Never Stop

1. Via

Chapter one

Via

Looking Back

W hen I was young, most kids feared imaginary monsters under their beds or in their closets, but I knew monsters weren't imaginary. They live among us, inside the most unsuspecting people—the ones who are supposed to protect you. It's hard to accept that the people who are supposed to love and look out for you are the same ones you should protect yourself from.

There was once a time when embracing silence was never my strong suit. My voice, which was always so loud and demanding attention, one day became soft and weak and barely escaped my lips anymore. My laugh was always blurting out and was not only obnoxious but could ring on for miles. Now, I don't even remember what it sounds like.

I wore my smile as a genuine accessory without effort back then. I didn't have to remind myself to smile like I do now. There was just a happiness that radiated from me that was contagious to everyone, even myself. I would get happier realizing how happy I was. Things seemed very black and white, and I didn't push the boundaries to explore outside those lines. It wasn't until I was 15 that I took a step back and realized how sheltered I was, yet not protected. Does that even make sense? Sheltered, yet not protected? I'm unsure if it does, but that's how I feel. I felt like I was kept in a box for most of my life, yet no one checked to ensure the inside was even safe.

Kids aren't supposed to grow up fast. It's supposed to be a slow burn that takes forever, with each stage seamlessly savored between the others. Life shouldn't come to a halt while we are still living, but for some of us, it does.

My mother and father have always loved us unconditionally. I wish that love had more conditions.

I was seven when our little sister Natalie was born. Mom said she looked just like me when I was little. She may have been my younger sister, but she lit up my world. I was so excited to have another sibling; I did not doubt that this was my second chance and that maybe there was a sliver of hope that this sibling would like me, and she did. She loved me. When she was still a baby, she first said 'Mama' when I held her. It may have been because I was always holding her. She was my real-life baby doll, and I spoiled her every second I could.

As Natty Bear got older, my mother joked that she would never learn to crawl or walk because I wouldn't let her go. There's an age gap, but it never stopped us from being thick as thieves. She's always been my shadow.

Liam is the oldest—seven years older than me, to be exact—and he has never let me forget it. He was loved first; he was loved longer. I often wonder why or how he found power in that, but he did, and he used it to his advantage.

We were never close. Liam often reminded me that he was supposed to be an only child. I was the accident that ruined that for him, and he resented me for it. When my parents adopted Liam, they were confident they'd never be able to conceive their own child. With Liam, they weren't necessarily trying to. Our mother had multiple miscarriages, and our parents had given up on the idea of conceiving their child biologically. Having Liam come into their lives was a blessing for them. They were smitten with him and loved him as their own. When I came to be, I ruined Liam's family. He never pretended to like having me around; I was so strong and unbreakable back then that I smiled through every mean word, every push and shove, and every hateful look. He tried, he tried hard, but he couldn't break me.

Until he did .

I was elated when Natty Bear came along. Liam was the exact opposite. Where I saw the light, someone else to love, someone to experience life with, he saw another burden. Another inconvience. Another roadblock taking the love that was only supposed to be his away from Mom and Dad. He's never been nice, but when Natty was born, something changed in him. Something technically changed in us both. His anger and darkness filled the top of his cup and seeped out quickly like a disease, crushing everything it came in contact with efficiently, making the hatred and anger he had previously look like nothing short of a breeze. He was 14 at the time, filled with a darkness that loomed. The darkness that he had to get out.

He chose to let it out on me.

I want to think it takes something big to break someone down and completely alter who they are and their path, and in some ways, that is true. In my case, the recipe was multiple hateful little things combined, done day after day relentlessly without fail. Liam's most vital attribute has always been his patience. Usually, this is a beautiful trait to possess, but many in today's society aren't capable of it. Especially having anything and everything at the tip of their fingers in seconds. For a sociopath like Liam, their patience is merely for sadistic purposes.

Breaking someone isn't an act that happens overnight. It's a process of control and manipulation, which Liam mastered quickly. He usually waited for his cup of anger to fill before turning it physical on me, which was never quite long.

After the first few minor incidents, I learned quickly not to complain or "tattle" to our parents. The following events would be even worse, so I quickly realized it was better for me to keep my mouth shut. If I kept quiet, it wouldn't be so bad, or hopefully, it would stop altogether. After he broke my wrist the first time , I was sure that would be the point that things got better. I was ready for my parents to swoop in and save me, seeing right through the facade Liam would put on and finally seeing his true evil spirit. Unfortunately for me, they never did. After multiple physical and emotional injuries later, I realized that they never would.

I was so young, and so much had already been done to dim my light. Once Liam escalated to doing even more unthinkable things, I was already so far gone. His violence had no limits. My battle scars were proof of that. I didn't have it in me to fight or prove myself to anyone. It felt pointless. There was no saving to be had and no rescue coming. This was my life .

I want to think my parents were naive to it all, but part of me knows they knew more than they wanted to. They didn't know how to fix it. Most would think that this means they didn't love me. However, that couldn't be further from the truth. The problem was that they loved Liam and me equally . Therefore, they remained quiet and acted ignorant of the problem because it was easier than admitting that there was a problem and the possible consequences that would occur if they tried to 'fix it.' They didn't want to lose Liam, but they never realized that there was still a consequence, which was losing myself at the young age I did.

I'm not that full of life, little girl like I once was. I'm no longer that free spirit that radiated happiness. Liam hated her . So he did whatever he could to beat her down until she no longer existed. I not only knew the devil, but we also shared space and a last name. He made damn sure that when he sank his claws into me, that he'd ruin me completely, and that he did. Mission accomplished.

Although I was ripped of my natural light, I found pieces of myself again when I found him —pieces that only one broken soul could see in another—kindred spirits that trauma bound and fused. We were two halves, and only together did we make a whole.

That was until the darkness crept in and had its way. Like it always did .

For people like us, believing in lifelong happiness was more than just a reach; it was a dangerous game. We gambled on it and took the chance. Now, we pay the price.

I may wear my mask and cloak of unaffectedness, and I wear it well if I say so myself. I've always been able to hide behind my ability to fake a perfect smile, the same ability that gives the perceived notion that I have the strength to handle anything. The truth is, I was cursed to be an empath. Although I hide it excellently, I do feel immensely and intensely. I feel to the point that it makes me numb, and it hurts to breathe.

Happiness was never in the cards; although it took a while, I finally accepted it.

Life after their deaths was damning me to my purgatory, and I took my sentence without question because I knew the part that I played in it.