THE PAST
CAIDEN’S CONDITIONING
10 years old
I used to make a wish every night before bed. I yearned for my mother to return, to wrap her arms around me and shield me from my father’s wrath. In my dreams, her warmth enveloped me like a comforting blanket, the kind that promised safety and love.
But eventually, that fragile hope drained away, leaving only a hollow ache in its wake. There was no safety net for me, only survival and the constant need to hide in the shadows.
Each day, I faced the beast that was my father alone, a solitary warrior in a battle that felt never-ending. God forbid I ever took my anger out on the man who had become my tormentor.
I spotted her before she saw me. Her head hung low, golden brown hair framing her somber expression.
For a fleeting moment, a pang of sadness welled inside me as I considered her sadness. I had heard the whispers about her family, and in a way, I could relate. I too knew the ache of a parent leaving.
I shook my head, as if to dispel the thoughts swirling within. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, a harsh reminder of the past. A permanent sting throbbed beneath the surface of my skin, a painful testament to his viciousness.
I could vividly recall the first time I saw Amelia Langston. It had been in the woods, where sunlight filtered through the leaves.
She had been crying, her tears glistening like jewels on her cheeks, yet the way the light danced upon her face made my heart flutter unexpectedly. Her hair was a cascade of shimmering gold caught in the sun. I remembered thinking how beautiful she was, unsure of what to do with that realization.
I had yearned to be friends with Amelia once upon a time. She was quiet and sweet. Seeing her was my favorite part of school. Her smile, her laughter, her innocence. It provided a brief break from the storm that raged within me.
Yet behind her eyes lingered a profound sadness, a darkness that beckoned me to reach out, to comfort her. But I hesitated, uncertain of how to acknowledge it. At that tender age, everything felt new and overwhelming. I was just a small, helpless boy.
Then everything changed when my father’s monster slowly became unleashed. Each time I saw Amelia, a wave of nausea washed over me.
It started small, after my mother left. I could recall talking to Amelia, being friendly with her, not feeling the tidal waves of rage and hatred.
Now, at age ten, that friendliness had vanished.
The phantom of my bruises pulsed beneath my skin, igniting a heat that spread across my face.
My feelings for her became a weakness, a source of shame painted in dark hues. Wanting to be her friend, to harbor affection for her, seemed wrong. It would infuriate my father, and in that moment, it felt as if it would make me a bad son.
Those thoughts dragged me down into an abyss of despair. I craved approval from my father, longed for sparks of affection to light up his eyes, rather than the familiar glint of rage and disappointment that had become all too commonplace.
In a moment of resolve, I made a promise to myself. I would bury those tender feelings so deep within that they would never see the light of day again. I slaughtered them in my mind, scattering their ashes to the wind.
Amelia Langston became my enemy. Amelia Langston also became my pathway to redemption.
“Hey, Caiden!”
I turned to see my friend, Dante, jogging toward me, a welcome distraction from the storm brewing inside.
“What’s up, Dante?” I responded, a smile breaking through the heaviness. Dante was the only bright spot in my life, a friend who provided solace from the horrors lurking at home.
“Want to come to my house for dinner? We could kick around a soccer ball too.” Dante grinned as if he had no care in the world.
A perfect excuse to escape the beast that awaited me. “Sure, I’ll walk with you.”
The small town was quiet and unassuming, a place where crime was almost nonexistent. Most houses lay within walking distance, a feature I appreciated. I enjoyed the tranquility of the breeze and the peaceful solitude that accompanied my walks home.
As we began our path toward Dante’s house, a shadow flickered inside me. I loathed my father for what he had done to me. I resented Amelia for being connected to Judy. And I despised myself for my inability to stand up against my father, for allowing that darkness to shape me into a monster.
“Hey, Dante, watch this.”
A sudden surge of reckless energy coursed through me as I quickened my pace and collided with Amelia. She let out a startled cry, tumbling to the ground, landing in a puddle of mud.
