The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry One-Hundred and Six :.

My name is Elliot Parker. Yes, I was finally getting what was left of my belongings but what happened that day still isn’t over.

So as I was packing Madam came upstairs and asked me “how much have you told him?” I said we were only having a conversation; could she leave me alone so I could get on with it. She disappeared back downstairs for a few minutes and came back upstairs this time she said “you told him nana was giving me money” I responded in saying that it’s the truth. I told her to leave me alone again. I suppose she went back downstairs yet again talking to him. By this point all that I could say was that I was proud of myself for not flying off the handle or anything. Even though, it probably would have made me feel better she would have found a way to create a victim stance against it.

Well the next time she came up she said “it’s all your fault I am losing everything you ruined everything. I’m losing you and I’m losing him and it’s all your fault.”

My fault? Really? Because I told one ridiculous lie after another, played everyone off of one another to get what I wanted and then blamed everyone else when it got found out? Are you freaking kidding me? None of this was my fault. I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t want any of this. I told her to leave me alone but she didn’t she just kept on blaming me and trying to make me feel bad and guilty that she got told off so I finally raised my voice and told her to leave me alone. She walked away and went back downstairs. I finished packing my stuff. It was a few carrier bags full when you took out what was broken and damaged.

Sure I felt even more bitter, they had thrown out the bedside unit of my grandads that I had inherited and it hurt more, she had stolen my last chance to say goodbye to him years ago as it was by taking her then boyfriend now *vomits more in the mouth* husband up there to see him. I couldn’t hate her more if I tried in that moment, another memory stolen, ruined and desecrated by lies. More lies and more of her making herself a victim and making herself more and what she wants more important than anyone else.

Her *eww* husband helped me carry my stuff down stairs and into the front garden. I said a goodbye and I said “quite frankly I am proud of myself for keeping my shit together and not letting my temper fly. I made lots of progress.” Then I spoke to her directly this time “if you want any sort of forgiveness or to sort things out you need to go get help and sort yourself out. Go see a shrink.” I said goodbye the door closed.

Dyl came to my rescue, I took my stuff to him at the end of the road and he helped me carry it to his. As far as I am concerned I’ve never wanted him to meet her, for the simple reason, I don’t want her toxic influence to spread onto something that makes me so unbelievably happy.

On the way to Dyl’s I called my nana and told her every single thing that was said and done in those two hours all that I found out and she still didn’t believe me. She refused to believe Madam being married until she saw the certificate. I told her everything regardless. I told her simply that I am done with Madam. I told her that she will not ever come to my wedding when I get married, she will never meet any children I have and she will not be a part of my future. I told nana to not try to change that.

That evening, when it came to bed time, that was the first night that I cried and it felt like every cell in my body was crying too. It was like I was screaming on the inside and struggling to breathe through the tears. I lost so much in such a quick amount of time. My dog baby JJ, what little relationship I had left with my mother, what little connection I had with her, with my house, my home and my childhood, however good or bad was smashed and destroyed.

It felt like I had lost everything, but not quite, I know I had Dyl. But it felt like I had finally let go of those ropes that had been burning me and had me chained up and in agony for my entire life. Part of me couldn’t understand what I was crying about, I had my freedom. My entire freedom, something I needed and wanted for so long. I had it. Yet, all I could feel was this horrific feeling of loss. Like a giant black whale crushing me, like that elephant had come to destroy me with his friend. Breathing just hurt. Trying to hold it together was like trying to capture the ocean in your fingers. Impossible.

That was the start of me not being able to sleep properly at all. While I lay there all night in the dark, the warmth of Dyl beside me could only soothe the pain so much, I lay awake almost all night, unable to sleep. I saw nearly all the hours of that night other than two. When I woke up it began again. Trying to pretend like I was ok. Like rearranging the bags so that I could take them back to mine wasn’t tearing me to shreds inside. Being able to examine all the damage of what I could save close up. Remembering all the things I couldn’t, all the things that were absent from my rescue attempt.

Whats on your mind?

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