Page 51 of Drowned In Silence

He has to be the one.

“What are you over there thinking about, Darling? Your face is all scrunched up and you look a thousand miles away,” Elliot asks, breaking the silence on the plane.

“Robert– or my ‘Father’ as I should call him. There’s no way he’s my bio-dad. Otherwise we would be half-siblings, not step. I just can’t wrap my head around it though. Who is my real dad then?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know he was my real father until I found the box.”

“I’m sorry. I can imagine that it’s more of a shock learning your real father is the same man you saved me from,” I tell him. I’m being as sincere as possible. I couldn’t fucking fathom that reality slap.

“It doesn’t change much,” Elliot growls and turns his attention to the window.

“What do you mean?”

“He still has to die. Whether it’s by your hands or mine. He will meet his end soon.”

He doesn’t even look at me when he says it, he just keeps staring out of his private window, clenching his fists in his lap.

Kill my ‘Father’.

I sit with this thought letting it sink into my mind and play with my cruel memories.

All the fucking memories I do have of him, are tainted and stained. Blood, abuse, rape. This can’t be how normal parents treat their kids. This isn’t a way to treat anyone, even if you aren’t a fucking parent.

I’ve never been a normal child, never had a ‘normal’ life, but I do know what it’s supposed to look like.

A mother who bakes and cooks for her family. A Father who goes to work and comes home tired, but still helps with the dishes. No fighting, no screaming. Children, scared of thunder who want to hide under the blankets during a bad storm until their mom comes in and holds them. School time, where the kid has to hurry and eat their cereal before the bus comes, hoping that there isn’t a bully on the same ride. The gross school lunches that are given out daily to the children who could care less what it tastes like. A teenager who swears she hates her parents, maybe even one big fight, before crawling into bed with them and whispering her apologies. A family pet who grows old as the kids grow, eventually dying and needing to be buried in the yard. The drive to a college campus where the mother cries for her baby leaving, and dad pretends he isn’t choked up and tearful.

I didn’t fucking get any of that shit.

No. I fucking got locked in a bedroom from the time I was able to speak. Cold showers multiple times a day without thepromise of a hot one, ever. I received bread and water, maybe some plain oats sometimes for breakfast, before I was supposed to lie back and spread my legs like a good bitch. I had people come into my room, lock the door behind them, and beat me until I lost consciousness. Kick me until I lost my stomach contents and pissed myself all over the dirty floor. They didn’t care if I screamed or cried– well they did. They liked it better when I did those things. They loved it when I put up a fight, when I tried to kick them and fight my way through the mental battle.

Then I decided to do it to myself.

I never thought there was a different way out for me. I didn’t think I could have a life full of things I’ve always wanted. It was always so far out of reach for me. I would have killed for a hot shower and a warm meal, but I knew I couldn’t get away with it. My father would find me, just like what happened. I would have gotten a job and saved money to get a GED, if anyone would hire me. But I knew they wouldn’t. No one wants to hire a prostitute, a whore who sells her body. I would have been good at retail, always forcing them to pay for the things I am trying to sell.

But now I have a chance.

If I kill my ‘Father’... I could start over. I could become a new person without any of the stupid shit I used to do. I wouldn’t be scared of becoming someone else and starting fresh while being hunted by a pious father and the ghost of my mother.

I could be Dynah.

“Then we kill him. Together,” I tell Elliot. He finally looks away from his window and cracks a smile.

“Together.”

Playing Games

Elliot

I would be theworst liar in history if I said that didn’t make me harder than a rock.

“Then we kill him. Together.”

Oh, how I’ve waited to hear those words from her since the day I met her.

When we arrive at the airport together, we are greeted by our parents. They are sitting in a black SUV with the windows up, but I know it’s them. I’d recognize my Mother’s waving hand anywhere.

“Boys! I’m so glad you're home!” She says, getting out of the car and strolling to us. She’s dressed up in an all black pantsuit, with high heels and a full face of makeup. They must have been going out for dinner or something.