The Beacon [h.s]

1

Nyla West
(nai-lah)

Anger.

A feeling that stays within me. Boiling rage that grows but patiently waits for the moment I allow it to spill out from the seeps of my body.

Numb.

A feeling which suppresses so much of my emotion so I can portray myself as the bright and perfect girl to everyone else.

Sadness.

A feeling I wish could go away, to leave me alone, to let me be happy for once. And a real happy, not the fake happiness I've become a professional at faking.

That pretty much sums up what it feels like to be Sol Nyla West. And to think with a first name like Sol, which also means the sun, I would so easily portray the bright happy girl, but I've come to be the complete opposite.

Given that, I don't like being called by my first name, not after Dad left. He left me with my mother who never fails to remind me how much pain I put in her life and how I'm not worth any of it.

My mother is a drunk and I've basically had to take care of her and myself since I was seven. I'd always wonder how I made it to the age of nineteen with that level of stress and worries at such a young age. As a child you are supposed to be loved and cared for by your parents, given toys, fed properly, had birthday parties. But my childhood consisted of taking care of Mother, giving her alcohol when she demanded, forgetting to eat sometimes since I was too consumed with attending to her needs, and on birthdays nothing was celebrated, it was just another excuse for her to get drunk again.

The only break I had was school. But even then, I
worried every second that I would come home to find Mother dead on the couch from drinking too much. I always saw the kids in my classes getting picked up by their parents, receiving hugs and kisses from each other. I'd long for that type of care, Mother never hugged me. It was then I learned that not everyone's parents either leave you or is a careless alcoholic.

As I grew up, she only worsened. I knew it was abuse, verbal and mental, never physical. It's her words that were enough to mentally torture me. She makes me feel guilt even when she's wrong, she makes me pity her and forces me to take in every insult that comes my way. Her words hurt and I'm not even allowed to show it. Numb, it's where the feeling started.

Toxic is too nice of a word to describe my mother.

But I have to say she wasn't always this bad. When Dad was here, she acted a little more civil, even though she still drank, at least she hid it from him. Though he suddenly left when he realized his life was going nowhere with my mother, although she constantly tells me that he left because I was an unwanted child. I'm the reason she doesn't have a husband and I don't have a father anymore, she tells me.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss my dad everyday. I don't hate him for what he did, because he was the only person who always made me feel wanted and loved.

I remember a birthday of mine where he bought me a toy and told me to hide it from Mother. He knew she'd take it, she didn't like seeing me happy. It was a yellow care bear that had a sun on its stomach. I still have it to this day. Dad said it reminded him of me because of my first name. He was the only one to call me Sol, he told me I was his sun, his light.

He must've not seen my light anymore since he left me when I was seven. I don't know where he is now, dead or alive. I've never gotten a call, he's never came back since the day he left. I've never searched for him, my young age being the main reason for that. I find myself wanting to look for him now that I'm older, but there's also a part of me that knows he doesn't want me.