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I apologize to my readers. I have been struggling with several life changes and events. The adjustment to those changes and events have been daunting and then combine that with spending the majority of my free time on the book – proof reading – rewriting – proof reading again (rinse, cycle, repeat); time has escaped me, and the excuse of “Life” has reared its ugly head into view again.

Well I am here to make it up to you. I am going to share the first chapter of the book with you. It is a very raw rough draft, and it brings to light some of the darkest things in my memory. Most of it is true, with some added details to bring lines together in poetic form… it’s not for the faint of heart… if you are not comfortable with the deepest of buried skeletons, turn away. You’ve been warned.

Oh and if you spot any grammar errors punctuation, please let me know!

Chapter One: Forsaken

One of my earliest memories alive, in dry Texas heat and night time had finally arrived.
Maybe a child of four, locked in a bedroom of a trailer that was a single wide.

Laying on the floor with a plastic pumpkin Halloween bucket of months old candy was sometimes all there was to eat to survive.

I shared my candy with the mouse that lived in the wall until he was trapped, poisoned, and died.

That mouse was my only friend and I would talk to him for comfort when I would hide.
It was nice to not be alone because in the dead of the night – the violence would come alive.

I can hear my mom in the other room being beat; bruises and black eyes.
I close my eyes only to envision fleshy wounds being cut wide.

I’m scared.

The feeling of enviably crawls and nips at me.

I know what is coming next.

In mere moment it would be my time.

The concept of praying wasn’t foreign to me and with God still on my young impressionable mind, I’d close my eyes like we did in church and ask for help between the sobs of my cry.

The sounds of violence – the screaming pain, the sound of fist on bloody flesh has stopped.

What happened to mom – has she died?

I’m so scared.
I’m so alone.
Deeper in the corner of the room I climb.
The footsteps are coming now.
They come to an abrupt stop at my door.
I cower in my corner as my ears are filled with a metallic grind.

It was the mechanical releasing of the hook latch from the outside – the thing they used to keep me locked away inside.

I can’t escape.

The door slowly opens with a creak.
An imposing figure walks to my corner and stands over me.

“Look at me”, the monster speaks.

Trembling, I look up and I see him.

A twisted face with cruel eyes behind clenched teeth and my mom’s blood is splattered all over his white Tee.

The monster is the biggest man I’ve ever seen, an evil giant that towers over everything.
The world goes black as his hand connects with my cheek.

I prayed, why did God forsaken me?

Some days later I came home from Pre-K and the trailer door was wide open.
Knowing it should always be closed or I would really get beat – I hurried to the door as fast as my little legs and feet could carry me.

I made to the door wearing a giant backpack, I’m sure for any spectator it was a sight to see.

As I climb the metal stairs, I’m counting like I learned today.

One!
Two!
Three!

Mom I’m home!

You’ll be so proud of me!
I can count to ten! What a feat!

Now I am inside with the door closed to my relief, but only silences came to greet.
I searched to left, passing through the living room.
No one is here, did they abandon me?

I keep hearing strange noises, but I am losing my courage to go look and see.
I hear the soft wheezing of an exhale in labored efforts to breathe.

It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen and as I pass the garbage, it’s full of strange magazines.
I stop and look.
I’m so confused.
The pages show men without clothes and the same with ladies.

I move in to the kitchen, shaking the pictures from my memory.
I never did forget them, or the next unsightly scene.

There mommy lays on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.
Her eyes are open, staring into space.

I don’t understand.

I’m right here mommy, why do your eyes look right through me?

Why are her eyes hazy?
As hard as I try to stir her, she does not respond to my pleas.

I am brave I tell myself.

My mommy needs me, but what am I supposed to do?

I know!

I need to call that number they teach.
It’s Nine-One-One I tell myself.
Or at least, I think.
There is a problem, they corded phone is on the wall and no matter how hard I try – it remains just out of my reach.

I run out of the trailer – I know help is what I seek.
Continuing up the dusty drive there is a big house, but no one is home.
I yell for help through my sobs but there are no responses, not even a peep.

I ventured past the cattle gate, there’s nothing to the left or to the right as far eyes can see.

This is the furthest from the trailer I have been on my own.
Knowing if I go any further, I will get beat.
I don’t care anymore – mommy really needs me.

I decide to go left and I walked along the empty highway for an eternity as it seemed.
I finally came across a lady in a flower bed – pulling weeds.

She sees me approach.

I’m scared and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but my mom – I’ll do my best to be strong for her.

Through streams of tears I try to explain.

Not knowing what to tell her, I don’t think I have the words to explain.
I stick with three words I do know;

Help.
Mom.
Please.

Her facial change signifies she understands.
“Come with me inside Sweetie” she says as we enter the house.

She motions towards the couch and directs me to take a seat.
“You poor little boy, I can only imagine how exhausted you are from walking in this Texas heat.”

She walks to the cupboard and pulls out a plastic cup and then calmly fills it with water from the sink.

She returns, handing me the cup.
My hands are shaking and I spill half of it right down the front of me.

I’m so afraid, normally for accidents I would get beat.

She just laughs.

I feel a strange feeling internally, I don’t quite understand – this feeling of relief. With a smile the lady walks to the phone, picks it up and then dials the police.

When the police arrive, I’m still panicked.
I find the SUV with all the lights and sirens exciting, proving momentary relief.

The officer gets out of the car and approaches the nice lady.
I can see they are talking and she keeps motioning towards me as she’s explaining.

After a few minutes, the officer calmly walks towards me and flashes me a smile and he stops in front of me, slowly taking a knee.
With a slow Texas drawl, he asks “Son, where do you live?”

I’m so far from home so I shrug and point toward the general direction in which I walked from.

“Where are your parents?” Mommy… help, I tug at his sleeve.

Internally I’m thinking – just follow me please.

The officer makes a quick movement towards me as he stands, I flinch and cower at his feet.
“Ah son, there’s no need for that. You are okay.”, but I just wait there like a dog about to be beat.

A little slower this time, the officer bends over and scoops me up and is carrying me to his police car and then gently places me in the seat.

We are now driving down the road back towards the direction I pointed.

“When you see something that reminds you of home, let me know please”.

I’m so young that I don’t quite understand the concept of time but I am sure the minutes click by five, ten, to fifteen.

The fear starts to trickle its way in.

I’m afraid, what happens if I miss the gate? What if I can’t tell him when I see it?

Wait! There it is!

It’s a wide steel gate, rusty with remnant paint blotches of blues and greens.

The officer sees me point and hits the brakes and we come to a stop with a screech.

We turn down the long dusty drive and cruise past the big house and on up to the trailer. We come to a stop as the dust plume engulfs us.

I reach for the handle, but the door is locked.
Tears spring forth, I point.

Help Mommy Please.

My mommy is alive in the hospital, but now I’m left alone with the monster every night.

I’m so scared.
I’m so alone.
Deeper in the corner of the room I climb.
The footsteps are coming now.
They come to an abrupt stop at my door.
I cower in my corner as my ears are filled with a metallic grind.

It was the mechanical releasing of the hook latch from the outside – the thing they used to keep me locked away inside.

I can’t escape. I close my eyes, bow my head and pray. I’m crying, Please help me!

“Look at me”, it speaks.

The world goes black as its hand connects with my cheek.

As I come to there’s so much weight I’m underneath.
I’m face down on the bed; my small body is shaking back in forth.
Someone is on top of me.

I can smell the stale beer and cigarettes on its breath – it reeks.

I feel something inside that shouldn’t be followed by a grunt.
There is so much pain. I cry, but no one can hear.

Somebody help me – Please. God? I need you…
And that is how the ending of my innocence came to be.

I prayed, why did God forsaken me?

Darren Deason 1/8/2021