When I look in the mirror, I used to see a young innocent girl. Lately, I’ve seen the opposite. I’ve been seeing a devil. It may be the devil inside me. I thought I left my past behind me.
3 years ago, when I was just 14, I made the worst mistake of my life. I killed my step brother. In my defense, he assaulted me. He used to make me sleep with him, he’d make sure no one was home and abuse me until I gave up and let it happen. It happened every day for 3 weeks. I felt hopeless, lonely, violated, and broken.
I decided I had enough. The last time he tried, I had a gun ready to go under my pillow. He came in my room and told me to lay down and shut up. I did as he asked but the second he got on top of me, I pulled the trigger. His lifeless body lay on top of me.
Every time I look in the mirror. I see the devil in me. I see the girl who was abused and violated and did something about it. It still haunts me. The way I dragged his body out to the back and buried his body. It haunts me. I, have a devil inside me.
I slowly start to wake up, I don’t know where I’m at or what happened last night. I was at the bar dancing with my mission, putting on quite the fake show. I didn’t think he had any idea I worked for the FBI, now I’m in some sort of shed. I hear footsteps behind me, slow loud clunks like someone’s hitting two pans together. I hear a voice.
“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in,”
Are there multiple people? I try to talk but I couldn’t. These psychopaths put a gag in my mouth. I see another man emerge from a dark dust corner. As he walks up closer, I recognize him. He was than man I was dancing with all night. What was his motive to kidnap me? Did I accidentally blow my cover? This was a new all time low.
“Are you surprised to see me sweetie? You got so drunk last night it was easy to get the truth out. Never heard of an FBI agent blow her cover, let alone to the person she needed to get information from.”
Damn it. My whole career was on the line. The two men go into a separate room talking, I assume about me. I start looking around, neither of them had weapons. Easy escape. All I need to do was fall back and break the chair. I saw 3 potential exits. One on front of me, and one to each side. The men were to the right of me so I figured the exit straight ahead of me was my safest bet.
I started slowly tilting back. Then, CRASH, down went my chair and before I knew it I was already halfway to the escape. Then I got shot in my right arm. I don’t know how, I checked, they didn’t have weapons before. The pain was rushing through me, it was more painful than anything I’ve ever felt. I made it to the exit but it was locked. They started cackling. Was this a joke to them?
“Come oh sweetie, you thought we’d make it that easy?” “Fine, give me a fair fight. Put down the guns and have a bare knuckle fight.”
The men looked at each other and put the guns down. They were easy to take out. It was in only 10 minutes when they were on the ground. But I was bleeding out, fast. I had to find a way out. I took their guns and shot at the door. I broke through it and went to the nearest public area. Told them who I was and what happened. It wasn’t long before I was getting stitches and they were in custody.
Love is the lie that keeps us alive. As we wait, wait, wait for something new. It never comes, yet it seems to always be around the corner. We always think we will move on. We always think that this pain is temporary. We always think, that love if real. And if it wasn’t for the thought of love. Of a life better than what we are presented with now. Of a life, where we find love. None of us would move on. Through the pain. The tears. The struggle. If it weren’t for the hope that some day, we may be happy. The world would be a much uglier place. Full of darkness. Full of anger. Full of death. Love is the lie that keeps us alive.
They were spread around everywhere.
“Who is this girl? What a slut. I would never send.”
My friends mimicked and mocked this girl to me. They did not know. She was me.
He told me they were safe. He told me I could trust him. He told me I was doing the right thing.
“Dude nice job! So sick man. Damn bro I wish she would have sent to me.”
His friends praised him. Told him he was on the top of the world. Little did they know, that girl was me.
He told them he wouldn’t tell who. He told them that it’s HIS bitch. He told them, she stays anonymous.
Until the truth was out.
I have just moved into my new house on Woodland drive. All my neighbors came to greet me, except her. There was something about her that I was drawn to, I’m not sure if it was her hair, her house, or the mysterious vibe of her.
Her lawn is well kept and clean, no sticks, no weeds, and no imperfections. Was the inside like that too? The next few nights I was just wondering, what is her deal? One particular neighbor, Mrs. Jane, a sweet old lady, probably in her late fifties, told me to watch my back around her, but why? I needed to find out more.
The next morning around nine o’clock, I mustered up all the courage inside me and started out to find more about this mysterious women. As I closed the door behind me, I saw her leaving her house at the same time. She was going for a run. Woodland drive is a particularly nice neighborhood, but she didn’t have high end clothes like everyone else did. She wasn’t wearing the most expensive shirt or leggings, she was simply wearing a pink shirt you may find at target with simple black leggings. Her blonde hair was up in a beautiful ponytail that fell between her shoulder blades. I needed to know more.
I decided to give Mrs. Jane a call and see what she meant by “watching my back”. In just a few short minutes I was talking to Mrs. Jane on her couch, drinking tea and getting to know each other. We started talking about all the little things in life. Then I asked. Why should I watch my back around her? She seems so innocent and sweet, what could be wrong? Then, she told me. Mystery girls name was Mack. Her deal? She supposedly has had a rough past, but why does she care about Mack’s past? Is the whole neighborhood just stuck up? I said my farewell to Mrs. Jane and walked back home after talking for a few hours. I walked right by the perfectly kept house, the gorgeous lawn, the white picket fence, the flower beds, I still needed more information on her.
I went home and changed clothes to more casual clothes to try and be on the same level as Mack. I walked up to her from door, the beautiful peach color, and I knocked. No answer. I knocked again but I held my breath this time. Then, out of nowhere I felt a tap on my shoulder and there mystery girl was. Smiling at me, I asked her if we could go in and talk, she agreed.
To this day. 30 years later Mack is my wife, and we still live in Woodland Drive, New Mexico. Oh, and her deal? She lived in an orphanage till she was 16. She was adopted by a nice family who we still adore. That’s it. That, is Mack’s deal.
