Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Broken - a life - 1. Chapter 1
The paper was left almost accidentally here in my office. I found amongst a small pile by the edge of the desk. It was barely a page long, neatly hand written and done in a dark blue ink on starch white paper. The pain contained in that page is something I hope never to encounter again.
Hello,
If you are reading this I am sorry. Just call me, broken, because that is who I am. I’ve been broken my whole life. I just figured it was time to explain it so everyone would know. Till now I have been a high functioning broken. I smiled, did my work, and tried to hide how broken I was but I can’t do that any more. The fact that I have reached my late twenties is more than I expected to do.
I was five when I first found I was broken. My father made it clear to me. I wouldn’t eat my vegetables or liver. He said I was wrong and should eat what was fixed for me. When I didn’t he forced the food down my throat. When I threw up, he fed me that. Told me I was bad, whipped me, and threw me down the basement stairs. As I lay cowering in my filth he told me I was not what a good son was suppose to be. I knew then I was broken. Hours later when my mother came home she cleaned me up and asked what happened. I kept quiet. The next night when she went to check on our nieghbor, he beat me and told me if anything happened to end their marriage it was my fault. That night for the only time I stared at a sharp knife and wondered if cut myself would anyone care. But I knew I was broken and no one would.
I tried to be a good student. I worked hard to make him proud. Straight A’s meant nothing to him and getting a 99 earned me scorn for not working hard enough to get a hundred. In school I was the nerd, small and defenseless. I was beaten up constantly but I was broken so it didn’t matter. When I got older the school bully chased me into the woods. He beat me and raped me. I cried for hours. I snuck home, washed up the blood, and couldn’t sit. I didn’t bother to tell. Who would believe me. Here was just more evidence I was broken.
I matured and graduated high school. I finally moved out on my own. I had a place of my own. I tried to make friends. It never worked well. I hadn’t dated. Why would I? I was broken and who wants someone broken? Eventually though I made a discovery. I was not only broken I was wrong. I liked men.
Funny how you if you let yourself believe you can be loved how much pain you can let into your life. I finally met a man who told me he wanted me. The broken one was wanted. I was so happy. I forgot I was broken. Stupid me forgot that he wasn’t worth it and was broken. He entered my life, my home, and made me smile. Then he got drunk one night. I was showering. He wanted me and I wasn’t ready but he didn’t care. When he was done I was left on the floor crying. He stopped to apologize to the dog who he stepped on while walking out of the bathroom. I realized all over again I was broken and was worth less than the dog. I left that night.
I am not sure where to go now. I am tired and I hurt. The bruises remind me that I breathe. There is a place down town where the broken go to try to be fixed. I am tired and figure I will give it one last chance. I am tired of being broken but I don’t know if anyone cares enough to try to put me back together. After all I am broken and gay and wrong.
- 6
- 1
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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