A collection of Monologues

Mother

Mother, It’s always the same nightmare.

The same scene, the same faces. Repeating on a loop and never ending.

Except, this nightmare, isn’t a dream, it’s reality. This nightmare of mine is the same thing I come to see every time I stupidly decided, to look out the window.

I could almost say it’s taunting me. Mocking me, filling my head only to remind me there isn’t anything down here. People such as me aren’t supposed to be blessed by the light.

I’m the child of the island. The Island of the criminally insane.

The psychopaths, the serial killers, the child molesters, all of those scary, scary people Mother. All of them gathered in this filth and I’m the soul embodiment of them all. Born and raised in a hellhole.

Mother you have long since gone, and I can’t even remember what you looked like. Not that it would make a difference anyway. You must have hated me, you must have, for having me only then to kill yourself afterwards. Nowadays, I blame myself more than you, Mother.

But it’s been years, so many years that I’ve seem to have lost my heart and soul, or whatever little part I had left of it. It’s floated of somewhere , I might not see it again.

So many years that the scars have been buried under more scars and stinging wounds are only reminders I’m still alive.

As morbid as it all is, I treasure the pain, it’s the only thing that keeps me here, although it’s questionable if I want to be here, mother.

The past 18 years down in this pit have been life for me, raped and used. Locked up and tortured. My body has grown used to it, the feel of strange men, and being held by rough hands.

It’s all I have, Mother.

No one even knows I am here, except the inmates. They all come and go so quickly, there is never a need to account for any of them.

So these chains you made that keep me bound and tied, I’ll love them and beg for more, since there isn’t anything else.

Although it’s difficult to say, from behind these rotten bars, whether the chains would be enough for me, but since I feel them, I feel them bite into my flesh, I feel the pain they provide. It’s almost like your grasp, it may be just as warm and inviting, this cage and those chains.

Even if the opportunity presents itself, to run away and leave it all behind. Would I want to?

I’ve heard of the outside, the life beyond these endless waters. I’ve heard all the tales.

The insane men sing the songs when the sun goes down, almost like a desperate howl of a dying dog.

They sing of the things out there, of how large the world is.

All I’ve known are the waters I see, anything beyond them would confuse me.

But If it so happened, I could leave, would I? Mother, I don’t know if I should. Mother, if only I could.

But maybe Mother, thoughts like these aren’t so good for me.