The Afterwards

In this book, I write about the incredible journey my soul undertook to find the answers that were plaguing my every thought as a child, and later, overwhelmed me as an adult.
I talk about my desperate search for answers during an anger phase that was untaught to me from the circumstances I reluctantly found myself in. My torment and agony as a child led me to question all that I thought I knew and believed to be true as I began to pay attention to 'the fight inside,' and ignore how people thought I should cope.
It may be that they too, were asking these haunting questions. They too, might have been searching for a way out of an ambush. But, they never found it.

I told her about the door handle that turned at night, and that no matter where I hid, be it under the bed, in the closet, or in my sisters' bedroom, he still found me. I told her that sometimes, he'd bring others with him and that it scared me. I told her not to cry because we were still okay, but that I worried about my Lily. I told her that I thought the monster was what was making her sick, and what had brought the seizures to her. I told her that Lisa was crying, but that she couldn't see her tears.

They were bouncing around inside of her. I told her that we knew he was beating her, and we would hear her cry in the night. I asked her to stop him, we are afraid he might kill her. I told her about the firearm he kept hidden in his closet, and how often he brought it into my bedroom to remind me to keep our secret. I told her I had learned how to use it. I told her that the next time he drove us at full speed, aiming for a solid brick wall, that he might not want to stop and that we would ultimately hit the wall. I told her that I didn't want my sisters to die. I told her that when she left for the stores, to please let us go with her because when she left us behind, he did things to us. I told her that when she went to Church and left me at home to keep an eye on him, he did things.

I told her that sometimes, I could feel my heart beating so loudly that I hoped she could hear. I told her that I wanted my father back, and that I wanted my sisters to live. I told her that I could remember the day it all began, and that it was the precise instant he left. I told her that most nights, it was pitch black around me and that my eyes often struggled to penetrate the darkness, no matter which way I would turn. As the boogeyman would come closer, it would be as a diffused glow ahead of me. I told her how heavily it weighed on my shoulders and how the darkness would brood and rotate around us all. Listening to the boogeyman's threats made me feel isolated and secluded, and scared me like I had never known fear before. I told her that as much as I wanted to run away from it all, I couldn't move. I was frozen. I couldn't fight. I was paralyzed. It was as though I was being slammed into invisible barriers all around me and that the piercing moaning of the boogeyman made it hard to breathe.
I told her that hell was our home and that the devil was living amongst us. It was waging a battle against us, trapping us in fear and striking out at us with each ounce of aggression he could muster up. I told her of the lies he has convinced himself would turn into the truth, desperate to erase his brutality.

I told her that I hated him and living one more moment with him would only guarantee more hatred, betrayal, hostility and pain. I told her that I knew she didn't know, and that I knew she didn't hear our screams. They were silent, bouncing around inside of us. I asked her to help us stop it, because I couldn't stand one more night in the darkness. I told her my sisters wouldn't survive. And then, I told her how truly sorry I was, and how I wished we could go back to before.