My Redemption

At twenty one years old, I lost every battle against the PTSD and depression I faced. Reality, memories, and life itself seemed orchestrated to annihilate me. Homeless and blinded by despair, I turned to the bitter lifestyle and cold comfort of substance abuse in a last ditch attempt to escape. 

That year of my life was unlike any other, shaping the future in ways I never could have imagined. Everything of value I owned was stolen from me by people I trusted. I cut myself off from friends and family because I knew they would be disappointed in me. My support system dissolved and I lost faith in the future.
I took shelter in a shed, death imminent from an infection rampaging through my blood. My car, phone, and wallet had been stolen. I was exhausted, hungry, and in indescribable agony. I was content to let myself die that night, falling asleep to the sound of rain cascading over the wooden shed.

A good Samaritan took me in, got me to the hospital, and nursed me back to health. I fell in love, got clean, became pregnant, and had a son. I wish I could say my PTSD was miraculously cured. I wish I could say that these last four years of motherhood haven't held their own trials. I worked two jobs, powered through weeks of overtime, attended countless treatment meetings, and finally managed to provide a stable home for my son. 

I've written this in the hopes that my story will encourage others to keep fighting for the people they love. My destiny wasn't to die alone in that shed or to drown in drug addiction for the rest of my life. I have strength of conviction and purpose. Anders knows I love him more than anything and influences every decision I make.

My past is an inspiration thanks to the love, support, and faith of people around me. My life story isn't merely comprised of suffering and abuse. I was given the blessing of a second chance and have been on a mission of self improvement ever since. Teaching Anders his letters and watching him grow is fulfilling beyond my capacity to describe. 

God blessed me with a baby boy who saved my soul and soothes my pain. Anders is the reason for everything I've done right. For my redemption.

Clock

Another sign of what awaits me.
Passes by and leaves me shaking.
Petrified, feel myself breaking.
Dim the light. Tears will not save me.
Mystified, fearful and pacing.
Soothing lies, futile words wasting.
You deny. Prefer obfuscating.
Heart ache our future, bleeding deeply.
Mistaken you'll choose her Forsake me.
Abandoned to suffer. Someday seek.
Tore our love asunder. Irreparably.
When you end this it's over. You'll have lost me.
Never mended, no closure. Clock's ticking.

Embers

A cautious beast, rigid conviction.
Scouts from trees before each action.
Clearest view of her position,
Quivers with anticipation.
Searing cold fire, restrained passion.
Struggles to silence such attraction.
Surrender bends until it's fractured.
Adventure can summon disaster.
Watchful steps forward, now he has her.
Lambent embers draw her closer.
And she prays this means he chose her.

Spire

~~ Second Class

Ivy’s conflagrant blue eyes glowered petulantly down at the gargantuan needle the malevolent nurse from hell was sticking her with, “I hate this place. How many days will it take of drawing blood to figure out that I’m not Catwoman?”

The elderly woman put a cap on the last vial and placed a small bandage on her arm before responding, “You’ll be one of the first to die this term, I think.”

Parker entered the sterile room and nodded dismissively at the nurse, who bowed and left without a glance back. “Still making friends, I see?”

“Must be charisma,” Ivy leered.

“These vain attempts to put me off with that noxious attitude must be frustrating for you,” Parker sympathized.

“Thanks for the girl talk, guy. But I’ll take a rain check on eating cookie dough in our pajamas,” She hopped off the doctor’s table. Parker was a full foot taller and twenty years older than she. Uninhibited insolence and aggression were all she and her brother demonstrated.

“I fear the defiance which drives you now will soon fracture your sanity. It’s tragically common for despair to overwhelm those such as you once they’ve adjusted.” Parker adjusted his extravagant silk tie and insouciantly handed her a straight razor.

Ivy blinked, stunned.

Isaac blocked a wayward haymaker from his mutually reluctant sparring partner and glanced at the instructor with uncertainty and disdain. Focus was a fickle bitch since the security personnel separated him from Ivy. More matches tanked than won, more professors pissed than pleased, and more restless nights than sleep. Grueling as physical drills were, they were eminently more pleasant than the excruciating experimental punishments he’d undoubtedly be forced to endure again if he refused. Memories of the last bone marrow extraction the facility surgeons had given him were sufficient motivation to get his head in the game.

A rush of self-preservation adrenaline sparked reflexes he’d never previously been aware of. Isaac’s opponent was afraid, clumsy, and weak. A quiet voice in the back of his mind asked what Ivy would think of the beast astir within him. But the question was soon drowned out completely by the cold truth: if he did not exhibit ample savagery in front of the instructor, he’d never see his sister again.