Disclosure

Prologue

I was born with a round face, round rosy cheeks and red lips. I will never get over people thinking I’m as innocent as a child. Because they will never find out the truth about me; the hell that I have been through or the things that I’ve done. Someone special to me once told me to never lose my innocence. It was the thing that attracted him to me- my innocence. He knew that my mind could be dirty but unlike him I could always see the light at the end of the tunnel. And like he suspected, being close to him made that light disappear. I was his light for so long but after what I had seen, the light in me vanished. I only recaptured it by leaving, which was what he was wanting the entire time, which was ironic because even after I left my light was very dim and never truly there. The optimist in me had failed and the reality of the world set in and made me realize through many painful lessons that I was the one who was delusional. People like them- no, us- for people like us there is no happy ending, no light at the end of the tunnel; bad things happen to good people and even worse things happened to us over and over and over again in a never ending chain.

That was my reason for leaving, because being with him was breaking me. He tried to leave so many times and not just town but the earth, and I had talked him out of it, sometimes just by talking to him about my day. I had come to terms with his death too many times to count when he wasn’t dead yet. And he was so baffled about why I cared about him and all I knew was the gut feeling that I couldn’t leave him alone. When he accused me of wanting to fix him I answered back that I knew he couldn’t be fixed, which was true. Even if I did fix him something would happen and break him again.

Our relationship was a painful, hard and long one. It wasn’t nice. It often involved blood and guns and rape. Abortions were considered more than once. Passing out drunk was a highlight in his day. I learned to drink while I was with him. I learned many things during our time together. Like knowing if you’re being followed or watched even if you didn’t know what or who you were looking for. I learned to turn paranoia and adrenaline into hyper-awareness of my surroundings. Knowing the best tactics in a four to one person fight and how to take a hit- or twenty. More than once I learned to recognize the signs that I was going to pass out from pain and slowly lay down rather than collapsing and risking yet another head injury. I now know that my chance of ever having a child with anyone is 5%.

And all this because I honestly believed in loving someone unconditionally. Of which I still believed in. I still loved him even though I left and I knew that he still loved me, we just couldn’t be together. Neither one of us believed in true love or everlasting love. But we knew love when we felt it and believed that it was worth the journey of getting to the end.

But this isn’t a story about the hell I had experienced; it’s about the experiences I have after the hell- the aftermath and my search for the light that had disappeared the minute I met Alex; I just hadn’t realized it yet.

You see the reason for all the pain and blood wasn’t just because fate wanted to play its cruel jokes on us, though that was a major player, but mainly because Alex was in the Witness Protection Program. He was placed in my town when he was nine. We didn’t meet until we were both seventeen. It only took three months before we got hot and heavy, and four more months for him to start opening up to me. He told me about his past, not all at once but over the period of our relationship, what he had seen, though he only vaguely described it and what had been happening to him since then. His father... wasn’t human. He was a monster and went after his own family and eventually me by extension. The hell only lasted two years until I finally decided to relocate after much talk with Alex. It was the perfect time; after all, we had just celebrated the death of his father. Drunk driving meeting a semi truck does wonders for people. I left and Alex let me. We expected no further contact between us to occur at all, which was what happened.

I had lived in California my whole life, been raised in a strong Christian family, and sheltered from life and its horrors. I now moved to Boston hoping to face something better. I changed my name, moved without warning to my family and started music school. I got an apartment and a job as a bartender, seeing how I had the expertise to be one.

These are my experiences, stories and adventures after escaping hell.

1. After Hell

My alarm was annoyingly loud, especially since I was already awake. I just threw my stuffed turtle across the room and hit the alarm clock off. I hadn’t slept soundly since a long time ago and had learned to function on little sleep. My new neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate the screaming every night. I had already done enough research for my project to get started on it this afternoon after classes. I bookmarked the last website and got off the computer. It was shower time.

Showers were both pleasant and painful, though I had gotten used to the painful part after a few weeks of having to deal with it. Across from the shower was the sink and mirror where I could see the scars on my back perfectly unless the mirror was steamed from the shower. Scars covered my back; sometimes they even spelled something out, but were mostly slashes from bull whips or knives, some were from bullets and even some from burns, but those scars go away pretty easily so the ones that were visible were pretty recent, like in the last year. The bright side to showers was that I could sing in them and I loved the feeling of cleaning myself even though I felt I could never actually be clean ever again.

Once I got to school, by way of the bus, it was eight-twenty. Ten minutes until my class started but it would take me nearly ten minutes to actually make my way across campus and arrive at my classroom. It was the largest campus I had ever been on which was going to be a bother once it started snowing.

I wore my daily attire, graphic t-shirt, jeans, scarf and a cap. It was only October and it was unseasonably cold. I walked past people and groups chatting, not bothering to look up to see whether anyone wanted to hear about my life story. I was here to study and try to move on with my life, not make friends and expose them to the harsh reality of the world.

I got to my first class which was choir. I was studying to be a voice major with a music management minor. I wanted to be a singer most of all. Getting the classes I wanted helped when I had already done all my general education at the community college back home. I also took orchestra playing the violin and band, playing the flute and saxophone. I was taking another class learning the guitar. Music history classes were on my list to take and I already had one music theory class.

Once we were all seated the choir director entered and settled us down. “Now you all were informed at the beginning of the year of our bi-annual choir tour. We’ll be traveling to Los Angeles for a four day trip. Next semester’s tour will be in Europe, but for this semester you’re just going to have to deal with California.” Some of the students groaned and some looked excited at the prospect of traveling...freshman. “We’ll be performing each day of our tour. Two festivals, one charity concert and an invitation to the concert hall our last night. The festivals will be during the day and we will be attending an off-Broadway performance of In The Heights on the second night. The rest of the time will be free time, available to you to use at your own disposal.” I wasn’t thrilled about the fact we were going to California, but I always enjoyed performing and I had heard that In The Heights was supposed to be amazing. So I decided to make the most of it, that is, until he mentioned roommates. “We’ll be staying in a hotel so I need each of you to write down four people, including yourselves, on this clipboard I will be passing around. From there we will decide the rooming situation.”

The class started bursting with noise as people shouted across the room to confirm roommates. I just sat there, rather dumbfounded. I had no friends in this choir, let alone the entire university. I mean, I barely remembered the name of the girl that sat next to me. And the whole idea of having to sleep in a room with three other people didn’t appeal to me- or even seem possible. I couldn’t get through one night without talking in my sleep or screaming myself awake. Another thought bombarded my mind- sharing a bed. I moved and shifted to no end when I slept. I guess I wasn’t going to be sleeping those entire four days. I sighed out my exasperation of the whole situation.

When the clipboard did reach me I wrote down my own name and no one else’s. I wished that I would maybe make an odd number and land a room by myself, but that didn’t seem likely. I glanced down once more at my pathetic signature before passing it on, wishing that I wouldn’t get any looks from the girl beside me.

The day got better as it went on; no one talked to me and I got an A on the midterm in my music theory class. In my music history class I was once more reminded of the project that was due the week after next. We were supposed to work in pairs but the class had an odd number this time and I got to work on mine alone. I got started on it once I got back to my apartment, knowing I had enough time to get an idea of what I wanted to do for the visual aid and get two hours of studying in before I had to go to work.

I was bartending that night, on a Monday night. I got Mondays and Tuesdays, supposedly the lightest nights they had, which was why I got them. I couldn’t exactly explain why I had gotten so good at mixing drinks when I still hadn’t reached my twenty-first birthday, but it was fine...for now.

We didn’t have to wear uniforms just whatever you have that won’t scare the customers and a black half apron. I wore what I wore to school that day except I braided my hair in a few braids around my head. I had always been a good listener and very empathetic which helped once the regulars got used to me enough to complain about their shitty lives. That’s why I tried to leave my cynicism at home so I could pretend that their life was more pathetic than mine.

The first three hours went fine. It was slow but once it got past eight and the band for that night started playing the work started picking up. Nothing interesting happened and I went home a little after three. I had to start saving for the trip so all my tips went toward that while the paycheck went towards food and rent.

My days seemed to be pretty boring, but nights were the worst of it. Something about the darkness and being able to imagine so many possibilities of what could be hiding in it; or the memories of what were hiding in it. I had become too jumpy and wired to exist calmly in the darkness. It was only when I had locked all five of the locks on my apartment door and turned on all the lights, checking every closet and corner did I relax. I had to remind myself every night that the man I abhorred was dead. I had seen his cold and breathless corpse. I breathed another uneasy breath as I sank down onto my bed. I noticed that my hands were shaking and wondered when it would go away, or if it ever would.

Instead of going straight to sleep, I poured myself into my homework and studying. I couldn’t practice any of my music since the neighbors were asleep and instead worked on the project a bit more. After another hour, I had ideas scribbled and sketched over numerous sheets of paper and were hanging in random places around my apartment. I tended to throw myself into whatever I could instead of thinking of Alex.

I lay down to go to sleep and put my earphones in and turned it on shuffle. I slept with my light on; figured it wouldn’t bother anyone. The second song to come on was a song that Alex and I had made love to for the last time. My mind and heart retched away from the memory; I didn’t want to have to deal with that kind of pain. But still, the sweet memory swirled into my mind and I closed my eyes. I remembered his gentle and urgent kisses; his grasp made me feel he would never let me go. I longed for him now. I wanted to feel his warmth, his body on top of mine filling every inch of me to the point that I could think of nothing else. My hands groped for a face that wasn’t there. Tears swam into my vision and the sob I knew would come broke into my chest.