Chapter 4 Suicidal motives.

As I sat wondering what else to do, and if I should go ahead with my plans and end this miserable life of mine, I just felt some sort of voice in my head. I had no idea what this particular voice was trying to asserted unto me. But I was real sure that this was not a voice that was in any way trying to stop me from my act, but delay me. In a swift dash some sort of breeze blew across my face, I almost fell back unto the bed, I was sitting on, not out of it's force but out the sheer fear with which it gripped me.

And I clearly heard a voice say " Eric to have to bring those pedophiles to Justice, else you will pay for your father's crimes" . At first I couldn't believe I heard this voice loudly and clearly while I was alone in the room. I wanted to deny it , and assure myself that all was well. But my sub conscious mind could not let me deny it by any means, it was unmistakable. I therefore tried to figure out where this voice was coming from. But it had suddenly stopped. There was something peculiar about the strange voice I just heard, it was exactly the same female voice that I could recall I use to hear in those scary nightmares I used to have. I have no idea how the voice one hears in a dream sounds like or how it can be recalled. But I was very sure it was exactly the same voice of the vampire that appears in my dreams. I was perplexed. All of a sudden I saw the black cat standing right beside the window, it had such a dark fur that seems to reflect it surroundings. It has few white spots around it's body. This cat had been stalking me for some time, anytime I experience something strange I would see it close by. I had tried to assure myself in the past that this cat appearing before me was just a mere coincidence and had nothing to do with my strange and weird experiences. But at this point I couldn't simply deny the fact that the cat was indeed and really behind my strange experiences. It stared at me as if was making inquiry of something from me. And at the same time it's eyes were scary to the extent I was afraid it would soon transform to something dangerous and deadly. Something peculiar was about the eyes of the black cat, it had blue pupils that seem to be glowing and a green eyeball. This were exactly the look of the eyes of the vampire that had been appearing in my nightmares. I simply couldn't believe it. I wished it was a dream and not happening before my eyes. It was damn scary and I wished I had ended my life right away without sitting for any thoughts. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, and then like a smoke when I opened them the cat was already gone, no where to be found. I sat and decided that I had to end this miserable life right away without further delay.

I picked up ok of the poisonous drugs and without any means of restraint from within me I decided to swallow it, and let other drugs follow suit. But then I developed shivery hands. Was I trying to hesitate? No! I need not hesitate. Of what use was my life. I am someone who had been hated by his own mother, for something I never committed, and even if I had a hand in my father's exposure, it was something he my pedophilic father was really engaged in, ruining the lives of many. Yet I never reported my father myself, instead he was caught, by the police. The part I played in the witness I bore against him was no fault of mine, in fact it was inevitable. But yet my mom would not reason it all. She loves my dad so much that even when he was openly wrong she seems to stand by and defend him. She was so much determined to save my dad's neck from the whole mess and crimes he was caught for, but the odds were stacked high against him. The bodies of the young girls were all there, videos of him molesting several girls which he had recorded by himself are all there in hi system. How comes my mom was blinded to such extent, how would she be this heartless as not to care about the sad fate of my father's victims. Hence ever since my father got nabbed for his crimes, she detested me. It became as if I were never her son who she gave birth to in the first place. I managed in the earlier days to bear her I'll treatment and detest for me, this was simply because I believed that she was only expressing such behavior towards me out of trauma and reaction towards my dad's arrest. When it dawned on me that my mom's hatred for me won't change, I realized I could no longer bear it anymore, the insults from the people in the neighborhood, the way they abused me made me totally feel like a stranger bin my own home, like an alien in the home State of California I grew up in. I just couldn't figure out why the hostilities towards me were that way. Why can't everyone get the fact that it was my father who was responsible for the pedophilic acts and murder of several young girls and not myself, why won't they just let me be and give me a fair treatment. Of course they are right in some sense, because I had aided my father in all the atrocities my father had committed. But yet I had no fault in all this. I was brought up as a kid and my father did all his dirty acts in my very front. He made me feel there was nothing wrong in it. I as a kid would have no means of reasoning for myself. I grew with the mentality that all my father does was right, hence I aided and supported him in all his atrocities. Honestly it was the template which I had laid down for me, by my father. It was after the whole thing got exposed that I came to realize that I have been a notorious oppressor all the while over the years. I hated my dad ever since, I cursed being born unto him. I curse being birthed by a killer pedophile.

As all this thoughts trailed through my mind, the poisonous pills I had picked up in my hand were dropped to the floor, I had no idea when I dropped them. The atmosphere within my room seems to be sympathizing with me for my condition, and somewhat pleading with me not to go ahead with my plans to take my life, but I would have none of such. I am not worth living anymore. I had no kin, no family, here I was as if I suddenly dropped from a different planet. If outsiders would detest and abuse me for my past, why can't I at least find some support and care in my own family. My brother had ever since after the incident left to our Grandparents place. He had not even for once bothered to check on me. Of course even before I had not been a favorite to him or any of my other family members. But one thing about then was that there was no hatred and disgust of any form meted out against me before the exposure of my father's crimes. My sister so far had been the only one who seems to care a bit about me. She even called on my birthday to send her wishes to me. But yet I seem to disgust her too. I have no reason to hate her, since she cares about me despite the behavior of others towards me. But yet I disgust speaking to her because mere hearing her voice brings to life all the horror of the maltreatment bi had been through while I was with them. The abusive treatment of my mom, the neighborhood and even memories of the dirty acts of my father. All this were taunting memories and experiences that I wanted to have nothing to do with anymore. But yet she calls from time to time, and sincerely I appreciate her care but it seems that from her calls I am being dragged back to a past that I want to have nothing to do with. A past that is horrific and terrible full of horror. I moved out of California I'm the first place to find peace and make a fresh start here in Florida. With that I had hoped I will be okay and recover from the trauma I had been through, and even forget the memories I had with my father's deeds. That's why I just wanted my sister to stop calling me, I wanted to forget about them all. I sometimes tried to block her line, be the feeling I had that she was the only means of connection I had with my family won't let me do so. Yet I never called her for once, she does anytime she wants to.