Just Anne

              Bloodshot and lifeless eyes looked back at me as I stared at myself in the mirror inside my bathroom. A pained smile graced my lips as my hand touched the dark circles under my eyes that intensified the paleness of my skin.

            “You’re tired…,” a voice inside my head uttered weakly.

            I stared at myself longer, absorbing how all these years had changed me. A bitter laugh escaped my throat as realization dawned on me; I’m no longer who I was. This person staring back at me is just the empty vessel of who I used to be. She’s just the reflection of what I’ve become after life was taken away from me.

            “You’ve sunk too far, haven’t you?” the voice grumbled.

            My fingers instinctively stroke my reflection on the mirror, before a familiar urge coursed through my veins. I shook my head forcefully, trying to flush out the feeling. I no longer want to give in, I wanted it to stop. But no matter how hard I try I’ve already reached the point of no return. The more I became sober, the more the urge grew stronger and stronger. I dug my nails into my palms to control it; but I couldn’t stop it, not on my own.

            “But who are you going to call?!” it asked in pain. “You have no one left.”

            My hands were shaking and sweating uncontrollably, I have to think fast. Yes, that’s my only hope. I sprinted towards the stash of liquor I hid under my bed.

            “Stop!” it cried helplessly. “Please stop!”

I chose to ignore the pleas of the voice inside my head and pursued my desire. I grabbed a bottle and then, emptied its contents on my mouth. I drank hungrily straight from the bottle, sighing in satisfaction as my body relaxed.

            “I should’ve just died.”

            Fresh hot tears welled from my eyes. Now I recognize the voice. Now I know who’s keeping me from going insane. The voice inside my head is the ghost of my innocent self that was destroyed in the process. I am her, and she is me.

            “Please come back to who you are once.”

I want to, I really want to but I can no longer turn back. I’ve already fallen to depravity, and someone as tainted as I am is no longer suited to return to someone as pure as was.

“Stop thinking that!” she cried in hysterics.

The memories of that night flashed in my mind. My knees buckled and I tumbled on the ground dropping the bottle of liquor in the process. Like a child, I wrapped my arms around my legs and cradled them as I cried my heart out.

            “Make it stop. Please, make it stop,” she pleaded.

            I reached for the bottle and drank from it greedily, in attempt to zone out the images, but the remaining contents weren’t enough. I need more. I need more.

            “I need more...more…more…” she seconded.

            I forced myself to stand in order to grab another bottle of liquor. An anger-filled scream made its way from my throat. My supply had run out, my road to escape this prison had just been blocked.

            “I’m lost.” the two of us duet.

            I heard his voice echoing in my head: his taunts and threats, his malicious laughter and eerie actions. That moment, the voice inside my head and I became one.

            “Help me. I beg you please help me.” I begged.

            “You are a murderer!” his voice echoed.

            “No, I’m not.” I hastily defended.

            “You’re a killer!” he screamed at me, his dying form flashing in the eyes of my mind.

“No, I’m not.” I argued, with tears angrily pouring from their source.

            “No one will ever love you!”

            “Someone will.” My mind responded weakly

“No one will want a trash like you!” he screamed angrily, his voice reverberating through the walls of my inner mind.

“Someone will.” I cried.

“No one will save you!” he taunted even further.

“You’re lying!” I screamed angrily. “You are lying!”

I grabbed the closest thing to me (the empty bottles of liquor) and with a battle cry I furiously flung it across the room. The crashing sound resonated inside my room that it lingered long enough to overpower the taunts of my father. Bottles were hurled on the wall one after the other, till all there’s left were the broken pieces of glass scattered on the ground.

“Make it stop! Please end my sufferings,” I called out to no one in particular.

The shattered pieces of glass that glistens under the moonlight allured me and sent my mind into frenzy.

“This is it.” I uttered.

I clutched one of the larger pieces, not minding the sharp edges digging on my palm. My attention then was averted to my arm. Slowly, I dragged the glass against my skin. Straight, curve, random, I’m quite sure I no longer have a pattern. Warm, viscous liquid poured out from the cuts that I made, as the scent of iron filled my nostrils. I smiled manically.  

“This is really fun.”

I stripped my jeans exposing the subtle skin of my thighs and legs.  

“Stop me. Someone, please stop me!” the voice called out.

Without hesitation, I rammed the glass on my thighs viciously.  

“One… Two… Three…” I counted but I can’t keep up.

I drew images, using my body as the canvas. I laughed as loud as I can. I raised my hand that clasps the glass, and with one swift swing I embedded it on my wrist. I grinned.

“I’m free,” I uttered.

White blotches covered my vision as my head became lighter… and lighter… and lighter. The white blotches turned into black. Then, I felt like I was being sucked in an endless void. I waited and waited till my breath became ragged. I gasped one last time before everything went dark.

I was gone.

Now that I’m gone, let me tell you a secret. I am Anne, the daughter of the richest businessman in town. Everyone thought my life was easy, breezy, and perfect. I’m the only daughter of the richest business personality in town after all, but it was far from that. They were all wrong.

My mom died when I was 5, of course you would’ve known that. It was reported in the news. My mom died that night, but she’s not the only one who died, my dad as well. The father that I’ve come to know vanished. While the abusive side of my dad debuted. He started hitting me for no reason; he beat me black and blue. When I told my teacher what happened she even accused me of lying. Of course who would think that a business tycoon as great as my father would abuse his only daughter?

On the night of my 9^th birthday my father took my virginity. Right after that night, abusing me physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually became his hobby. It was the beginning of another form of torture inflicted on me.  I didn’t bother reporting or telling anyone again, no one would believe me anyway. In their eyes I’m nothing but an attention-seeking brat who’s only after her parents’ riches.

A year ago, my father was declared missing. Guess what, I snapped. I killed him. I maimed his body and then threw his body away. I cleared all the evidences; I threw all of them along with him. Do you want to know how I ended his life? It’s as simple as reciting the alphabet. I skinned him alive then gouged his eyeballs. I cut his tongue, and pulled out every nail in his fingers and toes. I castrated him using my own hands and then chopped his member off. I opened his torso without anesthesia, and dissected his organs part per part. I made him feel the 13 years of pain he inflicted on me. He deserved it.

In the end I learned that in this world it’s either kill or get killed, or is it? Don’t pity me. Don’t cry for me. Don’t shun me. I’m not a murder; I’m Anne, part Fortunate, part Anne. What can I say, I’m just little Anne Fortunate, the daughter of Mr. Fortunate.