SickMentalGirl's blog: "FROM THE MIND OF KALE"

Charlie is a boy, that lives in a box. Tucked far away collecting dust in a small corner in the dark.

Once in a while I can hear Charlie sing. His voice is magical, demonic even.

Anything that goes bump in the night I know it's him. That little scratch in the wall. Creaking floors. That's him trying to get out.

I can't let him out, it's too dangerous. He's been out before. Caused a lot of trouble. Everyone blamed me but it was him. He was the reason why.  He's not a normal boy. He craves not toys, he craves not love. He craves chaos, destruction and hate. Everything that I was Charlie wanted more. He'd pick at me. Torture me, tease me relentlessly. He was the one who told me what to do. He even said no one would believe me. And he was right. No one did believe me. No one could ever imagine that for once he would be real. No matter how much I cried out. No one listened. Charlie was laughing at me, circling me and pointing his finger at me. Chanting "they will never know, they will never know" so close to my ear, he stopped tilted my head and whispered deeply saying " THEY.......WILL.......NEEEEEEEVER.......KNNNNNNNNNOOOOW". Those words haunted me. Day after day, night after night. He would watch me, and I could feel him watching me.  The nights that I wasn't alone. I wanted so much to tell them what was going on, but something stopped me every time.  I could feel his smirky smile in the darkness. Knowing he won each and every time. He would get in my head and make me feel like I was the useless thing in the world,  and that I was weak and couldn't fight him. He destroyed everything that was good inside of me. It was overnight, boom I transformed into a different person. A person who was cold, numb and angry. I saw Charlie frequently in those days. I'd often spend most of my time with him. Devouring our conquests. And celebrating, raising a glass to the cold hearted ways of our new life.  There was this special ritual we would do together, only for us.  Taking those steps, trusting how each event unfolded. Learning our limits and thresholds. It was Charlie who taught me to do it the right way. And for them to never show, keep them hidden but be proud of them. And to never be ashamed for doing it. I never was. Charlie pushed me a lot. Charlie always knew how to hurt me. Saying the wrong things and turn the whole thing  around, so it made me feel like I was the worse one. He was very good at that. Of course it worked every time, because I'd cry about it. I'd have no one to turn to because Charlie wouldn't have that. He hated me having friends.  So most times I gave in. I gave up a lot of things for him. I fucking hated him. I wanted him to die. At this point in my life I really didn't have anyone, I ran my mouth off way too many times, I don't blame them either, I'd say some of the worst things and most of the time. it would be the opposite, I wanted to tell them how much I was hurting, how I couldn't do it alone, but what came out was insults and ungratefulness. I tried so many times to make amends but eventually no one wanted to hear me.  I came home from one of those apologies and here Charlie was sitting at the table waiting for me. Threw his cup at me, yelling at me, telling me it was too late and I couldn't do anything and that I was a useless bitch. He walked over to me, grabbing my shirt and throwing me against the wall. His fists were against my neck, it was hard to swallow. He could see the fear in my eyes. With his low, angry teeth clenched voice saying  "you can never leave me, I won't let you "

I was scared, I knew Charlie threats were real. I never did challenge him. He scared the fear into me. And I was stuck.

The more he got into my head the more I couldn't escape. Charlie knew that. Preyed on that. There were a few times where I would take too long to answer a question and I'd get back handed. Or I'd say the wrong thing the wrong way I'd get back handed.  And if he was really mad palm smacked. I don't know which hurt the most. My cheeks would be blood red after his episode. He hated when I cried, if I didn't stop crying in a certain time, he would hit me in the back of my head or pinch my arms. He took me a lot in those days. Without warning. Right there. Right then. Sometimes it would be over in seconds, sometimes hrs and it would hurt.  Hurt to the point where I'd bleed.  He didn't care. I would be trying to keep my legs crossed and he'd fight to keep them open, hitting me in the face so I would give up. It pains me to even say how many times I gave up and gave into him. Sometimes he would even share me, without hesitation, he would force me to do these things. I had no choice.  That night was the worse night of my life. There was a point where I didn't care if I died that night. The pain was too unbearable. I might as well have died that night. Even the noises echo still inside my head. I was never the same after that and I will never forget that night.

Continuously for I don't know how long. In those days I prayed for death. At least in death I would be free in some way. Away from him. But Charlie was evil, he would find a way, and he always did find me. I couldn't get away from him. He always knew where I was.  

I never loved him. As much as he forced me into a lot of things. I fucking hated him. But in reality I knew Charlie knew that. It's what made him stronger. How could I ever love anything as evil as him. Of all the shit he's done to me. I wish nothing but pain upon him.

That night, that one most memorable night. I fought. I fought hard and to the death. Charlie wanted to play. That night I openly offered myself to him. To let him do it anywhere. He was weary because I had not openly offered before. He stared into my eyes, searching for a truth, but found nothing and accepted. He turned around to get the "toys" I silently breathed a relief that he actually believed me.  I waited for him, positioned myself as usual. As our ritual was carried out. Afterwards he laid there quietly and satisfied. As my after, I often took a shower. Getting rid of all the guilt and dirtiness. I came back to him. Assumed my usual spot. Noticed he had fallen asleep. And that's when I tried to get away, I tried to pry that window open so bad and trying to do it quietly wasn't the best. Charlie had put duct tape over the window openings. I was cutting through it with a razor. I would have made it but the last sound snip awoke him. And he was pissed, yelling and grabbing my arms, smacking me in the face. I fought back by kicking and scratching at his face and screaming as loud as I could. Charlie was shocked, you could see it in his face, but as now filling up with anger and hate and disappointment. I scratched the inside of his ear. Which made him furious but he turned away for a few seconds, that amount of time gave me the opportunity to grab something to hit him with, I grabbed a plate and hit him in the head with it. He went down. I ran for my life, he grabbed my feet, tried to climb on top of me but I kept kicking.  I kicked him so hard his face started to bleed. I wasn't about to give up this time. I had enough. I wanted Charlie out of my life. I wanted to kill Charlie. Put him back where he was supposed to be. Dead and in hell.  I did get away, I survived. I threw away the remains. In his box he shall be. Every so often I can hear him in the distance. But I giggle now. Charlie is dead.