JOHN. B. SELWOM
I lay in my bed, my chair is pushed against the door, so that my Father cannot walk into my dream;
I hear shouting downstairs, then a slapping noise, followed by my Mothers scream.
I hide my face under the pillow, trying to drown out her cries;
The shouting softens, as darkness descends across my eyes.
I must have fallen asleep, as I am awoken by the sun;
I creep downstairs for breakfast, where I am greeted by my beaten looking Mum.
Her eyes are black, her lips trembling a darkened shade of blue;
A tear rolls down her cheek, as I give her a hug, whilst whispering “Mum, I love you”.
Each night for as long as I can remember, my Father would take his anger out on me and my Mother;
I would hide my bruises under my shirts, whilst my Mum used make up for her cover.
The next night the screaming started again, slaps and cries rise up through my bedroom floor;
In the morning I ask my Mum why she has a bleeding nose, her reply as always was “I walked into the kitchen door”.
The years past, as I got older I got wiser to the pain;
Then on my 18th birthday, my life changed, from that night things would never again be the same.
For the first night it was quiet, no noise, in fact it was the first night in years that I could dream;
No cries, no shouting, not even one single scream.
I creep downstairs in the morning, open my living room door, my Father is reading a note, his face is completely blank, like he has lost all sense and meaning;
That’s when my world changed, as I turn around to see my Mum, hanging from a rope, swinging from the ceiling.
My heart drops through my body, I frantically lift her legs, but her feet are a long time cold;
My Father just sits there whispering “she should have done what she was told”.
I lay my Mothers limp body on the floor, gently resting down her head;
I scream at my Father echoing “it’s your fault she’s fucking dead”.
He leaps to his feet, wrapping his huge hands around my throat;
His piercing blue eyes stare into my soul, as he reads out her suicide note.
It read “I love you, I am so sorry but I have to leave, as the darkness is all I can see”;
My Father lets go of my throat, whilst saying “there you go, it wasn’t my fault, she didn’t even blame me”.
I just sit beside my Mother, as I hold her cold hand i stroke her hair;
I cry as the police arrive with the undertaker, whilst my Father is still sat down in his fucking armchair.
I wave goodbye to my Mother, as the private ambulance pulls away, and the police go to their next port of call;
Tears over whelming my face now, getting darker as they fall.
For the next few days I don’t leave my room, I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, and I see demons when I write;
Each time I close my eyes, the dark side becomes my new light.
The day of my Mother’s funeral arrives, as clouds and rain fills the sky;
I sit at the back of the chapel, as I watch my Father on the front row, being consoled as he pretends to cry.
My Mother’s ashes are sat at the head table, whilst I prop up the bar sipping on Red Rum;
My Father puts his hand on my shoulder, and says “tomorrow I am going to spread your Mother’s ashes, do you want to come”.
After another sleepiness night, my Father and I make our way to the white cliff tops by the sea;
My Father carries my Mother’s ashes, as dark voices inside my head, bring out the hatred in me.
As he stands on the edge, I stand behind him wishing he would just die;
I kick him full force in the back, and watch on in slow motion, as he tumbles off the cliff, and falls through the sky.
I kneel down on the edge, I see his body crushed on to the rocks below;
I could see his head split in two, even his insides were splattered out on show.
I feel no guilt, as he took away all which was mine;
I pull out my mobile phone, my hand trembles as I dial 999.
The ambulance arrives along with the police, that’s when I turned on my crocodile tears and cried;
I whimper out “I can’t believe he has left me alone, now my Mother and Father have both committed suicide”.
I arrive home, demons controlling my dreams, as my memory replays my Mother’s ashes scattering out as the urn fell;
My Father screaming through my night terrors, that he has saved a place for me in hell.
A few months past, nightmares tear my dreams apart, driving me insane;
Through the walls I hear my neighbors next door fighting, once again the dark voices put murder on my brain.
My next door neighbor is a twat, he cheats on his girlfriend, and beats her until she is black and blue;
The voices inside my head echo out “you got away with murder once, maybe you should make it two”.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)