The Dark Journey
Chapter 23 - Slavery: Third Run
Part 1



You took my hand and led me
to the brink, the edge of it all
you made me look down
at the puny things below
wandering about in their myopic existences
caring nothing about the rest of humanity
wending their ways along set paths
unheeding, unfeeling
you took me then to the window
implored me to look inside
at the happy family rejoicing
in the glow of holidays' warmth
I stood and stared at the four of them
mother, husband, son and daughter
knowing that their joy for life
I could never feel
It was here that next you led me
within these darkened walls
no windows, no ceiling, no fixtures, no floor
and here is where you left me
with that sparkle in your eye
thinking that in here i would stay
that in this place i would die
delusions and confusions confounding my mind
i sank deeper into the mire
blood-caked ruinous revelry
the dogs have their day and
the pigs are in total control
Suddenly a voice rang out
small and light as eiderdown
and I finally heard its message
'come out, come out' it called to me
'turn your back on the blackness within'
and I looked about me and I saw
the grinning faces of dead men
hot saliva dripping off of blood stained fangs
and they chanted as they tore my flesh
in words of chaos, bringing hell into my soul
I picked myself up off the dank and musty ground
shook off the groping grasping claws
fell down, hauled myself up again
running, screaming, for the door
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Life became more and more of a nightmare as summer faded into autumn. It really didn't matter much though. I had given up. There was nothing left inside of me except the desire of death and an ending to this madness. I knew in my heart that this is how it would end, that he and his friends would someday kill me and bury my body out in the hills somewhere. I was ok with that. The sooner the better.

The more listless I became, it seemed the more he would torment me. The burnings became more frequent as did the beatings. The less of a reaction he got from me the more he would try for one. My one hope was that he would end this soon, and it began to seem as if he would. Then, in early October, everything changed. I missed my period.

I found out that I wasn't quite as willing to die as I had thought. I began to think of ways to escape again, to carry this child away from the depravity I was entangled in and start a new life ... somewhere. I wondered how long it would take him to realize, and decided that it wouldn't be long. I tried to think of a way of getting out, but I had no money, no way of moving fast, which I knew was the key to my escape. I couldn't do it on foot as I had tried the last two times. I was waking up after a long sleep, and spent the next few weeks trying to figure out how to make my move.

It was early November when he came home stinking drunk and beat the crap out of me for no apparent reason. I had been lying on the couch reading (thinking mostly about how to get out of my predicament) when I was suddenly yanked up into reality and reality was the true nightmare.

When his heel came down on my bare foot the pain was immense. My bladder let go and he ground his heel hard onto my foot. He was no longer yelling, just grinning at me as he held me there, fingers dug into my upper arms, holding me erect. I saw my death in his eyes as surely as I had seen the new life in my own lately. So, this would be the end, just when I had found a reason to live. It was unfair, but who says the world is fair?

I had pulled my foot, the left one that he had mangled with his boot, back and he pushed me backwards, forcing me to plant my foot again to keep my balance. Then his boot came down again. My leg was a mass of agony and the tears were streaming down my face as I shook my head in denial of what was happening. He laughed and did it again. And again.

There was a burning hot liquid fire in my foot and the rat of panic was loose in my mind, eating away any sense or coherence that was left. He let go and I sank slowly to the floor as he hit me in the face, the chest, sent a knee under my chin which knocked me backwards against the couch and finally I landed on the floor. I curled up into a fetal position as he kicked me in the back twice. There was nothing else I could do. He kicked a few more times, before I lost conciousness from two rough kicks to my head.

I came to in a fog of pain. At least he wasn't kicking me anymore. I lay there for I don't know how long not daring to move or make a sound. I could hear some muffled snores above the buzzing that was going through my own head. I listened for a few minutes to see if it was really snoring I heard or just my own imagination. I tried moving, but my body screamed out at the effort and I lay still again. The fear of death was coming hard into my mind now, and I realized that I really didn't want to die, not like this, not now.

I pulled myself up to my knees, biting back the moans and sobs at the pain in my back and side. My head spun for a few moments, then cleared. I couldn't stand up. It hurt way too much. I brushed the tears from my eyes, but my vision was still blurred. I started pulling myself forward with my hands. My left foot was throbbing and when it made contact with the floor I had to stifle a scream.

As I moved forward I focused on something lying on the rug in front of me. When I got close enough, I reached out to pick up this thing to get a better look at what it was. I brought it before my bleary eyes and let out a sob as I realized what it was. No wonder my foot hurt so bad. I dropped the bit of my own flesh in mingled horror, disgust and terror. It was one of my toes.

I think this sparked something within me. I was not going to let it end this way. Hate came through and completely engulfed me as I crawled my way to the bedroom where he snored loudly now, sleeping off his bourbon haze.

I made it to the closet and used the door to pull myself erect. There was a creaking, groaning from my back and the nausea from the pain threatened to overwhelm me. I fought it back through sheer hate and determination to deprive him of the satisfaction of killing me.

My hand brushed through the things hangin there and came up against his 'tool belt'. I felt along its length until I found the holster. I drew the weapon out and held it unsteadily in my hand, staring at it. So many thoughts were racing through my mind, and when I came back to myself the safety was off and I was pointing it at his head on the pillow as he snored.

"Why shouldn't I?" I kept asking myself. I could think of a thousand reasons why I should do this thing. Repayment for everything. I could collect right now. The thing that stopped me was the thing that had awakened me from my stupor in the first place. There was no way I could jeopardize this life within me.

Slowly, carefully, I lowered the pistol and set it on the bed next to his head, barrel facing him, safety off, round chambered. I stood there for a few minutes wondering if this was really the right thing to do. I could stop this man from ever hurting anyone again. Shivering I turned away and went about my tasks.

I grabbed a few things from the closet, and after a bit of hard mental struggle, I let go of the door, swayed for a few seconds, refused to collapse, and moved slowly to the dresser. Carrying my armload of clothes, I made my way to the kitchen and got a plastic trash bag to stuff it all into. I made my way back to the living room to find my shoes, placing my bag on the floor near the door. I found the left shoe, but the right was no where to be seen, so I sat on the couch to put on the one I had found.

The agony which shot up my leg was intense and overpowering and my foot began bleeding again. I hobbled back out to the kitchen and got a dishrag to wrap around my foot, made my way back to the couch and put the shoe on. I nearly lost consciousness again as the pain made its slow trip through my body. I made myself breathe, in gasping sobs at first, and then, slowly, into a ragged semblance of normal breathing.

I couldn't find the other shoe, and was resigned to making my way half barefooted. I picked up my bag and reached for the doorknob when I heard Jaker holler out in his sleep. I stopped, galvanized, with my hand on the doorknob, fear racing through my mind that he would come out now and see me. I knew that if this happened, I was as good as dead. I waited. No sounds came for a few moments, and then his snoring resumed. I let out my breath and turned back towards the door, and noticed my other shoe under the tv stand. I thanked God for small favors, slowly crouched down and retrieved it, and using the doorknob for balance, slipped it on, turned the knob, and slipped out into the night.


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