It All Started With a Diary

truth|part 1

Warning: Violent acts including emotional, and physical abuse are discussed on throughout the chapter.

"I have crazy friends, so a lot of times when we're out, people recognize me on the street, but they will yell, 'This is Cameron Boyce!' and just run! They do that. Then I'm in the middle of the street with people looking at me."— Cameron Boyce (rest easy, sweet boy.❤️)

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Chapter 47
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"My dad, he came from a rough childhood. One filled with poverty, and violence on every block. His dad was in and out of jail, and his birth mother was a heroine addict who would beat my dad if he ever disturbed her 'calm'," Kade began, clasping his hands together. "I guess that was the start of it all."

I was eager to learn more about his family history, but at the same time, I dangerously anticipated the truth.

Kade propped himself against a tree stump, his eyes cast downward. "I remember the first time that it happened. It's the first memory I have of him, I think."

"He came home from a bar, wasted as always. He was angry because there was a football bet gone wrong. He was yelling at Susie, and I hated yelling, so I tried to leave the room. He didn't like that, so he..." his hands fell, clenching at his sides, eyes stuck on the tip of his shoe. "He beat me so bad that I couldn't go to school for a week and a half."

"Oh my god," slipped out of me.

I knew that this would be difficult to hear. But, I also knew that it needed to be heard, nonetheless. It wouldn't negatively alter my feelings for him, that was a fact. It would only help me understand him, and maybe even us better.

He drew his knees to his chest. "It carried on for years. It was like a cycle. I'd come home from school, get beaten for even looking at him, then repeat it until I managed to block some of it out of my mind. Didn't seem to work, I guess," he chuckled, his eyes glued to the grass.

"That son of a bitch was a heavy drinker...he wouldn't stop until he fell asleep. Those were the only good times, it seemed like. When he was asleep. He was vulnerable, weak, and I..." Kade's Adam apple bobbed in his throat. "I tried to kill him, with a pocketknife."

I bit on my tongue to hold back a gasp. A part of me stood terrified at what he just said, and the other part of me was too frightened to move.

His black hair grazed his eyes as he lowered his head. "I wish I could say that I regret it. I really do...but I don't."

"I was six or seven, I think. I saw it in a movie. This kid got rid of the bad guy, and everything was peachy after that. Everything was perfect. I wanted that, y'know? I wanted peace for Susie and I, even if it damned me for life. Killing him was the only way I could rid my family of him," he whispered, his gaze jumping between me and the grass.

My eyes welled up. "I understand." And, I did. As someone who suffered my years under abuse, I knew that I had felt so helpless. A rat stuck in a trap, in a way. No matter what you did, no matter how badly you fought...you felt that you couldn't get out. You could only bleed out, and wait to be freed from the trap, the abuse.

Only...there would be no life inside of you anymore. Even with air in your lungs, you'd never experience another freeing moment. You'd never see yourself the same, if you ever did in the first place. Just a hopeless pit of deep despair that you either climbed out of, or further sink into. There'd be no in between.

I could entirely understand why he considered the act as a child. There was nothing he could have done to stop the abuse, and when the first opportunity came to free yourself of the circumstances, you would take it before it slipped away.