Chelsea's Story Part II:
I loved to read and write, which was why my failing grades in school confused my family. Everyone knew I was brilliant with anything ink-on-paper-related. I read quotes daily like from Walt Disney all the way to Gandhi. I even begged my mother to buy me shirt with quotes on them to feed my passion. A book was my happiness in a world where my innocence was being forced out by a grown man.
My favorite shirt was from Forever 21. It sold me a dream that was much worse than Walt Disney, but I loved it. It said something adorable like "Love: To have a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person". Every time he did his dirt, he'd tell me he "loved" me so, once again, I was being sold dreams money couldn't buy. I knew in my heart it wasn't love, but it made the pain go away. I had convinced myself that only people in love could have sex at 14 and age 30 years old.
He, like all of his friends, was tall with a gigantic beer belly that wanted a hug every time he came over to our house. I always tried to hide from him, and the family thought it was adorable that I hid. What idiots to not notice the tell-tale sign of sexual abuse; if a child fears an adult, chances are, there's a reason. BUT, I can only be mad at myself for not telling.
The quotes eventually stopped making sense and I had to find a new way to cope. I decided that I would normalize the situation and seek the attention of older men, since they seemed to smell the horrid stench of my statutory rape. With that decision, I built up a numbness and a disregard for human life, specifically men. I figured they were all the same and declared the ultimate revenge on the male species. I was determined to take them out one by one. I unleashed my hatred for "HIM" and let it bubble up into sadist behavior. As for sex, I turned it into a weapon that would clear anything in my path. The first item on my list was "him," who I was committed to wiping off the face of the earth, along with his accomplices.
I had it all planned out, their murders. I'd drug them and slice them into pieces smaller than my self-worth. I'd make them feel everything!
After years in the making, at 17 years old, my plan was a success and I later killed 12 more men in place of my father and his friends. I called him a family friend in the beginning because him and my mother split when I was 3 years old, but he re-entered my life later to destroy it; therefore, he is a "family friend" rather than "Dad." In addition, no father rapes his daughter so in that, he isn't my own. Thankfully, the hurt little girl I was, transformed into a ruthless annihilator with a mission. I'd pick the additional kills up on dating sites where older men sought out underage girls and then I'd lure them into meeting me for their deaths. After, I'd even tag their bodies with the message "never hurt another". I removed these men from society at my own will to protect other little girls from becoming like me.
The funny thing is, I never really killed any of those men. It all happened in my mind and I figured I'd turn it into a book, the story I created to actually cope; I used writing as an outlet for an escape. My reality was harsh, but my words gave me hope. Hence, I turned cruelty into a novel to help adult victims of sexual abuse feel like they had a hero. I wrote it from my real experiences and created a character who would, in the end, get the revenge I that was too scared to attempt. I am Chelsea and that was my story about a nameless protagonist who turned into a killer.
