Its nice. This northern ashy soil, cool to my skin. The night sky, glitter strewn across barren tree tops. Makes me wonder how fate drove me to this point. Torn white Tee, feeding the ever hungry red. Oh, how I have wished for so much still, and quiet. The first time i wished for it, I was too young to understand what I even needed.
Fed up with life, Tried choking myself to death. Too young to understand that it doesn’t work that way. I was thirteen. Abusive father, yelling from the other room. “YOU FINISH DEM DISHES!! I DONT CARE IF YOU GOTTA STAND THERE ALL NIGHT!! I CATCH YA SLOWIN DOWN AND IMMA BEAT JA ‘GAIN! …fuckn’ kids ack like dey own the place.” I couldn’t take it any more. I reached down and took off my lone sock, off my left foot. Wrapped the tattered off whitish yellow linen around my throat. Pulled tight. I feel my finger tips tingling. My vision reminiscent of static blurred television. I begin to feel cold.
I wake up in a field. Shirt missing. Already tattered pants even more torn and missing patches. all soaked in blood. I walk myself the six blocks it takes to get home. Police vehicles line the street. slowly creep around the corner of the aged and weather worn trailer. neighbors of the trailer park cul-de-sac stand in awe at their curb less patches of dirt. greater awe once they spot me. police officers with blankets scooping me up. mother frantically smothering me. everone is crying. i don’t know what happened. theres blood everywhere. apparently there was a giant beast. just enough flesh and bone to make a distinguishable identification.
The second time, i tried hanging myself. perfectly noose’d knot around my neck. bound my own hands and feet together. hoping to prevent myself, from releasing myself. rolled off the rafter storage shelf, in a shadowy corner of a poorly lit garage. i feel a strong snap. its happened. i did it. i feel no pain. that’s when i learned the beast inside was keeping me alive. this time I’m conscious through the entire transformation. i feel everything. the pain from breaking your neck is ten times more pleasant than the slow tweaking pain of feeling your neck bones being forced back into place. my skin swells tightly. enough to snap the handcuffs binding my wrists and ankles together, apart. i see my hands turn to claws. my skin turn from a pale rose to a dark grey. the ground travel further from me as my height grows further from the ground. this beast i have become, i have no control over. i watch, helplessly, screaming, but, the only thing my family hears is angry growls and beastly roaring. being forced to watch, as if my eyelids forced open. even torture victims have the strength to look the other way even when their eyelids are peeled open. this beast controls my eyeballs too. i cannot look away as i watch this beast pin my sister down and peel her skin off from her heel to her knee. her finger nails break as she tries clawing her way out of the grip that continues till her death. this happens the same way with my brother….with my mother….with the pet cat hiding, terrified behind the window curtains.
The third time i tried shooting myself in the mouth. a immaculately tuned .308 rifle. i didn’t kill anyone, but was just as terrifying knowing a heavy grained round bounces off the back of my throat. played with like a hockey puck. spit out like a used up, useless sunflower seed. thats when it started releasing it’s self on its own. thats when i learned i need to satisfy its urges with murder.
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