But I couldn’t resist coming to visit. It has been so long and it’s not often that they let me leave the grounds. Even if we have to be escorted by one of their nurses. I thought—no, I felt that I needed to see you. I can feel that things will be different from this day forward. I can sense it. Bordering between pleasure and pain.
I really want to explain things. To let you know why I did the things I have done. To explain why our lives seem meaningless and pathetic. As you’ll see I had no choice. It wasn’t my fault. Not really.
How your eyes remind me so much of your grandfather. That’s where it all started. They were as dark as your and just as cold. How his eyes matched his personality. I remember a time when I could not remember him. When mom died, I was all he had left. Was I the cause? Surely, it wasn’t me. But, I am an only child. There was nobody else to blame but me. And so he did.
He touched me in more ways than I care to remember. In more ways than I can describe. Heavy hand. Soft hand. Not quite pain. Not quite pleasure. But ever present. I learned to forget what he did to me. But I learned. Sex was power. Sex was control. Those who controlled it, could control anyone. Yes, I learned to master this power. But how could others understand?
And when he died I had nowhere to go. Running to Granny’s for help. She never believed me. She would not accept what her son had done to me. She didn’t see the lost grandchild that I was. Her heavy hand never touched my body. Instead, it clenched and wrung out my soul. In her eyes, I was the worst of the worst for I was Sinner. And I found that living under the open hand of God to be just as cruel as my father’s. She warned me—if I didn’t repent, I would meet the Devil himself.
Well, she was halfway right. I met a man. Not like all the rest. He was different. I was no longer in control. I remember when unbridled lust was often killed by bitter sarcasm. My power. But it didn’t work. Not on him. Denial only seemed to fan the already burning inferno within him. And I was easily consumed by his fire. So easily destroyed.
Unwed and pregnant. Not only had he taken my control, my birthright. But he left me with his fortune. A burden that would ostracize me, no only form the family I had, but from the society of which I so desperately wanted to be a part of.
Don’t you see? There weren’t any choices to be made. Granny’s infernal morals kept me from abortion. Social rules and dishonor made me deliver you unto this world in secret. Claiming that you were abandoned on our doorstep. Taken in by our kindness, you would become part of the family. It was so easy. To believe in the words. To believe in the Deception. Protecting our fragile reality from breaking. Keeping our hands safe from the sharp shards of what we led others to believe. Breaking away from the morals we held so that we could uphold them.
You have to see it. Feel it. Anything to hide my shame. A thing I find lacking in myself. Wondering why I revel because of its absence.
And when it all fell apart, how easy it was to forget. Blocked within the deep confines of my soul. Locked away in the place of nightmares to protect my brittle mind. First your grandfather, then your father. It became so easy to hide the trials of life in the closets of my head. And then it happened. The accident. It weakened me. In body and soul. I was awaiting the Lifedread, my final reward. Yet it wasn’t who I was expecting. I was cheated eternal rest. I found myself greeted by the angelic demon, your father. I remembered everything in an instant. All those emotions. All the pain.
And there he stood gloating over the circumstances. He spoke and spoke about transgressions and forgiveness. I denied it. To let him suffer at the mercy of his own conscience. He handed me a gun. Weapon. Toy. Manmade Death. My key to revenge. He placed it in my hand and against his forehead. He wanted me to shoot. Yet, I resisted as he continued to ramble on and on about too many things. Mocking me. Pushing me to my limits. And finally, he succeeded.
He won.
Don’t you see? It’s his fault. All his fault. Had I not been raped, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant. Had he accepted responsibility, I could have borne a true son. Had I not been forced by society, I could have aborted you. And those words. Those damn words that he spoke. He turned me against you. It’s all his fault. He said that I would see him in you. And he was right. I did. And from that moment on, all was lost.
I shot him. Deader than dead. Then I was taken from you. Placed in the asylum. To meet others of my kind. Other, like Madeline, who felt, who experienced torments much like my own.
Now do you see? It’s not as simple as it seems. Do you understand now why I could, why I can’t love you? My poor, poor child. I pray to Heaven hoping that you understand. Praying that your father’s puppy doesn’t grow teeth. Because if it does, who would the world blame when it was loose?
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