Page 2 of Beautiful Nightmare
Daddyencouraged Mommy’s fear and is the person that suppressed me.
Together they created someone even more dangerous than the version of me they originally feared.
Cocktails of medication would be placed into a syringe each day and injected into my sleeping body in the middle of the night. There was no routine or schedule to his visits, because no matter how hard I tried to stay awake or predict his next move, I always failed and my eyelids won.
Except for tonight.
The medicine would start wearing off in the evening, and today I took advantage of that. Our old home in the French Quarter has many nooks and crannies, including a dumbwaiter. It was the perfect spot to hide. Shortly after dinner, I raced up to the top story where the platform sat. I crawled inside and curled my tiny frame into it and slid the thickwooden door down. As time passed, my eyes began to get heavy, and I let sleep win.
A commotion woke me. Unsure of how much time had passed, I slowly raised the heavy door and peeked my head out. Mommy was looking back at me.
Her mouth began to open to alert Daddy of my whereabouts, but I stopped her. All I had to do was think about it, and she obeyed.
Next, I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped Daddy was in my room pacing, as he does when frustrated. I demanded the door to close and lock. It slammed, and I jumped. A monstrous roar followed, and I knew my risk was rewarded.
My bedroom window faces the back gardens. I hope he was able to enjoy the masterpiece I performed for him.
My slippers pad against the narrow wood of the attic, and I stomp down the stairs so Daddy can hear that I’m coming, that he’s next.
An uncontrollable and chaotic laugh erupts from me, and my vision narrows as shadows surround it. My body skips down the hallway while my fingernails scrape against the wallpaper-covered walls. The brass doorknob at the other end of the hallway twinkles in my eyes. It’s all I see. As I reach the door,my body stills, the home quiets, and my eyes flutter closed. A high-pitched scream ends the brief moment of calmness. My eyes shoot open, and the door leaves its hinges and flies against my bedroom wall, shattering on impact. Wooden pieces float, and I’m captivated; they are as sharp as stakes. My eyes shift to the commotion to find Daddy crawling before me, whimpering like a fucking pussy.
Loud screams continue, joined by the flashing of my bedroom light.
Do it.
The stakes stabinto him like daggers, going through his legs and into the floor, penetrating his lungs through his back. Blood drips out of his nose and mouth.
“No, son, you don’t want to do this,” he pleads through wheezing breaths, but his efforts are years too late. In his hand is the syringe.Heis trying to distract me;hethinks I’ll show empathy and take mercy, only to allow him to stab me once more, like an obedient dog. Stomping my foot onto the ground, rage fills my body, and heat overwhelms my nerveendings from the tip of my fingers to the ends of my toes.
Ding-dong,can you hear me?
Do you fear me?
Kill yourself!
The syringe liftsin his hand, and he jabs himself directly in the jugular, in the primary artery in his neck, which pumps blood to his heart. But he doesn’t stop there. Tiny jabs of the needle continue to poke his skin. Long squirts of blood fly out and begin to puddle at his feet. When it comes to the last stab, Daddy pushes the needle through the skin in one fluid downward motion, stopping only once he’s reached his collarbone.
His hand falls, and his body follows, landing on the floor with a soft thud; blood bubbles from his lips. He is choking on his own beautiful crimson.
I watch his chest fall and his eyes die, then the light is gone. At the same time the screams stop, the bedroom goes dark, and finally I’m alone.
I’m me.
No moths appear, or maggots. Daddy is not worthy of such beauty.
His name will be defined by this one act. The doctor for the clinically insane, perhaps insane himself?
Stepping over Daddy, I walk to my bed, tired from the night and ready to sleep. But before I am able to, I feel a new energy, one which is not familiar to me.
Spinning around, I’m confused
An older lady in a frumpy brown dress, with white hair and pale skin, appears in the doorway, no emotion visible and no reaction given. Instead, she speaks, and her words come out monotone.
“Prince. You’re done now. It’s over. This is no longer your home.”
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