Alkimos' Story

My childhood was neither the best nor the worst. But it was an experience I would never wish upon anyone. My aunt is actually the one who named and raised me at first, she was meant to be a mother. She was the nicest person I’ve ever known even to this day. She named me Alkimos because it means valiant, she believed I would grow up courageous and determined to do what was right. But tragedy struck my life and spiraled it down out of control at the young age of seven. That’s when she died, I don’t quite know how it happened but I just know it did. That’s when I was put with my actual parents. This was the moment I was thrown into hell.

Basically, my parents were not meant to be parents at all. They were drug addicts and alcoholics and because of that they had temper issues and violent outbursts. I was pretty much the equivalent of a stress ball, torn apart to make them feel better. I was completely at their mercy for my entire childhood, never able to escape. They beat me and mutilated me, and I never got through a day unscathed. I tried my best to keep away and hide but they would go around the house on a drunken rampage, seeking me out. They always found me because our house was small so there weren’t many places for me to hide, especially as I got bigger. I never really did anything bad, they just hated their lives and blamed me for everything that went wrong. It was an easy solution for them, drown themselves in alcohol and shift the blame to people who had nothing to do with the problem.

The day my father lost his job because of his inability to actually work, caused by his addictions and temper, he took it out on me. This was one of the worst days of my life, there are actually 2 and a half. The half is the day that changed my life completely, it started out terrible but ended pretty good. But I’ll get to that later. So, the day he lost his job he took an extremely dull kitchen knife and was raving at me about how everything was my fault and I should never have been born. I wasn’t paying as much attention to what he was saying as I was to the hand holding the knife. He noticed me watching it and it made him even more furious because I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying so then he lunged at me. I ducked and ran but he tackled me and held me down, my back to the floor. He tore the knife across my skin on the bridge of my nose, from under one eye all the way across to the other side. I was never taken to the hospital to fix my bleeding face so I had to try and fix it myself. It didn’t work out well and now I have a huge ugly scar across my face. But this wasn’t the worst wound he inflicted upon me.

I don’t quite remember the reasoning behind this one, I might have broken a dish by accident or something like that since it happened in the kitchen. But my mother was part of this one, she held me down in the chair while my father pinned my arm down on the table and took a kitchen knife. He had some fascination with knives and cutting things because that was always his weapon of choice against me. But he drove it down on my ring finger and separated it from the rest of my right hand. And once again I was not taken to a hospital because then it would become apparent they were abusing me. So once again I had to find some way to close the wound myself. This one was a bit easier to fix up but it still didn’t look all that great. By this time I was pretty good at closing my wounds well enough so they wouldn’t bleed everywhere and become infected.

Even though I went through a lot of abuse, my life was nowhere near the worst. One day my parents were passed out on the couch with the TV on so I decided to watch it for a bit. Times like these were my only chance to see what happened in the rest of the world, I was never allowed to watch TV or associate much with kids at school. The show caught my interest because it was about these billionaire twins who were abused by their father. I sat in the doorway, out of my parent’s view in case they woke up, and watched. They were Georgia and Patterson Duke, horribly abused by their father and even some nannies. Their lives were far worse than mine, treated like slaves and dead bolted in their rooms at night. Their father abused them in public but not many people intervened because they were afraid it would end badly since he was rich. But the twins were frequently locked in their basement full of feces and subjected to scalding baths that would burn their skin. It was just horrid.

But watching that show kind of helped me in a way, I knew I was not the only one abused. But it also made things worse in my mind because just the fact that things like that happened around the world to so many people was depressing. But their pain and suffering ended and I was happy for them. And I wished that would happen with me eventually, and it did. This was that half bad and half good day I had.

My parents forced me into the car for a drive. This was very strange because they never let me leave the house other than going to school. I was terrified, the first thing that came to mind was that they were going to take me somewhere quiet and end my life. But they silently drove for two hours, I have no idea how long exactly. But then they stopped at a deserted building, I think it was a former grocery store long out of business. My father got out of the car and dragged me out of the back seat. I was dragged and thrown onto the ground pretty far from the car and he ran back and sped away as fast as the car would go. I have no idea why they did that, maybe they were just done with me and thought that would be the solution to all their problems that they seemed to think were all my fault. But they left me in an abandoned parking lot all by myself in a place far from home. It was winter and I was freezing but I was finally free and that was all that mattered to me.