, especially those concerning structure. This is a partial chapter.