Fading Voices

Fading Voices

A Story by Hide From God

This is for anyone who has ever been abused. Whose voice was never heard, who were never seen and over looked, for those left out in the cold. This is for the ones who were forgotten.


It feels warm, comforting and all to familiar.  Running down my forearm like raindrops from an April shower, the drops fall into the barren sink, slowly escaping towards the drain.  I bring my fist to my face and stare at the shards of glass sticking out of it, glittering in the dull room.  Cracked pieces from the mirror continue to fall to the floor in front of me, each piece echoing in the room as it hits the floor.  My fists are grabbing the edge of the sink so tightly, that the blood flowing from my fist proceeds to flow more quickly and strongly.  My eyes find themselves in the mirror and I can’t help but stare at this monster staring back at me.  Hate, anger, disgust, loathing, resentment and bitterness is all I see in those eyes.  My brow furrows as I cry out in anger. I think, what the f**k have I become?


I turn away from the mirror in disgust because I can’t bear to look at myself any longer.  My eyes search along the floor of the bathroom for a something to wrap my bloodied fist in. I spot a dirty shirt on the floor, grab and start wrapping it as I walk out of my bathroom.  I walk down to the kitchen thinking how much of a s**t-hole I really do live in.  This apartment  loft is falling apart, but what the hell do I expect since I’m living in Roxbury? Ain’t the best place in the world but it’ll have to do as I light up a cigarette.  I rub my eyes and exhale the smoke, I’m tired.  I’ve been tired for what seems like my whole life now, I just want to catch a break; wake up with no worries for once in my life.  But hell I created most of these problem so I shouldn’t be bitching.


I walk over to my living room and pull out my tin.  I put my butt in the ashtray as I take out some coke and put it on the table, slowly dividing it into lines a good enough size for me.  I take my straw and proceed to snort up the fine substance.  Ahhh now that’s more like it I think, he only constant thing in my f*****g life.  This will never lie to me, yell at me, tell me I’m no good; this will treat me good for the rest of my life or until I’m dead, whichever one comes first.  I lay down on the couch and stare at the ceiling waiting for the coke to do it’s job.  My mind starts to drift back to when I was a kid, everything now a days seem to remind me of my broken youth.  I swear sometimes I hear that b*****d voice still ringing in my ears, yelling my name.  Chris, Christopher he would say, always around me, he never left me alone.  I swear I hear his voice coming from his room, I swear to god I hear him…


“Christopher get your a*s over here!” My father is angry, he always got angry.  He’s scary when he gets angry.  I walk over to my father very nervously, who was sitting in his chair in the living room.  “Get over here right by my side!” I do as I’m told.  As soon as I get there he backhands me across the side of my face which knocks me over.  “Where do you think you were going to go? Trying to sneak out of here and go do god knows what?! You little piece of s**t” I slowly get up, rubbing the side of my face suppressing tears.  I have to be strong.  “I need your help Christopher, I need you to help me out.  Go grab that rubber band on the coffee table and bring it here” I hate helping dad but if I don’t do as he says, he’ll hit me again. “ Good boy, now bring it over here and tie it on the elbow joint tightly! Pull it tighter Chris! Ah there we go!” I watch him stick the needle in his vein and shoot up the heroin.  I hate doing this everyday. “Ah Chris I love you my son, I love you!” God how I hate this b*****d…


I look around and thing he has to be here I think, I just f*****g heard him!  Where the f**k is he?  I get up and look around the room, then making my way through the apartment, searching for that b*****d.  My hand is throbbing again.  I unwrap the shirt as I head up to my bathroom searching for him cause I know I heard him.  I drop the towel on the floor showing my bloody hand and I figure I’ll get something else to help stop the bleeding some more, but I hear something from downstairs.  Chairs shuffling from the kitchen.  I scamper over to the doorway and listen more intently, I swear to god I hear it.  I hear voices.  It’s my mother and father arguing again.  I bring my head closer to the kitchen, I can’t hear it all. 


“Don’t you have anymore money or did you blow it all again like you do every f*****g day?” My mother says.

“Shut the f**k up b***h! I work hard every god damn day to put food on this table to feed you and that ungrateful son of yours.  This is how you f*****g repay me? By chewing me out as soon as I get home?” My father spits back at her.  The chairs are shuffling and I hear cabinet doors slam shut.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to work so damn hard if you didn’t use all the money on beer and heroine! That’s where all the money goes, to feed your addiction while I have to work to feed Christopher and I! You selfish pig!  This is how you treat your own flesh and blood, by letting them starve�"“ She doesn’t finish her sentence because my dad hits her across the face, which cause her to stumble.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that you little c**t! You speak like that to me again and you’ll get worse than that, I promise you!  And don’t you f*****g talk about that to me, I don’t have a f*****g problem!” He yells as he hits her again. “I’m getting sick and tired of this, every damn day it’s the same!” He keeps hitting her. “Well I’m going to do something about it before you do, b***h!”

“No Patrick, don’t! Please don’t! I beg you to�"“ All I could hear now was my mother gasping for air, things falling from the counters.

“This is the last time! No more!” My father yells.  Oh god, I need to do something!  I run into the kitchen, “Mom, I’m here!” but there is no one there any more. “Mom, I’m so sorry!”


I cry out as I break down in tears in the middle of my kitchen where I swore to god I heard them.  Why did he do it? Why did he kill my mother? Why didn’t I do anything to help her, why was I so f*****g scared that I didn’t move from my room? I beat the floor as my brain is searching for answers for my questions.  I’m such a f*****g coward, I couldn’t even save my mother as my father choked her a room over from me.  It was all my fault everything that has happened in my life. 


I lean up against the floor cabinets, bringing my hurt hand to my face.  Why did this have to happen, why did it have to come up now?  I haven’t remembered that in so long and I didn’t want to.  I ball my fist up and small it into my leg.  F**k.  It’s just to god damn painful to think about it.  The funeral, seeing her laying there.  I’m crying again god d****t.  I didn’t know where to turn, I didn’t know what to do!  Social Services didn’t even acknowledge me when I was younger, and the cops didn’t care about my mother or I seeing as we were poor white trash living in the projects.  The only thing that was there, the only solution so it seemed at the time was drugs.  No one else listened, no one else could help me.  But coke helped me.  It took away my pain, away the anxiety, the fear of everything that was in my mind.  I was hooked instantly from the first time I tried it, it had that affect.  In an environment where it was so readily available, of course I didn’t turn it down when offered.


I move over to my table and sit down at it, picking up my glass of water.  My hands are shaking, I can barely hold my glass.  I just do not want to think anymore, I don’t want to feel at all.  I put my head in my hands as I drift off, lost in my thoughts and memories.  I hear mumbled voices, nothing new seeing as my neighbors are always loud.  But they seem to loud and familiar this time. 


“Sir do you know how serious this crime you have committed is?  Do you understand the severity and the sentence you are looking at? You killed your wife who could not protect herself at the time.  You choked her to death.  This is something that cannot go unpunished, Mr. McAllen.  I am giving you a life sentence.” It must be the TV, some law show or something.  I look over and and see that the Tv is not on, just a black screen.  I’m losing my mind, I must be.  No ones there, they probably never were.  But I swear to god that I heard someone and the name McAllen in there.  I shake my head and down the rest of my water.  I bow my head just thinking,


“Chris you gotta believe me that I would never do that! I would never kill your mother!  I loved her! I would never do that to her! Chris! Don’t let them take me away! Chris! Don’t let them take me! I love you Chris! I loved your mother! Chris!” I gripped my hands in a fist, angry a that b*****d.  I flip the table across the kitchen. F**k! F**k him! He started this! He made me who I am! I’m addicted to coke because of his abuse and him being an addict himself!  If he had just OD’d then mom and I could have lived a normal life in peace.  I kick over a chair as I head to living room and sit down on the sofa and make a couple more lines to snort up.  This is all I need, this is what I yearn for.  I get up and walk over to my window looking out into the dirty streets below.  What a shithole this town was.  Gunshots at night, people always fighting, curb stompings just a f*****g terrible place.  I stride back to my couch and look down at the coke sitting there.  I start to get angry. 


What's the point of it all, what will any of this solve?  I’m not helping myself, I’m just running away from my f*****g problems.  Was this a reasonable escape for me to take?  I don’t even know what happened to me anymore, I was doing so good.  Graduated from Roxbury Latin in the top fifteen in my class, could have down anything I wanted.  But I chose this life, I chose the easy path.  The path which leads to destruction.  I don’t even know what I’m running from anymore.  Mom’s gone, dad is in jail and I was left here.  Forgotten by society, left out in the cold to survive on my own.  Would any care if I was gone because no one seems to care now.  I kick my table over causing the blow to go flying, I grab my TV and throw it on the floor.  I flip my sofa over and I storm to my room where I proceed to tear down the posters fro my walls, knock over the lamps and dressers, turn my bed inside out.  I collapse on the floor in a heap of rage, exhaustion and despair.  I can’t do this anymore, I can’t live like this.  My hand is throbbing again, which I look down and realize that I am bleeding again, stronger.  In my rage it must have opened up.  I stare at the blood flowing from me. 


Who says I have to stay here and live like this.  I’m not running from my problems, I’m just trying to deal with them.  But god d****t, I hear him everyday calling my name and choking my mother.  Every day and I just want it to stop, I want to stop hearing these things.  Stop feeling this f*****g pain.  Everyone has gone away, I’m all alone.  I look up, I hear her.  I hear my mother, I know it’s her.  “Mom is that you?”


“Christopher I want you to know that everything will be ok and that I am fine now.  Don’t be scared honey.” I’m crying I haven’t heard her in so long.


“Mom I don’t know what to do anymore, I’m lost and scared.  What should I do?”  I cry to her, I want her to tell me what to do.  I need an answer, I need to know.  I put my head in my hands, “Mom, I’m sorry I heard him choking you, I heard it all but I didn’t do anything.  I could have saved you, I could have stopped him but I was too scared!  Mom, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.  I should have helped, I should have stopped him.”  I cry to her, it was all my fault.  She died because I was to much of a coward to save my mother.


“Christopher, It’s ok.  Everything is fine now, I’m not hurting.  I’m safe now.  He can never touch me again.  I love you no matter what happened Chris.  I do not blame you for my death.  Everything is going to be ok in the end.”  I look up trying to hear her as her voice is fading away from me.  I reach my hand under my bed as I cry out to my mom,


“Mom don’t go, don’t leave me again!  I don’t want to be alone any longer, I can’t make it!  Mom I just want the pain to stop! Don’t leave me!”  I’m sobbing as I bring my handgun to the side of my head.  I can’t live this life I lead anymore.  There are no more options left for a broken man like me.  “I’m coming home Mom! I’ll be with you soon enough!  Wait for me mom, just please wait for me…” I c**k the gun and take one last deep breath.  I close my eyes and find myself strangely peaceful.  I’m coming, I’m going home I think as I squeeze the trigger slowly.

© 2010 Hide From God

Author's Note

Hide From God
This is based on actual events of my friend who did in fact kill himself in the same manner.

That being said, I know this needs some work and touching up. Suggestions would be amazing. Thank you and enjoy ^_^

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Added on May 29, 2010
Last Updated on May 29, 2010


Hide From God
Hide From God


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