I'm Ok

Chapter 3

"How old were you when you started helping your mother like this?" My fifth birthday, I watched them sing happy birthday then I watched him pull her out of the kitchen by the hair. She kicked and screamed, he told her to shut the fuck up not to ruin his princesses birthday.

"I was five." I keep the answer short to keep the memory at bay.

"Five?" Her voice shot up in disbelief, "they pulled you into their world before you could see your own."

They? No him, he did, she was helpless. There is no they, all him. He would beat her even before I was born, she tried to hide it, so no it wasn't they, it was him. I hate him and everything he did to us.

"He killed women and brought me into that life, he raised his hand to the woman he was supposed to love and protect. He did it all for no fucking reason, just so he had a punching bag." Anger rose in my voice.

"Do you still blame him? Have you not yet accepted-"

"Accepted what? He killed women, made me help get them. When that wasn't enough I had to kill them, all the while he beat the hell out of my mother! You want me to accept some bullshit! To accept the killings! The beating! The threats!" I noticed her eyes no longer look into mine but passed my head, her eyes hardened when I moved my head. Something filled her eyes, something cold.

"No, I just think it would better for your mind to try and accept your part." Her eyes and voice told two different stories. One anger the other a soft mellow tone. "Sheele have you kept up the writing in the journal? You have another court hearing your mother has asked for your return to school, I would like to use your journal as an example of your rehabilitation. Your mother believes you are mentally fit to join a school and I do too. This will help your start in the real world, some time away from your mother will let you think for yourself."

I haven't been inside a school since fourth grade, Mom taught me wrer she could and my online schooling. Going back to school in a new place where no one knows me or 'him', I could have a normal life. Friends, teachers, other people to interact with, I can have that. Do I want that? Should I want that for myself? Do I deserve that? I killed those women too, I have as much blood on my hand as he does.

"Do you know what school I would attend?"

"Depends on the court, there no guarantee you'll be permitted to go. My notes and testimony might not be enough, it's why I asked for your journal your words will speak louder than mine."

That damn journal, I stopped writing in it months ago. My therapist wanted weekly updates of my nightmares and full on stories of what he made me do, what I wanted to do. I hate that journal I want to burn it, it holds everything I've done, everything he has done. Every name of all my victims, the police never found their IDs I stole and kept all of them. One day I want to go back to all of those families and tell them how sorry I am, I know it will never make up for what we have done. I want them to have complete closure, not just for me but them as well.

"When do you need it?"

"Before your court hearing. Well, we are out of time." I stand up off the couch

When I leave the room Dave is leaning on the wall by the door waiting. I walked in front of him and folded my arms across my chest.

"What are you a seventeen-year-old "bad boy?" I use my fingers to put quotes around the word bad boy.

"No, I'm on guard." what? No witty joke?

"Can't you be on guard in the waiting room? you know the room for waiting. I'd be twenty feet away." His eyes narrow, an image of my father's face flash before me. "Do you have to look at me with his eyes?" His muscles relax and his eyes soften.

"Sorry, you know I would never treat you the way that he has, I would never hurt your mother either. I love the both of you, I just haven't gotten used to-" I could listen to this sad apologize or just put him out of his misery.

"I get it, it's not every day you move in with the job, fall in love with the job, and protect her because her daughter is a serial killer." My eyes drift off from the ashamed and disappointed in myself, I'm the reason my mother is living like this. "What made my mom so special? You could have lost your job."

We walked out to the waiting room than on to an elevator.

"When I first met your mother, she was just another person I had to help hide, I thought once you two were safe I could move on with the rest of my job. I was put on permanently, it really did piss me off but then I read your file." He looked at me with eyes that were filled with regret and despair, as if they were sad. "I just wanted to hold you both and tell you he'll never hurt you. I want to kill him to hurt him every way he hurt you. After that I saw your mother differently, I saw her as a woman who survived life with that man." He spat the word man as if he shouldn't of had the privilege to be called that.

Our car ride home was silent, peaceful, and calm. Unlike the ones with my father, he'd have the music turned to the max volume and there would either be a dead body or a new girl in the trunk. I can still hear them kicking and screaming, if they ever woke up, after a while, it became my peace. If they were kicking and screaming it meant they were still alive, if they were silent I would never know if it was just another car ride from school. How could he look so calm knowing they were there scared and alone.

It became my peace.