Hell Is When Your Mother Kills You
Prologue
My mother was the kindest, gentlest most loving graceful woman to ever set foot on the face of this earth. Now I know that a lot of people feel that way about their mothers or fathers, however mine was truly exceptional.
I grew up in an extremely physically, mentally, emotionally and psychologicaly abusive home for about four years.
My paternal father spent more than 30 years of his life in prison for multiple crimes. That side of my family were coyotes and drug dealers. Real gangsters.
My mother divorced my father when I was four and dated quite a few men.
My mother was beautiful. The true kind of beauty that comes from the soul and heart. She had to beat them off with a stick.
When I was eight years old, she married a man from Oklahoma, who was a Green Beret in the Vietnam War.
The kind of guy they sent out to take out battalions alone. The kind of guy that had ear necklaces.
He was covered in tattoos on every part of his body except his hands and above his neck. He even had a tattoo on the inside of his lip.
At some point in the marriage, he changed drastically and began to beat my mother unmercifully. And he did the same to me, when mom couldn't stop him.
What he did to me mostly was psychological abuse. He would tell me I was worthless and a bastard and no one loved me or wanted me, pretty much on a daily basis.
When he would abuse me, my mother would turn into a demon from hell to protect me.
No lie, her fearlessness and selflessness saved my life many times.
I'm telling you this about her and I and Johnny because I want you, the reader, to understand that this sleep paralysis nightmare I had recently, was easily one of the most terrifying dreams I've ever had. I never remember my dreams. I don't know if it's from all the cannabis I injest, or if I just don't remember them. This is the nightmare.
The Hell
I fell asleep about 1130. I took some melatonin to try and get some good rest. I never take it, so I don't know if it had something to do with it.
In my nightmare, I knew I was awake. My door was closed and I have a blue night light that I keep on, while I sleep.
As I drifted into REM, I began to hear banging on my door. Angry, hateful and terrifying banging.
Eventually the door opened.
My mother was in the door way,, however, this was not the woman I knew.
Her eyes were black as coal and looked like saucers.
At first, I couldn't really fathom what I was seeing. She kicked the door wide open with so much force it came off the hinges.
She stood in the doorway just glaring at me with a hate and disgust that would normally be reserved for murders or people who hurt children.
As she entered my room, the sleep paralysis started to really take hold. I couldn't move. I couldn't wake up, even though I knew it was a dream.
She said to me, "You're a failure. Every thing you've ever done, you have never succeeded . You're an embarrassment to me , your family and your grandfather."
Who she knew I worshipped like the god I don't believe in.
When she came into the room, she had a large wooden spoon. And I mean like really big. Like a caricature of a spoon.
She got closer to my bed, the sleep paralysis not allowing me to move, or scream, or talk.
She proceed to beat me unmercyifully with the spoon. Finally I began to be able to speak.
I begged her to stop.
"Mom, why are you doing this to me?, I asked her.
"I'm your son, I love you more than life itself, please stop, you're hurting me!", I cried in disbelief.
She said to me, "This is what you deserve. This is the hell you've brought upon yourself, and you will suffer for it."
Finally, in my dream, I managed to stand up to try to stop her.
She continued beating me with the spoon, for so long and with such force, that it broke.
After it broke, she got as close to my face as possible and said to me
"Now, I'm going to kill you, you worthless excuse of a son."
When the spoon broke, it broke into a kind of stake, or essentially a wooden knife.
She then proceeded to stab me, over and over and over again, until I died.
Now, I'm my mind, I knew this was a dream. However it was so vivid and terrifying it felt more real than anything I've ever experienced.
I could feel each puncture, I could smell her breath, which reeked of death. She stabbed me 25 times, don't ask me how I know the number, however somehow that was the number.
The mind is an amazing, beautiful and sometimes a horribly terrifying thing.
After I fell back in my bed, bleeding profusely, and drifted off to death, the dream began again.
The same exact dream. To the smallest nuance.
The only thing that would change would be the things whe would say to me.
"You're a loser. Your father never wanted you, and didn't even care enough to try and save you from death. You know why? Because you are a worthless, selfish, disgusting excuse of a man, and I hate you with all my heart. I wish you were never born."
Again she beat me with the spoon. Again the spoon broke, I stood up to try and talk to her and tell her I was sorry and that I loved her. She stabbed me another 25 times. I fell to the bed in fear, disbelief and again, I died.
Again the dream started. The same fucking dream. The same woman I loved and worshipped, my best friend in the whole world, beating me, killing me.
Over, and over and over and over and over and over again.
When I finally woke up from the nightmare, I was in a complete panic attack.
My blood pressure was pounding in my head.
I wept. For hours.
And then it hit me. This would be my Hell. If a god did exist and there was an afterlife, a good place and a bad place, this would be my hell.
The worst part, was that I believed it. Every word. It took me hours to calm down and eventually fall back to sleep. It wasn't sleep, it wasn't rest, it was a psychological relief of some kind.
Hell is when the woman you love more than life, the woman who sacrificed everything for her son. Her safety. Her life on the line, everyday with that maniac.
Hell
Is
When
Your
Mother
Kills
You
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2 comments
Jf Alcala
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Hell Is When Your Mother Kills You
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