I am writing the final chapters of finding corey. Thank you all for being supportive. I am sure corey appreciates this as well ❤
I have come a mighty long way Gary. Gone are the days of my childhood and teenage life. I have started to enjoy my youth now. I do not see my father with the same eyes I used to back then. I can’t hate him. All I can do is show him what he didn’t show me and hope that he too can change. He finally confessed one day that “he knows he was not there for us when we were children and he is trying to make up for it.” I have changed and the situation around me has changed. I now smile sometimes but I no longer have hate in me. Disturbia is gone and all that came with it died that day. I have called my new life “Victorious” after the person who gave me a new life, God “my victorious.” It takes one step from you to make God move ninety nine steps towards you. If change is possible for a person like me then truly there is a God out there. Let me paint a picture for you on my way out. It’s something I wrote. I called it “Sunlight”.
Clouds race above me, going to where no eye can see,
Some are as dark as the night ahead,
Some smile with the tenderness of angels,
So beautiful they seem!
Yet so evil at heart!
They cover that, which I seek,
The desire of my heart,
My personal dictators; standing in the path of my happiness.
Oh cursed clouds, have you not tormented me enough?
Have you not seen the tears in my eyes?
Have you not felt the frost that covers my life?
Are you so blind that you cannot see?
I have been dead to myself and alive to you.
You cloud of loneliness, open yourself and give me what is rightfully mine.
Depart from me; leave me to bask in the light of warm affection.
Leave me in the shadow of my destiny.
Can you not see that the love of my life shines brightly for me?
I have waited so long for his warm embrace.
My heart has searched but has not felt warmth like his.
His Midas touch!
His touch, gentle like the palm of a woman.
His warmth, soothing like the caress of velvet on the skin.
The softness of his words, comforting as a mothers touch.
The firmness of his muscles, my macho man!
His beauty, my valiant prince!
All that I need he has in abundance.
He is all that I need.
I do not grieve when he sets in the west because I know,
He will rise in the east with his bright smile.
Accursed cloud, my life was too dark until that day,
Set yourself aside my Egyptian plague,
There is no room for you now.
Sunlight has come to meet me.
He waits for me and he will never let me go.
Gary, my past tried to creep up on me and consume me but I had tasted freedom and happiness and I wasn’t going to let it go. I saw everyone differently, I looked not at their flaws but at whom they are. I now have friends, I now have friends Gary! Love lives in me now. I now love my father despite our past. I go everywhere he goes. On holidays you will always find us sleeping on the banks of a lake while we are fishing. That’s one sport he can never beat me in no matter how many fish he bribes. He saved me one time when a crocodile almost bit my head off while we were on a fishing trip. He chased it away, hitting it with his fishing rod, while I was in shock. My hero, my daddy! I will never forget that day. Sunlight came into my life and darkness departed. I do not blame him for what he did, it’s the same way he was raised but I am glad he changed when the time came and that we mended the dents of the past before they could harm all of us in the future. I miss my siblings; I still haven’t seen any of them since they left. Though I miss them, one day I will see them and it will be back to square one, pillaging mommy and daddy for candy. Love conquers all sin. Change is possible, it just depends how badly you want it. Bye bye Gary.
Everyday I would study my prey, the day of vindication was almost at hand. We were approaching my birthday in November and that day had lost all sense of meaning in my life. I natured my anger until very few good words could come out of me. All the years I had endured were finally going to end. Six years of desiring a girl who then rejected me were going to end. I was sitting in the library reading when I felt the sudden urge to go to the toilet. I walked with my usual slow and composed step while my face showed no joy. I ascended the stairs and got to the first floor of the high school block. There was a toilet right at the end of the corridor but I felt the urge to go to the second floor toilet. I ascended the stairs again and reached the second floor. I entered the corridor and just as I was about to go into the toilet I picked up the voice of someone who was talking. His voice grabbed my attention. I started following his voice and entered into the class his voice was coming from. I looked at him from head to toe and listened to what he was saying. He was talking about God! I smiled because I wanted to start an argument with him about how fake Christianity was. I walked in and sat down and started listening thinking of ways to attack him. Subconsciously I began to listen to what he was saying. He spoke of how God was looking for a person who he can use for his works. He said, “God is looking for a person who wants to carry his banner but there is no one who wants to.” I sat there and debated with myself. I was a catholic; I went to church every Sunday and said the catholic prayers while admiring girls in the congregation. I was convinced I was a Christian even though I didn’t totally believe in the God business. I asked myself a question, do you know what it was Gary? Yes, I think I have a clue. You asked yourself “why is God not using me?” Bingo Gary, bingo! Why was he not using me, I was a Christian. I prayed and I read the bible at times but why not me. Does he hate me too? Was it that when one father hates you, the rest hate you also?
I sat there debating with myself and then the guy’s last words crept into me. He said “if there is anyone who wants to give his or her life to God and carry his banner, come and let me pray with you.” Instantly, time froze for me. I was there, alone and I began to think of all I had planned, all I had seen, felt. All I had experienced. All the pain I kept inside. All the sick things I had partaken in. All the lust and adultery I had committed. I sat there and tears almost crept out of my eyes. I wanted to walk away but I could not move. Something was wrong with me; I didn’t know how to change it. I didn’t want to be the person I was anymore; I could not live like that anymore. I wanted all of it to go so that I could learn how to smile again. I didn’t even remember the last time I smiled. I wanted to see the sun rise and set and say that it was beautiful. I wanted to be human again! I spoke in a low voice and said “if there is a God out there, you have seen my suffering; you have seen me and what I desire. I cannot live like this anymore. If you are out there God, help me change. I cannot live like this anymore. Can I believe in you because I have nothing else to believe in?” After saying those words I stood up and walked to the front. The guy knew me and called me by name and asked me what was going on. I said to him “everything is wrong in my life, I just want it fixed. I do not know anyone else to turn to. I have been covered in chicken blood, I want to murder people, and I have so much hatred. I just cannot carry this anymore.” He nodded his head and told me to lift my hands into the air and to repeat after him. I repeated after him saying “Lord Jesus, I come before you today, acknowledging that I am a sinner. I have sinned against you father and against people. I have fallen short of your glory. I have sought to kill men, to rape girls. I have so much anger and hatred in me, so much deceit and lust. I confess Lord that I am a sinner. I ask that you may forgive me of my sins today. I ask that you may redeem me from my sins and give me a new life. I ask that you may give me a new life in you and deliver me from my past ways. I receive you into my life and into my heart right now Lord Jesus. I acknowledge you as my personal Lord and Saviour. I pledge my life to you now and forever. I say this prayer in your name Lord Jesus, amen.”
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I said was “I feel different”. A smile broke out on my face for a brief moment. On November 15 2004 at exactly midday, I gave my life to God, 14 days from my birthday. I finally chose to let it go and let the past be the past. I began my transformation, my rebirth, my new beginning. I walked out of that room feeling changed and beginning to feel the burdens of my heart being lifted. Finally I had found the change that I so drastically wanted. Finally peace had settled into my heart and my old skin was pealing off. My evil twin vanished and never came back. The last words in my heart before I died were “Please God take my heart and please do not break it. It is all I have left of me.” Finally, I died. My life, that I had named “Disturbia” had finally ended. It was all over Gary. I was free!
I was going down Gary, I knew it, and I could feel it. I was now delusional; I was now bitter and unable to trust. I kept to myself and did not want to be touched by anyone, not even mommy. Every sense of insecurity, every emotion and every sickened desire was at its peak. I got transferred to a private college and that made my academic life more interesting. Coming from a boy’s school straight into a mixed school was a prospect that came onto me too fast. My father had finally resolved to pay for my school fees for the first time since the day I was born. The only reason I think he supported that was because I had passed my final exams in the previous year. Life at the college was different. Members of the opposite sex were bountiful and that in itself was a mild version of Temptation Island for me. Everywhere I looked I admired the beauty of girls. The brightness of their clothes, the tone of their skin and all the scent of their perfumes. I began to silently plot and devise ways to achieve my satisfaction. The first person on my list was my father. I still wanted to stab him the way I wanted to before. I was going to achieve my satisfaction by seeing him bleeding and lying in a pool of his own blood just like my heart was. Mommy was going to be different. I wanted to hang her. I wanted hide in the sealing right on top of her bedroom door and drop a nose through a hole straight onto her and break her neck as she walked in. Her suffocating would bring me satisfaction after all; most of the life in me had been sucked out of me. My siblings were to suffer a painful death for leaving me. I wanted to shoot them using a bow and arrow. The arrow was going to pierce their hearts. That pain they would feel when the arrow entered their hearts, their crying and agony would satisfy me after all, they pierced me when they left.
My cousin’s heads were going to hang. Like the grim reaper in the night, I was going to come, one after another, covering their mouths and cutting open their throats. I would leave them gasping for air then come back for their heads. My satisfaction would be fulfilled by seeing them in their dying moments just like I was. Those girls who rejected me, all of them, were going to accidentally fall and break their necks. All of them! I knew of their whereabouts everyday and I knew where to catch them and how to stage every accident. My satisfaction would be fulfilled by seeing them falling just like I was. I would find peace knowing that people have seen my pain, they have understood my struggle. I would finally find peace having known this. I had it all mapped out, my teeth were sharpened for piercing the skin of my victims. All that was left was the perfect timing. I knew all about my victim’s whereabouts. The girls where unfortunate that I would know every aspect of their lives including everything they are wearing. Stalking had become such an addictive habit that it birthed in me sexual desires and lusts. My desires would be met, I was confident in that conviction.
Days at school were long and boring. I did not blend in much with the social structures at school. I kept to myself and a few classmates that I spoke to. Books were the order of the day while I silently kept track of girls who I found to be most attractive. Two fitted my requirements list. They were both so beautiful, so gorgeous I dreamt of nothing more than them being in my arms as I violated them over and over again before killing them. Each time I starred at them I experienced the moment I was lusting for. They were best friends and I began to propose my undying love to both of them. One did not know about my intentions with the other and vice versa. My tongue, so sweet, my gifts, so romantic! I misled them into thinking I was the one for them. They however finally discovered that I was trying to get to both of them at the same time and confronted me about it. They made a scene in public, cursing and mocking me. I stood silent feeling the urge to strike and kill but my conscience told me to wait until they were alone and vulnerable. I walked away laughing as if all they had said was somehow amusing. They posted all the letters I had written them on the school notice board for all to see. I loved the publicity; I loved how people would laugh at me. I knew that it was building up my anger and ruthlessness for the day that my prey will fall into my hands. They were going to pay for rejecting me, for humiliating me and for refusing to give me what I wanted. They were not going to fall accidentally like the others but they were to suffer a more heinous death. I was going to catch them at school, lure them to a private room under the pretence of me asking for forgiveness. Subdue and restrain them. Then I would beat them to death like I beat the banana tree, one after another. No screaming because their mouths would be sealed shut by super glue. Their hands tied to their backs and their eyes wide open to see how much affection I had for them. They were the last on the list of people to die. They were going to seal the deal before I killed myself. After my father has bled, my mother has hung, my sisters have pained and all have perished, then I would kill myself.
I would now lie and wait like a lion for the day that I would show the world that I was not a woman but that I was a monster. I would lie and wait for the time of vindication.
Corey, when you say; “you were the loose end to the rope that had to be cut off”, what do you mean. I am so glad you asked Gary. Now can I ask you a question before I answer your question? Of course Corey, shoot. Gary, have you ever been in a place where you are the odd one out, the one who is destabilizing the equation? Yes, I have been in that situation a few times. Excellent, then you will understand what I am about to tell you. There is no way I can make you believe, all I can do is tell you as it is and hope that you find the conviction in yourself to believe what I am telling and going to tell you. Let me paint a picture for you. Listen carefully!
Yesterday, oh yesterday. You held me mommy, you held me in your arms. Yesterday you taught me all that I knew; you were my father and mother. Yesterday you showed me the affection only you could. Today I have changed; I have lost all that you taught me yesterday. You taught me love, I now know hate. You taught me not to steal but I now want to destroy. You taught me not to desire evil but all I see now is the evil desire burning in my eyes. Why didn’t yesterday build a better today mommy? Why did yesterday die to yesterday and today uncover my nakedness? Why did today rob me of yesterday’s peace? It was him, that dark star in my life. It was him, the Egyptian pharaoh who tormented me through my lifetime. It was him, that man; he robbed me of my today. He tarnished my yesterday to give me hell today. My thoughts blow with the wind, I can no longer see where I am going, and the compass I used yesterday does not work anymore. I do not know where to go now. You do not understand mommy, that man destroyed me. He made me an enemy unto myself. He created me, he made me, and he is my father. My tears stained my pillow, cracked my cheeks and flooded my mouth. The salt in my tears made me taste pain. Lash after lash, my body cried in agony, seeking mercy and peace. My hand took not because it wanted but because it needed to. Day by day the drums of his approach would sound and I would flee to my bedroom. Living in terror because that man was near. I held a knife in my hand seeking revenge but I could not touch him. How could I kill that which you love, how could I take from you that which meant a lot to you? My today is dark, it has no meaning. All the words are countless and void. Repetitive like the sounding of the church bell at midday. Booming in my ears yet I could no longer hear the message they carried. I am blind, I am numb, I am deaf, and I am no more. There is no tomorrow for me in this life. I die today so that I do not have to see my self tomorrow. I die today so that the vision of that man may be fulfilled, that my evil twin may rejoice, and that I may be at peace because I can no longer carry the burden of hate, lust, perverseness, anger and depression in my heart. You will not see me tomorrow. You will weep tomorrow; you will finally see why I hated that man. You will tear your shirt in agony; you will experience what I went through. You heart will bleed; my burden will then become your burden for you will have finally seen and experienced the life that I lived. The life of rejection, depression and fear. My today will become your today, your tears will cut your cheeks, and your voice will shake mountains. Your weeping will carry your resentment. I shall not speak anymore, my life must end. I am embracing my tomorrow where ever it will be. Live your today well and see you in your tomorrow.
That was my suicide note Gary. It was me Gary. It was me. I was not man enough to do what I said I would do. I was weak; I was a woman like all those boys said. I was the weakest link in the equation. My father was right to beat me; I deserved no comfort, my flesh needed to be torn off just to show how worthless I was. Such were my thoughts at that time Gary. Imagine telling yourself that everyday and try to visualize the results! I grabbed my combat knife and put the note on my bed for my mom to read when I am gone. It was time for me to walk onto death row. Looking through the glass, I could see my father, my evil twin, all the people who had ever hurt me, my mother, my siblings, some of my cousins, everyone. My eyes closed embracing the chill of the moment as the apex of the knife was placed on top of my chest. I said “Goodbye” but I could not push the knife in. I opened my eyes and the knife was still in my hands. I could not end my misery; I did not have it in me to take my own life. Anger rose up in me with burning fury and I thrust the knife into the door and sat onto my bed clutching the hair on my head. My evil twin was laughing, “coward, woman, you are just like your father, weak, idiot.” Pictures of me running away from my father and him following me and lashing me popped into my head. The image of when I almost killed him popped in. All the girls who had rejected me because I was weird, I had a big head or I was too short came into my head. My head spun in confusion. An evil grin covered my face as I felt the urge to now kill everyone who ever hurt me or came against me. My father, my mother, my siblings, some of my cousins, the girl who said I was too short, the girl who said I was weird, the girl who said I had big head and the girl who told me to get off her case. All of them, they had to die. I wanted to cut out their hearts and feed them to the dogs. I wanted to drink their blood, to leave them hanging naked as they had left me. They were going to pay, big time!
It was time for the locust to eat the man, it was time for the zebra to chase and topple the lion. It was now time for me to take my last stand. The time of my fall was at hand. The dawn of my death was shedding its light into my heart. Liberation was coming! I could feel that something was going to shift my life completely. But I did not know what it was.
Dark times came along. I have always been an exceptional actor Gary, I won’t lie to you. I knew how to act as if nothing was wrong. I would put on an act; smile for the camera but deep inside I was saying something else. At school, I seemed like a harmless fly but the few who knew me from observation said something totally different. The days were becoming hard. My mind was split, one side was sane and the other insane. I pictured myself as Smeagle from the Lord of the Rings movie. There was always another part of me, the dark side. My evil twin who desired nothing more than destruction and personal gain. My thoughts rolled like gears, I found myself talking to myself as if I was talking to another person. I cannot say I drew back from society because I never had a social life to start off with. However, I can make one thing very clear; society was at the mercy of my hands. Everyone I looked at was either to be killed or to be violated. My tongue was so deceptive, so misleading, and as slippery as that of a lurking viper. I would look at mommy, even though I was filled with so much love for her, I wanted to kill her. I looked at my father; I didn’t believe he was my father. He was more of an Egyptian plague that had been thrust through time. He had to die for being who he was in my life. Alcohol had taken its root in my life. I never enjoyed drinking; I even failed to see what was so tasty about a larger. It was no longer about the taste of alcohol but it was about the effect. My mind would be so free, so light and I was free to fly and dream. The harsh reality of life was not so evident. The anger, the hatred for my father was not so real when I was drunk. I would find it easier to laugh, to smile and to share jokes with myself. I would come home in my cousin’s hands because I was too drunk to walk. Such a common sight it was for me.
Talking to my other personality was the most enjoyable thing to do. He seemed to bear the weight of my shoulders. I couldn’t smile Gary, I was angry for so long that I forgot how to smile. I felt foreign in my own body, felt so void and inhuman. Everyday I looked into the mirror and saw a monster, a beast. I didn’t want to be the person I was but I did not know how to be anyone else. I had always enjoyed cooking because it made me mess around and make edible substances in the kitchen but one day something happened. I was preparing dinner and then my father walked in. He looked at what I was doing and what I was wearing and kept his silence. He then asked for me to do something of which I agreed and then said something on the side. He heard it and raised his voice at me. My rage shot up and I was holding a kitchen knife. He was only a meter away from me and now the time had come. I smashed the knife into the kitchen board. My anger grew more and I pulled the knife out of the board and held it. All the days of karate had suddenly come into my mind. He turned his back on me as he walked out and I advanced towards him. I looked at his back and analyzed his body. I knew that for me to stab him and make it impossible for him to survive, I had to hit him in three points. I began to mark the place I was going to stab him in my mind. Firstly I was going to stab him in the gut, then pull it out and go for his heart, pull it out and then stab him in the throat and leave the knife in his throat. I tightened my grip and began advancing to him. Just as I was about to unleash the first blow I thought of my mom. I stopped immediately and thought of her deeply. How could I hurt the person who loved me by killing the person she loved? I paused and almost cried. I retreated and released my anger on a banana tree. I tore the flesh off the tree of using my fists until it could not stand anymore. Mommy came to my rescue. I avoided contact with my father, I knew I would not kill him but I did not want to be tried.
Such did my torment grow. My evil twin began to mock me wave after wave. “You are weak, you idiot, he was right there for us to take but you failed. You idiot, you woman!” I remember what he said, word for word. I had him but I did not kill him. Was I a coward? Was I as rotten as something a cow spit out? Was it really true, that I was weak and unable to deliver what I said I would deliver? Was I just a vessel of empty words; was I just like my father? Was I not man enough to deliver that which I promised I would deliver, just like my father? I felt like such a weakling. I hated myself for letting him go. I really hated myself. Looking at my face filled me with such disgust that I felt that shearing my skin off would make me look at myself differently. Cutting off my tongue seemed so luring. Why keep a lying tongue that speaks of what I cannot do. I was the idiot; I was the fault in the equation. I was the loose end to the rope that had to be cut off.
Corey before you continue, answer me this. Did you ever sort out your differences with your brother? Yes I did actually. After my sister left, he was the only sibling I had left so we ended up spending a lot of time together. I remember one of his birthdays. He didn’t get any presents and I saw depression on his face. I took all my pocket money and bought him a cake, chips and all the unusual birthday things. I remember seeing the smile on his face though none of us smiled a lot. I sang him happy birthday in what was a very sharp and penetrating voice back then. We ate all the stuff I had bought and watched Tom and Jerry on cartoon network. Those cartoon characters seemed to symbolize our day to day activities at most. He always had the tendency of barging into my room unexpectedly and also infringing on my turf but because of all the fighting we had actually observed a truce and ended up respecting each others boundaries. We had a lot of funny and memorable moments. If he wanted to get the remote from me, he would not ask. He would stand up with a newspaper in his hand and then approach me. I would look at him and then he would throw the newspaper onto my face while he snatched the remote from me. Genius right! Shrewd and effective I have to say, but carry on Corey. He used to make me remember the good old days with my sister. Playing makeup and dress up. Yes, me in a dress, as traumatic as it sounds! Playing miniature war in the yard together and bugging mommy to intervene when my brother was refusing to surrender. Trying to play hide and seek but always getting caught because my dog followed me everywhere. He helped me let go of my dog whet it died at the age of thirteen. I cried because one of my lifetime companions had left me but the tears did not stain my cheeks forever. He helped me remember the good old days and I thought he would never leave.
I wish that was my happy ever after. Sooner than later he had to go to school where my sister was and I remember standing at the airport as the plane took off. I tried to shed crocodile tears but a few tears ran over my cheeks. He was going, my last friend was going. I am all alone now. Mommy is all I have. First my sister now him. I briefly enjoyed pillaging his bedroom. I moved into his room so that I could hold the memories of him close to me. I remember how my sister told me of how he was acting. He wasn’t talking anymore. I sent him an email and told him that I wasn’t there anymore and he had to meet new people. He listened and came out of his shell. I tried to be brave but the emptiness was killing me. How could there be a Tom without Jerry, a Sylvester without Tweety. The vastness of the house made me feel so lonely without even trying to feel like that. I remember falling asleep on the sofa while I was watching TV. I started dreaming that my brother was sitting next to me and jumping up and down on the sofa as he switched in-between channels every four seconds. Mommy blames me for destroying the lounge sofas but I know who really did it, but it is my secret! I loved my siblings and I still do. There is nothing humanly possible I wouldn’t do for them. I remember hearing of their suffering as they were abroad. It hurt me to think of their suffering.
One day while I was asleep at my aunt’s house; I was woken up by both my mom and aunt. They told me that they had consulted a spirit medium as they were trying to ascertain the cause to my sibling’s misery. The spirit medium told them that my father’s mother had bewitched me and my siblings. However, in order for the spell to be broken, I had to come and stand on their behalf through a three day cleansing ritual. Wait a minute Corey, you are telling me that your family was involved in witchcraft! Another crazy twist to the story ha! It’s not witchcraft but it’s a traditional aspect to our culture that involves complex spiritual attributes in a sense. Ok Corey, go on then. I remembered the way my siblings were suffering trying to pay their school fees and stuff and I felt obliged to help them. I agreed and my mom and aunt took me to the witchdoctor as I like to refer to spirit mediums. She ordered my two custodians to buy a live chicken and bring it to her. They did as they were told. The witchdoctor then killed the chicken, took the blood of the chicken and some of its internal organs and put them aside. She then ordered everyone into the car and led us to a secluded river that was flowing down a hill. When we got there she told me to remove all my clothes except for the boxer short I was wearing inside. She then told me to sit facing the direction in which the river was coming from. I did so, shivering from a chilly wind that was blowing down the hill. The witchdoctor then poured the chicken blood onto me and rubbed the internal organs of the chicken all over me while she was cursing. She then gave me the organs and a black cloth and instructed me to put the organs in the black cloth and tie them up. I did as she said and she told me to throw it behind me and not look back as I walked towards the river bank. I did so and came to the bank of the river.
The witchdoctor came to me and told me to sit in the water. I did it hesitantly because the water was freezing cold. She then started pouring the rushing water onto me, cursing the spirits that we troubling my siblings and I. When she was done she told me to walk to the car and not look back. I did so and got into my clothes while I was in the car. We went home that day and woke up to go back to the same place the following day. We got there and the witchdoctor gave me some porridge that had herbs in it. She told me to eat it using my bare fists and while I was eating I was suppose to curse the spirits that were troubling my siblings and I. I did so and I endured a lot of sour porridge mind you. However, for my siblings I did it. After I had finished eating, I had to flip over the plate as a sign of completing my curses of which I did flawlessly. She then gave me a pouch of herbs. She instructed me that on the following day just after sunset I was to take a bath. In the bathing water I was going to use, I was going to put the herbs in the pouch she gave me. As I was going to be bathing, I was instructed to curse all the spirits like before. Then after I was done bathing I was to get out of the water and use a container with a lid to scoop up water from the tub and seal it in with the lid. After doing this, I was instructed that I was suppose to go to a place where one road breaks into two and give my back to the splitting road. I was told that I was to command the spirits into that bottle and then throw it behind me and walk home and not look back. I did as she said and did not overlook a detail. The happiness of my siblings meant so much to me, they are all I had. Ancestral worship was a day to day activity of our lives. Every year we had a thanksgiving ceremony to thank the ancestors for protecting us. I started drinking alcohol at the age of five and it is said that I was destined to become a spirit medium. My mother was and is a spirit medium after all. Let’s just say like mother like son!
Nevertheless, the distance between me and my siblings was too long to bear. Talking on the phone was not the same as seeing them, fighting all day and giving mommy a headache. I became highly reserved and depressed. My father didn’t make it any better. He constantly mocked my school work. Nothing I did was ever good enough. He always found reason to bring me down. My anger towards him led me to train karate. My sensei always said I was too aggressive. True as it was, I trained only for one reason? I had finally resolved to kill my father. Every detail of the plan had to be perfect. I couldn’t use a gun because ballistics could catch me easily. I could not use a knife because it was too messy. I thought of a snake but just catching the damn critter was hard enough. I resorted to martial arts because it manipulates pressure points. I wanted to beat him to death using my fists. To leave him in a pool of his own blood. There was nothing left to care for. I was all alone. Mommy would not understand, he had to die, his blood was mine. He had to pay for all that he had done to me. I didn’t care if I would be charged with murder in the first degree and end up getting the death penalty. As long as I had returned the favour. Death, such a misleading mistress she is. She told me that I was justified for wanting to do what I wanted to do. My other me was already sharpening its teeth for the cannibalistic acts that were going to proceed.
After killing my father, I wanted to kill mommy. I blamed her for not protecting me from my father. She had to die as well. Then I wanted to kill my siblings for leaving me all alone. All of them had to die. Then my purpose would be fulfilled.
Ok Corey, are you sure you want to continue? We can always continue another day. I am fine Gary, I can finish this. Ok, so Corey, tell me what was happening in your mind. Ahem, ok, my mind was a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were no longer linking. One piece was somewhere it was not suppose to be. I can see that you Gary love playing crossword puzzles. Yes, actually I do love playing those puzzles, how did you know? You always have a pen and newspaper with you. I scanned the notes you write in these sessions and they are mostly summarized into one word or a phrase. You always want to put the pieces to any story together; it’s as if you are solving a puzzle. You have a multitude of newspapers in your office and the last piece that cements my claim is that you always carry a crossword puzzle in your right pocket with the pen swinging effortlessly around your neck. I have been observing you Gary. Wow, I have to say I am impressed, you are quite perceptive and sharp Corey. I believe you were born like that. Actually no, I was quite passive in my childhood but as I grew, rejection and scorn turned me into a sharp and very perceptive person. I don’t like being taken by surprise. I like having the controlling stake in most situations. However let me tell you how it came to be. Gary, you being a puzzle man, have you ever put in a word into the puzzle that was wrong and it ended up spoiling the entire puzzle. Yes I actually have a number of times. Good then we are on the same page.
I grew up heavily dependent on mommy. My fathers influence in my life made me a very sharp, aggressive, manipulative, witty, shrewd, sick, twisted, and ever violent person. I became so caged up in myself that I developed a survivor’s instinct that was very selfish. I was a very confused person in my teens. I struggled with acceptance and hurt. I hid from society and began to brew the hurt in me into anger. I loved horror films! Every time I imagined it was me acting out the scenes in the movie. Making the people who hurt me bleed was a plan for my future. I did not trust in any person except my immediate family. I developed a split personality. A very dangerous one! The other personality of mine was a person heavily addicted to blood, sex, violence and unorthodox behaviour. In high school I was always mocked. But one day I proved them wrong.
I walked into class and bumped into another students table. He stood up with the intention of intimidating me. I put my bag down and turned with murder in my eyes. He attempted to strike me but I stepped back. Him thinking I was a woman; kept on coming for me but I stepped away. He quickly gave up and assumed I was not going to retaliate. I pounced immediately on his sense of security. My first blow hit his left eye, my second blow hit his stomach, and my last blow went straight onto his mouth. He fell back and covered his mouth. A tooth rolled from his blazer onto the floor. Then everyone was silent. I began to laugh with such a sinister tone. He uncovered his mouth and he had lost a canine tooth and blood was flowing down. I grew silent; my focus was now on the blood. I became amused at the sight of his pain and started to laugh. This time I was poking him in the head with my fist. Such a puny person he seemed. My first victim! He sat down crying and never went to tell the senior masters because I promised that I would finish him off. Nothing in my mind made sense. I was a psychotic episode at most! I loved playing mind games with people and manipulating their thoughts and emotions. I discovered that people underestimated the power of the human mind. But soon, it would be in the open for all to see.
I found myself talking to another person in me, getting motivation to do harmful things. The war at home got more serious. Each and every time my dad spoke to me harshly I would stand up and stare him in the eyes in rebellion. My hope was that he would throw the first blow and that would give me a good enough reason to kill him. My brother and I had our occasional sibling rivalry episodes and it would turn violent. My mother always intervened and cast down the foul spirit. Such a darling she was! I hated the time out sessions that followed such episodes. I was always banished to a stone outcrop in the yard that had no shade. The suns blazing arrows and the impenetrable surface of the rock made me feel like an egg in a frying pan. At least my sister would offer comfort in such times but not for long.
A time came when my sister had to go abroad for school. Seeing her getting onto the plane opened my eyes to the prospect that I was not going to see her any time soon. I felt robbed! My darling sister, my best friend was leaving. My other character was saying that she didn’t care; she didn’t love me and never did. Hearing that everyday as I looked into the mirror hurt me. I began to search for a female friend to fill the gap. I would isolate one and begin to monitor her without her knowledge. Following her home; taking pictures of where she stayed. Isolating her social habits and tendencies. If she lived in an unprotected area, I would try to get as much as I could about her room and anything that could be helpful. As quick as it started, I would find myself gawking at the pictures of the girls I was tracking. The desire to defile them became a hidden intention. The glitter of their smiles, the aroma of their perfume, the firmness of their breasts, the tone of their voices, and the shear sight of them made my imagination go wild. I found myself wanting to unleash my anger and hurt on them. Stalking girls became a pass time activity. Pornography became an addiction. My mind was a maze of pornographic images, videos and moans. I am glad that no girl ever fell into my hands because I would not be here talking to you right now.
I was always very good with words and I had quite the flirtatious tongue. Girls saw my charm. My slippery words hid my obsession, my intentions, my sick and perverted thoughts; I manipulated girls, played with their emotions, inspired thoughts into their minds, pounced on their insecurity and enjoyed flirting. I had demented desires and lusts. Everyone had become a pawn on my chess board. My eyes were so sharp I undressed women down to their birthday suit just by setting my gaze on them. My mind knew of no direction in life; it only knew vile crimes and atrocities against mankind. I got into another fight at school and this time I had to be restrained by a teacher. During a science lesson, I was paying attention to the words of my teacher when a student behind me mocked me. While my teacher was writing on the board, I stood up and walked to the student and smacked him three times and went back to my seat before the teacher saw me. The teacher turned to face the class wondering why the entire class was cheering and roaring. He did not pay too much attention to it. Then he left the room briefly and the guy I had slapped came down to my table and commanded me to face him in a fight. I agreed. I stood up and removed my blazer. I went up to him and he immediately started swinging fists. I began to block his fists and I got filled with massive strength. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and began to unleash right hand fists upon his face. He began to retreat but I pursued him. I began to use my entire body as a weapon. Some students tried to stop the fight but I pushed them aside and kept on pounding him. The teacher walked into a heavily disoriented victim and a pursuing mad boy. He grabbed a hold of me and held me in a bear hug. I tried to break away but he refused to let me go. The fight died down and then the teacher took a Bunsen burner pipe and ordered me to touch a table. I laughed inside as he began lashing me. I kept on laughing in my mind, I felt no pain. I was used to it! He then ordered me to sit down and I grinned hideously to the class who cheered me on.
I would find myself saying that this person was not who I was. But who was I to say who I was since I did not even know who I was! Even when I was in my most normal of senses, I found myself drifting into a state of denial. I tried to sort out my mind by introducing girls. A lot of them were just like candy without the sweetness but one stood out above the rest. I became so hung up on her that I chased after her for four years. She had given me a reason to wake up everyday. Getting her heart next to mine became my fight. Those were very happy days in my life. However I did too many things to get to her. I wrote letters, sent presents and even lied just so that she could feel sorry for me. One day I bumped into her and in a very cold voice she told me to “get of her case”. That shattered me; it cast a dark cloud over my hopes. After four years, my desire came crashing down on me. I tried not to listen but she insisted. I remember the feeling of rejection. I remember how it ate me inside. How it changed me for the worst. My old friend was back with a vengeance. Now all he wanted was blood. He wanted to bring his so called justice into action. If ever my split personality was to become an instigator of justice then I was doomed for eternity.
Mommy always loved but she was very strict. She always enforced a spirit of working hard in us and always made us responsible for our failures and successes. When she would get angry, she would be quick to discipline and quick to hug the pain away. I would always remember the lesson she taught me not the pain that came with the learning lesson. My mother hated stealing and always taught us that we should be content with what we have and aspire to achieve more. However, Gary, have you ever taken something without asking? Yes, I have. How did it feel when you did it? It felt wrong at most. Right you are Gary, right you are. I had an uncle of mine. A very prosperous uncle of mine who I looked up to as my father. He got married and he would always invite me to his house for weekends so that he could spend time with me. He would always take me everywhere he went. I remember how he would come to get me when I am covered in mud and put me in his Mercedes Benz. He would take me to all the places he had meetings. He even took me to a meeting at the bank and held my hand as we ascended the stairs. One day he left me at his house while I was playing on his waterbed (I wonder how that bed survived my wrestling moves). I bumped into his wife’s gold watch. I looked at it and liked it, I tried it on but it was too big, obviously. I then looked at it again and smiled. I put it into my pocket. I kept it to myself for a week. I then called his wife just to see how she was doing and she asked me if I had seen the watch. I denied having seen the watch and then cut the phone on her. She then called my mother and asked her about the watch. My mom then searched my room and found it. My mother was very angry with me and disciplined me heavily. She then drove me to my uncle’s house so that I could apologize and give the watch back in person. I did so and then rushed back into the car feeling ashamed. My mother then drove us home and comforted me hoping I had learnt my lesson. My uncle did not think too much of it because he knew something was plaguing me. He continued to talk to me and offer comfort in my little 9-year-old world as if nothing had changed.
My father came into my room the following morning and asked me why I had taken the watch. I replied “I wanted to wear it”. He looked at me with such disgust and closed the door on his way out. I had replied just to buzz him off. I never really knew why I took the watch. I never knew why I chose to take it and keep it to myself. I remember how I would stare at the golden bracelet of the watch. How beautiful it was, so pure and fine. My reflection bounced off its purity and its colour shined so bright in my eyes that I never wanted to let it go. Why did I take it? I wish it ended there. However, I did it again. This time my siblings and I went to visit my cousins. We got there and spent the day watching TV and horsing around. I went into my cousin’s bedroom and saw a $100 dollar bill. I took it and went and bought fast food for everyone in the house. I was so pleased to see everyone happy. After the weekend, we came back home and my mother had spoken to my aunt her sister about the money I had taken. My mother was disappointed but not angry. She told my father hoping they could all ascertain the problem that was causing this. My father being black took to his usual and beat me up. I ran away and he followed me and stripped me naked and continued to beat me up like a dog. My mother could not say a thing because she was silenced. I looked at my father, tears flooding my eyes and I began to hate him. I began to hate him so much at the age of 10. The hate, so real that I could taste it. So real!
Looking at him filled me with so much rage, an uncontrollable desire to want to unleash upon him the atrocities he had unleashed on me. I could not stand to be in the same room as him. I became confined to my bedroom. I only spoke to my siblings and my mother. I hated that man, I really dreamt of his death. I hoped my mom would divorce him and leave him to eat the dirt that he deserved. Talking to him was hard enough. I remember when we went on a family holiday my mom had been saving for, for most of her professional life. I remember how cold the place we were staying in was. My father would sit in the rocking chair in front of the fire and I would sit far away from him even though I was freezing. My mother knew that there were issues and she would ask me to play checkers with my father. I would refuse then she would persuade me and I would end up playing because she asked me. Those were painful moments. Was it that he never cared or he stopped caring when I came along. I always used ponder about why I took the money, why I took the watch. It’s not that I wanted to gain materialistically but I just did not understand why.
That man scared me, he scared my heart, my body my soul. That man, that man, oh how I hated him. His sight was as repulsive as the stench of a skunk. His eyes hidden behind the sophisticated look of spectacles made me view him as nothing more than a snake rolling on its belly. Even in high school, he would beat me and beat me and beat me. But now it was different. Every time he lashed me I hated him more. My eyes would grow red with anger. My heart would be burned with rage. My soul would cry lustfully for his blood. Everyday, I had to endure torment at school and torment at home. Everyday I was called a sissy at school, a woman. Everyday I hated the person I was. I blamed him for all of it. Everyday I would stare into the mirror, everyday I would get more and more carnivorous. I took what I took because I wanted appreciation. I wanted to experience appreciation and also give appreciation. All that he had taken from me was all I tried to regain. He lashed me for it, for trying to regain what I had lost. He lashed me for desiring something he was not man enough to give. He got all of his desires, alcohol, money, a loving wife and three kids. Why did he rob me of my desires?
Do you want some water? No, I am fine Gary, I am doing just fine. I did not want to go to school that day. I was forced to and I remember what happened in class that day. My teacher told the class to sit down and as I tried to sit down my body refused to be in contact with anything. Even wearing a boxer short was painful. My classmates quickly noticed my pain and started laughing. Oh their laughs, their cold heartless laughs. My teacher automatically knew what had happened and silenced the class. Tears had already lined my cheeks and I was cursing my father. How dare he do this to me? What wrong had I ever done to him? I was only six years old. Why was he never there when I wanted him, why, why, why? I refused to talk about it and kept it to myself. Such a monster I became because of that. Every time a classmate fell into a dilemma, I did not restrain myself. I laughed until he or she started crying. I would continuously laugh and laugh and laugh until he or she would refuse to come to school. It brought so much joy, a debt repaid I thought. I kind of believe mommy now when she tells me that I used to be a bully in pre-school. Each and every time I walked into the school yard, kids started crying and clutching on to teachers for protection. It’s hard to believe such stories when you are grown up you know!
Anyway, home was home even though. Living with my father’s siblings was a nightmare. They made life very unpleasant for the sake of hating my mommy. My father’s mother never wanted my father to marry my mother. My father’s siblings wanted to stress my mother to breaking point and the best way to do this was to mess with the kids. This hurt me a lot and I would threaten to stab them with a kitchen knife. My father was never there to stand up for us. He would never listen when we told him what was going on. Ignorant as he was, his blindness was such a burdensome curse. He was so blinded by his mother and siblings that he could not see his own children. My mother put all three of us through school, put food on the table, clothed us and put us to bed all by herself. Where was my father, I do not know. Lost in the hypnotic aroma of alcohol or his deepened affection for his mother I guess.
My mother worked hard all day and made sure she was home before the sun set. She would help me with my homework and let me play with her hair afterwards. Winters were often cold. I was afraid of the dark and I would often sleep on my mothers lap in front of the fire. Each time we heard my father at the gate, it had become a custom that we would extinguish the fire, switch off all lights and rush to bed. Not long before that, I used to be enthusiastic about seeing my father when he came home. I would wait for him at the door and help him to take off his shoes. I would sit with him by the fire and try to make sense of the testimony of his day. Now, my father, freezing from the cold outside and the alcohol in him would find wood drenched in water simmering in the fireplace and the distant voices of the people who were sitting there earlier. He would just sit there alone. Gone were the days were I would feel the urge to comfort him. Now I was starting not to care. My mother would tell me of how he used to take me places when I was still a baby. I asked “what places mommy” and the first place she said was “the bar” and she highlighted how happy I would be. I wonder why he stopped!
My brother and I also had our issues. We shared the same bedroom and always argued about space. Fighting was a daily routine for us. I remember when one fight got physical. Oh what a day it was! He slapped me and I ran to my sister who came, all engines blowing at my brother. She was holding a cricket bat and threatened to hit him on the head. I ran out of the house while my brother was in hot pursuit. My sister was pursuing my brother with the cricket bat in hand while our maid was pursuing my sister. I ran into the garage and got a broom. My brother followed and picked up an axe. I stopped and began to stalk my brother. I lashed out and struck my brother in the head with the broom. He attempted to strike my leg with the axe but our maid grabbed it and took it away from him. I continued to hit him before my sister restrained me. I admit, I always had a nasty temper, I guess that assured me that I was my father’s child. Sibling rivalry was not a major concern for me; it was mainly a tool of getting my mothers attention. Of which she did not really pay attention unless there was danger. My brother had an affinity for getting me into trouble. He always sought for ways to make my life miserable. At most, he always focused on my schoolwork. For a seasoned intellectual I surely did not like school. My class exercise grades where always hectic even though I passed my critical exams superbly.
My father did not tolerate failure, if he saw failure he would opt to lash before ascertaining the cause. Had he been a medieval king, he would have been renowned for acting before thinking. My mom had always suggested that my father was that way because his father was the same to him. He believed that instilling fear built upon earning respect. It sounds like such a misguided and childish concept for a grown man. At times, I would find myself wondering if at all, my father had any sense of moral fibre in him. Did he not even see that he was a distant star in the lives of his children? Did he acknowledge that he was a burdensome curse in the lives of his children? His actions alone were so hard to believe that tears seemed to be the only comfort and assurance that things could change. My brother was a highly reserved person, very talkative when he was with the people he was used to but very silent in the midsts of strangers. One day he was shouted at by my father and he was very hurt. He ran out of the house and hid in the backyard tree house. My mother got worried when my brother was not home for dinner and started panicking. She called my father who came home fuming. He called my brothers friends and he drove around the neighbourhood but could not find him. Out of desperation, my father took a walk in the yard and found my brother shivering in the tree house. My father dragged him out and brought him into the house. He then, he then. Ahem, he then beat up my brother and then sent him to sleep. He then set his attention on me and accused me of aiding my brother in his attempt to run away from home. He then beat me up until I was chocking in my tears and sent me to bed. Kids do wrong but why? Why was it so hard to look at the man who was my father? I hardly knew anything about him, even his favourite colour. When he was home, he would be all serious and moody that no one would dare share the lounge with him. I tried, I would get my spelling book and ask him to help me with spellings but he would turn me away. That lack of interest in my life hurt so badly. I felt as if I was a failure in his eyes and redemption was not a possibility.
Going to visit my cousins felt as if I had been liberated from jail. I could spend the whole day playing in mud or on the swing or horsing around with my cousins. Back at home, the only time I had to play was when mommy was around or when the lion was at work. As soon as I saw his car at the gate, I would run inside and go to bed even at midday. I just could not stand being around him. It was so hard to love him, no matter how hard my little heart tried. Mommy was easy because she was always there and she was open and fun to be with. My father was just something else.