The Devil In Beautiful People Read Count : 28

Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Drama

STOP!-” I yelled! 
“Please stop it!-” I cried! 
“Hello PLEASE?”  
“Can nobody hear me?”
“HELP ME!” I know I heard myself speak. 
“Come on stupid say something!” I said to myself softly as I started to cry.
“Come on, Shout! Scream anything, you coward! SPEAK!-” I kept repeating to myself. Come to think of it, I could’ve sworn that I did.

     “Hello 911, What is the name of your emergency?

Born with what the doctor diagnosed me as (SBS) or Split-Brain Syndrome, definitely did not make life any easier. Not to mention, I wasn’t able to stem the emotional aspect of the human brain. A lot would assume that would make me emotionless. The only thing I will say is, it did not make it easy for people to socialize with me. Unless it piqued my interest. They might have mentioned that I had failed at the beginning. A detail so bold, it seemed so easy to forget. Maybe it was just hiding a lot of truth within knowing

***
   Trust? What is trust?” I remember asking myself as another couple would stick their big heads in my face, displaying this sort of I’m a little crazy grin across their faces. When they were done, they would usually follow their introduction with a little white lie. Which sounded a lot like, “and you can trust me.” Only left with questions such as “Who were they?” and “What did they want?” They were the type of people who would surround themselves around me. The person whom I would end up calling mom, came off as vindictive to one sister, controlling to another, as for me I saw her as a challenge. When I would tell her that she is wrong, she would tell me that I was trying to pick a fight. 
    Her husband comes off as malicious, impulsive, a bit narcissistic, hypercritical, and viewed as slightly toxic. He carried the same mentality as a dog with behavioral issues. Avoiding what needs to be fixed. Honestly, they both had no problem lashing out and blaming me for their problems and then playing victim afterward. Never once have they apologized. I just got to the point of letting it happen and I accepted it. I had gotten used to it. Even though I knew deep down inside I had a gut feeling it wasn’t fair.

   What I considered to be my own emotions, what I knew as my thoughts, I was always made to feel like I was wrong. It left me feeling confused because she would always say “Trust your gut feeling!” At the same time, I was made to look like I had no idea what I was talking about. Like I was crazy. They would act as if I were to have made the whole thing up. It left me crying, upset. I would start by saying 
“you never listen! If you Got to know me…”
He would interfere telling me
“Not to speak that way” 
kicking me out. I would get even more upset and start to yell at them
“It’s not fair, You’ve Never seen me for who I am. YOU NEVER TRIED TO UNDERSTAND! YOU GUYS STOPPED, NOT ME” 

   While I stay silent has now become an issue, and I get in trouble for not speaking. Being called rude or disrespectful. Silenced and told to basically “shut up!” As it was considered a problem. Just for them to have me sent away for months. Forced not to speak. Having my freedom and rights to express taken away. Some Days id try, and when I would speak up, it would backfire and I’d be held down with restraints, medicated with 2 shots Not because I wanted it, but because the doctor had said so, placed in a room for hours, while they watched me closely in what they’d refer to as a one-to-one. Forced to not feel. To be told that it’s not okay. It honestly wasn’t much different than being home. The only difference is that I cared for those who only saw me as a mistake.
   I was going to turn 6 that year, or maybe 7 depending, I would witness something so shocking, It would have me frozen. I just stood there still as I watched my sister run after our new mom with a butcher knife. While she was screaming It kinda made me feel like I was watching the cartoon, Tom and Jerry. Then I heard our younger sister crying, screaming fearful, as she would say 
“No, Please Stop it. Please STOP! Please.” 
As tears rolled down her face. I looked at her as if it would be okay, placing her under the stairs in what we called a chubby. She went inside crying as she waited inside for me, scared of what would happen. reassuring her that it would be okay. I even promised her, while I slightly smiled. Deep down I was scared to pieces. 

    When our mom and sis would come back around I did something impulsively. I may add although I didn’t quite think it through then, my actions spoke for me. Before I knew it, I kicked and slid this white clothes basket with my foot in front of my sis tripping her. She fell flying into the air. It looked almost like she did a cartwheel in mid-air, as the knife flew forward out of her hand. 
   The thing was, I watched it all happen in slow motion. I didn’t know what else to do then. When I got our sister out of the cubby, reaching out my hand, a jester I assumed would let her know it’s okay to come out. Shortly after that the people in the ambulance came, and took our sister away. 
I was heartbroken. Not quite understanding whether she would be coming back. Now the only question I had was 
“Would we ever see her again?” 

I felt as though my sisters hated me, or so I thought. The best times I had with them was when my sisters would want to as they called it “hang out” with me, it would be fun, I loved it. The laughing and the dancing. It truly made me happy. And soon we became a Trio. That’s how the world would now and forever know us as. All would be great until one started taunting the other. Then I was forced to pick a side as one of them would call my name. As one would yell:-
“Monkey in the middle” 
Snatching the other’s favorite stuffed toy. I always thought it was a cruel thing to do. Sometimes, It was like they would always keep their friends away. I Never knew why either, I took it like they were embarrassed or probably they were afraid of their friends liking me. I know now, saying it out loud, sounds petty
****

   I never did see myself as a victim, well not until recently that is. Noticing that I have been very much victimized, not only that but also profiled and judged for a life I wasn’t in control of. When I was a toddler I was placed into the corrupt system of the ’90s. It was a real broken, unorganized manipulative system. It had me defined as a system kid and automatically labeled as problematic. So maybe the word victim isn’t a word I would use lightly, on its own I mean. I can say I’ve been victimized in more ways than one. It left me as an adult fearful. Scared of everything. Not fully realizing it was instinctively drilled into my head not. It wasn’t healthy. To understand how it was traumatic. I was traumatized. 
    I’ve lived a portion of my life unknown. In all truths, I never really gave a shit, so I didn’t even bother to ask any questions. I’ve always just tried to embrace what life threw at me, quietly accepting what they would say would be wrong with me. 
“Yes! Finally” I started to internally cheer. I would finally know a little bit more about myself. Feeling happy as now I knew one thing. It felt really good to know something that would be a part that made me. Of course, that feeling didn’t last long as I was fooled and misjudged. 

The Beginning before the end

"lIt truly did begin the same way it would have started, As another would politely say it ended before it could even start, and As one would be left as though it was only...*The Beginning Before The End."

   It began the same way it started, the wind blowing echoing in the distance, music playing softly in the background as my sister and I enjoyed each other's company, playing a hand in a card game. A moment that would have been surrounded by laughter and would soon be interrupted by drama her boyfriend would cause.l It was the night of August 16ths and the year of 2006, around 5:30 pm. Surprised by how oddly warm the evening was in the town of Plymouth Massachusetts.
"Hello 911 operator, what is the name of your emergency?"
"Hello, my name is-" As I begin to tell the operator my name I was interrupted by a strange muffled sound with an eerie feeling in the pit of my tummy. And there it was the same thing as they began to repeat the monologue.

"911 what is the name of your emergency? 
"Hello, ma'am? this is a 911 operator, How may I help you?"
I tried to talk but I was quiet, it was like I was gasping for air, choking. Maybe it was because I was struggling for air as I was being strangled by my sister's boyfriend.
"Hello, 911 Malam are you still there?"

The operator had asked hearing her loud and clear, but the bigger question was could she hear me. 
"STOP!" I yelled!
"Please stop it!" I cried!
"Hello?" 
"PLEASE Can nobody hear me?"
"HELP ME!"
I said softly as I started to cry. I shouted, I mean- I could have sworn I had. I know I heard myself speak. Now coming to think of it I could've just thought I did. Realizing afterward it was not out loud, but only in my head.

[Static noises continue as the phone cuts out]
*beep beep beep*

You have reached the-" yet compared to many Almost feel automated myself. "if this is a medical emergency Press 1 or stay on the line. I was fucking livid at this point. I thought this has to be rhetorical? There is no way this shit is happening. I'm going to die here. This has to be a fucking joke. "Do I have any other choice? Almost in a repeating cycle, I hear it again
"Hello, my name is..." 
"How may I help you"
Useless I felt, like every penny anyone had ever thrown out or dropped. The horrific sounds of static electricity had been Pulsing through my head, stuck ringing in my ears like a broken doll with its batteries draining. A noise I knew I would never get out of my head. Almost to a point of being brainwashed in many ways, hypnotized, or tricked. I muttered almost in an unsettling way, unsure how to feel at that moment, the truth was I felt like a fool, I thought quietly to myself, it all just happened in a blink of an eye, a split second. It felt like the beginning before the end.
"Hello ma'am are you still there?"
The operator had asked once more. I truly had forgotten that she was still on the phone, I softly whisper
"Ye-yes I'm still here"
Feeling hopeless by now, not knowing if my sister and I would make it out alive, and there it was again the corrupting sounds of static electricity, and the operator proceeds again with the
"911 my name is…"
"How may I help you"
I dropped the phone and screamed this time a noise came out of my mouth, finally unknown if I was heard or not.

   By now It was around 630 pm when my sister and I ended up at one of our neighbors' houses as we sat there on one of his lawn chairs, as my sister embraced the pure look of exhaustion and panic mixed with some high rating of fear upon her face. Catching her breath while she stares back over at me and then back to the grassy area all shocked. She knew real well she would be in deep shit for all this because she may have instigated or prolonged an irrational situation her boyfriend started. That was just how she was though, she would always feed into his manipulative "ACT."
   It was only seconds now they weren't so far away. Scared shitless at that point. I could hear the police cars racing down the street and ambulance sirens echoing in the distance getting louder by the second as they sped down sandwich street almost monitoring the distance between them and us. As discussed I looked at my sister and told her to be quiet. She nodded in agreement. When the officer walked up she had asked us::
"What happened here?"
"Which one of you two did this?" 

we both just sat there silently, first looking at each other then down at our feet not knowing what she was truly talking about, or to whom was she insinuating, I wanted to ask what was she referring to because we were the ones who called 911 but instead we remained silent for a few minutes Then the officer proceeded to ask again but this time with a slight attitude as she huffed she said
"Don't make me ask again I'll take you both down to the station, now which one of you two did this?"

   I looked over at my sister as she began to cry. I told her I loved her and not to worry it will be okay and I stood up and said…
"I DID- I DID IT"
scared and frightened after the fact as she cuffed my hands behind my back

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