Things aren’t well at all.  Two years ago, I’ve spent time walking in the park.  I was struggling with the thought of back when I was ten being beaten and yelled at by my cousin.  Both of my parents were killed in a car accident when I was five years old.  That’s how I suffered living with him in the first place.  My cousin’s name was Pete Jeff, a retail worker at Wal-Mart. 

He was fired three months later after he was arrested for smuggling Molly during the midnight hours.  I’ve been walking those memories out on the bushes of colorful leaves blocking the clear trail.  The trail is as long as ten miles.  It’s long enough to occupy the mind from insanity at least.

Every time I pull out a cig in the park, I stare at the fire from the lighter that ignites my burning hatred for the man that trapped me.  If there was a God, this torturing I went through was probably just the beginning.  That creature was made to let me suffer on this Earth. 

I remember the blood that ran pass my eyes and in my mouth when he punch the crap out of my pride, physicality and mentality.  Everyday I used wake up with bruises.  Scar after scar I recover only on my skin tissue.

There was one Thursday night that changed everything.  When I finally had enough, I crept in the kitchen and I grabbed a knife.  The knife shined like the sword in the sheath when it was in the wooden holder on the left side of the resting table.  The knife looked like a small machete in my right hand. 

This right hand guided me to Pete’s room.  I saw him lie there with both eyes closed.  The anger expression on his face narrowed his eyebrows.  Those dark bushy brown eyebrows made me understand why he showed such hatred for me.  I was born spoiled before my parents died.

I glared at him.  It almost turned me away because his face would always put me in fear.  The scared little brat that feared replaying my impression of a demon.  That devil forced me to press the knife on his throat.  His long red nose gushed blood to fall in his mouth.  When the nose blood fell, so did the blood from a cough.  He dribbles the blood to his chest.

I look at his blood filled chest from the neck blood.  In denial, I dropped the knife.  It hit the ground like a nickel.  The sound of the blade hitting the ground made me think it was enough noise to bring the cops in the house.  I thought that I couldn’t possibly get arrested at eleven.  I dashed to my room to get a few of my things and ran outside. 

It’s been sixteen years since the incident, and I’ve been having the same memories ever since.  I walk, and I walk alone.  The moment I stopped walking alone was when I met Precious.  Precious was a doll.  She had the most luxurious red hair.  I couldn’t tell if it was natural, but that smile made me forget what was real.  I remember I had a cig in my mouth, looking around the trees and landscape.

I saw her walk and she stopped by me while I was sitting on the bench.  My head turned away from that positivity that I don’t deserve.  She was too beautiful.  “Hey,” she exhaled.  “It’s beautiful outside.”  My mouth didn’t move.   

I wanted her.  “It’s okay buddy, I understand.  I was a silent person too,” she said.  I pulled the cig out of my mouth and release the remaining smoke to speak.  “Okay, what’s your name?”  Her eyebrow rose.  “It’s Precious.”

A couple months after that we finally shared a bed.  We are not yet married, but I’m thinking about it.  There are many things I’m going through right now, so I’m not yet ready to start a life with her just yet. 

When I moved in with Precious, I told her about how I struggled living in the streets with no legal guardian.  I explained how hard it was to raise myself.  Every time the cops caught me I would end up moving from house to house.  The night I told her was the night we slept together. 

It was hard to sleep as a child.  I could never have a regular dream without sleeping for one hour.  I’ve dealt with nightmares.  The nightmares would get worse at times.  I couldn’t even use the word dream compared to the ones I had.   This nightmare had both of my parents in a car driving towards a dead end.  The road was empty with no trees or grass. 

When they hit the dead end, they tipped over the cliff backwards.  They screamed falling to their death and it woke me up rapidly.  My scream was just as hysterical.  Even after I got back to reality, their screams were still ringing in my ear.

I got out of my covers sitting on the left of the bed, thinking about what would happen if they didn’t have the accident.  Would my life be less traumatizing?  Would I have to have lived with my cousin?  “Babe, are you alright?” Precious asked sitting behind me.  “Lie back down Precious,” I answered.  “Just know I’m here for you alright?”

“You can tell me anything when you’re ready okay?”  Her arms wrapped around my neck and moved her soft hands back and forth on my chest.  Then she smooched my cheek.  She went further to my face and kissed my lips lightly.