Blood in The Sand

All of the following events are inspired by true events, reader discretion is advised...

A clump of cells, formed from the conception of two fools desperately in love. Life begins at the center and, for most seems to be one of the few blessings allotted as compensation for a lifetime of tragedy and misdeeds. We look at life as something that holds no true value, unless we are met with insurmountable odds; only then do we find its meaning to be of any real value. As Jeremy would come to know, life would hold no such quality for a very long time.

This is his story.

Born in Houston, Jeremy lived in the more run-down side of the Heights. Only lived 10 minutes away from his church and was homeschooled. He had two older brothers, at the time, along with his parents. All of which he had thought were perfect and gracious. Being raised in such a confined life, he knew very little of how to interact with others and how to conduct himself in the presence of others. As such, growing up for young Jeremy was less than triumphant--ignorance became his lover and naivety would be his saving grace.

He was raised in between West Virginia and Houston, Tx, so he never really had a true place to call home. However, after many years of instability and travel, he had finally found home: a small, quiet home on Alexander street in Houston.

"BIBLE MAN!" he exclaimed. Jeremy really had a thing for trains, bionicles, and bible man. It was his 8th birthday--his only real birthday. As he rushed to the living room set to turn on the old VHS his parents had gotten him, his brothers and eldest cousin stopped him before he could insert the video.

"We don't wanna watch this, it's for babies." They were only 4 years older than him.

"But it's my birthday guys and I hardly ever get to use the TV! It's not fair." As he reached to place the VHS into the box, his siblings rushed over to manhandle his gift out of his hands and throw it out the door, only to lock him out of the house.

Jeremy had heard that siblings getting along would be tough, but he didn't think it would be like this. This was only one of many instances that he had been exposed to of abuse. His parents thought it was natural, either that or they were to uninvolved to notice, and his brothers were silver tongued when it came to covering their tracks so that they wouldn't be punished.

As the years passed, Jeremy learned about the cruelties of life and soon took them on as his own. He learned that innocence was only a 9 lettered word that was the security blanket of weaklings and that hatred was his only way out. His siblings would routinely physically and mentally abuse him: they would either hit him in the stomach or steal his clothes, forcing him to run to the other side of the house naked. Embarrassment and shame followed him around like a thick shadow, suffocating his every breath and restricting his every thought.

A day then came when this boy started hearing and seeing things that no one else did. Voices and figures exclaiming "You are worthless. You are nothing and your soul is already damned." Hands creeping out from under his bed as if they were reaching out from the depths of hell to claim their prize. Horrific figures in the corners of their darkened rooms, watching over the perturbed soul, ensuring that his demise was completely assured. All this only further afflicted Jeremy's mind further so, that all of what he was was nothingness of what remained at all. Of course his "all knowing" mother knew what was best, which wasn't a doctor or psychiatrist, instead it was her own diagnosis. A mother with absolutely no medical knowledge or history in any medical classes making an "official" diagnosis on her own child, talk about arrogance and pride. At the end of the day, her diagnosis of her child was Asperger's syndrome and Schizophrenia.

Yeah, sure, anyone could see how those could have been the problem with Jeremy, but no professional advice or counsel was sought after. Quite the image of perfect mothering, he was sure to say the least, and his Father? His father became more and more absent after a certain age. His father became a workaholic, with Jeremy only being able to see him for an hour, at the most, out of the week. He never really had fond memories of his Father and was always told certain thing about him that made him hate him almost immediately. Abuse always followed with the subjects concerning his father and siblings, so he never truly felt like he had a father figure to begin with. His mother was just as absent as his father, she thought that the occasional hug and pep talk made up for her lost time with him, but Jeremy knew the difference between parenting and her lack thereof.

As Jeremy's hate grew more and more each day, so too did his so-called "social life" deteriorate. His friends dwindled down to just a handful, he was kept in confinement to ensure that things went "according to plan" and he was punished more many things that were not his fault. Jeremy would follow up on dares, conform to how everyone acted, anything for that slice of life that he wanted, but it only ever ended in disaster. The abuse and abandonment only got worse.

The beatings were happening every day, made to look like accidents. He had been framed many times for stealing money, alcohol, drugs, and other personal belongings. He felt like he couldn't take it anymore, so he decided to take the only action that would have any meaning to him: he was going to kill his oldest sibling...

Many nights followed until he built up the courage to grab the knife and walk into his older brother's room, but as he stood there, a voice told him to spare his life...

"Why should I?! After all the pain he's caused, the innocence he's stolen, the crimes he's committed against me--why should he be spared?!" As Jeremy argued with this voice.

"Please spare him, if you do this, you will cause more pain and divide this family further. Your time will come..."

These arguments went on every night for the next month, until Jeremy gave up and decided to listen.

"I had the knife in my hand" Jeremy thought, "The world would've been better off without this piece of garbage living in it. The universe wouldn't have even blinked. It would be so easy to just let my arm fall and let gravity do the rest." But he went back to bed every single night. This never really fixed his anger though, but luckily enough, anger is what would save him in the years that proceeded these nights.

Did you like this story? Let's get this story to 5000 reads and I'll do Part 2!

Always remember, truth isn't always as innocent as we want it to be. Sometimes, blood must be spilled to reveal the hidden mysteries of our inner strength.