One Tobias

Twenty Years Ago

My father—if you could call the worthless piece of shit that—dragged me down the hallway by my hair, while his immature adult son followed him like a dog, waiting for scraps.

"Did that stupid kid screw up again?" his wife asked between puffs of her cigarette.

"Help me, please?" I called to her, but she didn't even bother to look. She was in the living room, glued to the couch and filling small plastic containers with white powder while the television blasted.

"Fucking useless. You're lucky I can't return your ass to where you came from," Father snarled.

Lucky? Hell was better than this place. I held on to his wrist to ease the pain of having my scalp pulled from my skull. "Let me finish my food first. Please," I begged. It was the first meal I'd eaten in a couple of days, and even though the single slice of bread was stale and the can of tomato soup had expired, the meager meal was better than the glasses of water I'd been drinking to try to fill my stomach. "I'm so sorry. It won't happen again. I promise."

"You'll eat when you learn how to do your job right." He yanked me down the creaky wooden steps leading to the basement. The tattered shirt I'd worn for five days snagged on a protruding nail on the wall, tearing the fabric and leaving me with one sleeve—on the arm hanging on to the monster's hand for dear life. "What if I didn't know that cop, huh?" he barked.

"Idiot," his son chimed in. He was never on my side. He'd do anything to please Father.

"Gimme your belt," my father ordered, snapping his fingers at him.

His son obeyed. The clunking of the metal buckle when he pulled the leather from his pants made my stomach drop. He lit a cigarette after handing his belt to Father.

Not again. Please make him stop, I silently prayed to whoever was listening. Out of instinct born from the constant abuse I'd endured, I raised my hand to shield my face. "Stop! I beg you," I pleaded when the first strike hit my elbow. Searing pain radiated from my cut skin.

"No wonder nobody wants you. Even your own mother discarded you." My father followed his blow with a kick to my hip.

The hurt of his words was ten times more potent than his beating. But he was right: I could disappear today and no one would miss me. I doubted they'd even look for me. The emptiness within me grew, consuming every last ounce of hope and leaving me hollow.

I folded my body when the second whack of the belt landed on my side. The third one to my leg followed. My mind disassociated from the world around me after the fourth smack. My body became numb and I zoned out. One of the kids from the orphanage once told me to think about happy memories when I was sad or in pain. I was sure that would help, but I had none.

Their blurry movements played before me and, moments later, my wrists were bound to a post. Something hard hit the back of my head and my eyelids grew heavy, my body succumbing to sleep—the only time I could find peace. Even that was hard to come by lately because of the nightmares that plagued me.

It was a brutal evening. The weight of years of abuse and cruelty seemed to finally be taking its toll on me, leaving scars on my body and breaking my soul. A dark, gnawing anger grew like a forest fire in my tormented mind and I wasn't equipped to contain it. I wasn't sure how long I was unconscious; the last thing I remembered was the final blow to the back of my head that caused me to pass out. When I came to, my wrists were screaming from being tied to a wooden post with a belt—the same one my adoptive father and his older son had beaten me mercilessly with before leaving me bruised and battered. Small, round cigarette burns on my legs seared white-hot.

I summoned every ounce of energy left in my body to free myself. "Ahhhh!" I screamed, yanking my hands free of their leather restraint. I stared at them, a silent sob escaping my lips when my fingers brushed the raw flesh. "Fuck them!" I cursed. "Fuck all of them!"

As I lay in the cold, dark basement that reeked of decaying rodents, tears welled in my eyes. The revelation that I'd been adopted solely as a means for my parents to profit from government funds and to force me to be their drug mule was a bitter pill to swallow. I was nothing more than a commodity, a pawn in their twisted game.

Something inside me snapped. I couldn't take it any longer.

In the dead of night, when the world outside was silent and shrouded in gloom, I made a decision that turned me into evil. Monsters weren't born, after all, they were created: to escape, to break free from the chains that bound them to horrors. I gathered what few possessions I had and packed them into a small bag—my entire life reduced to a tattered backpack. My movements were careful and deliberate; I didn't want to alert anyone in the house of my plan. I will be free soon.

After one last look around the room that had been my prison for so long, I carried two metal containers up the stairs. I made my way into the kitchen, pushing past my weakness. Never had the smell of gas promised freedom more than when I turned the burner on the stove all the way up. I walked backward, pouring a trail of gasoline on every dry surface of the worn-out linoleum floor that was once bright and inviting but now lay cracked and stained with spills from forgotten meals. I soaked the once vibrant rug and every piece of discolored furniture with flammable liquid that burned my eyes; fuel for my revenge.

It wasn't enough. I needed to make sure they didn't come out of this alive. I propped wooden dining chairs against the doorknobs of their rooms, trapping them inside.

Only one thing left to do. I made my way to the back door, lighter in hand. One flick and the house was on fire. I stood and watched the orange and yellow tendrils; their rhythmic sway was almost hypnotic. The flames grew higher; the heat intensified. A loud bang followed by shattering glass broke my trance. I ran as fast as I could, to escape the agony, suffering, and pain; to reclaim my life.

I made a vow to myself as I disappeared into the night: I would never look back. The nightmares of my past would remain behind me, and I would forge a new future, free from the chains of my tormentors.

Screams and sirens interrupted the night. With every step, I got further away.

It was over.

I was free.