The Adopted Voight

Memories And Bruises

Adeline Rae

"The evil you know is better than the evil you don't".

I waved goodbye to Hank as I unlocked the front door, stepping inside to find the living room, where Greg, my stepdad, usually sat on the second hand couch drinking more alcohol and getting into a drunken stupor, peacefully empty and quiet.

I frowned as I looked at the clock which read 7.00pm. Greg was usually finished with work at 5.00pm so he should've been home by now, unless he had gone drinking with some of his buddies, causing trouble or getting into a fight. Oh well, I was just glad that his violence wouldn't be directed towards me tonight.

The empty house felt miserable compared to how I was just laughing and talking with Hank a few minutes ago at the diner, before I yelled at him. He unsettled me, with his calm and unfazed demeanor and how he had looked past my mask so easily to catch a glimpse of the frightened, vulnerable girl inside of me who I hid, who I had to hide, since everyone always wanted to take advantage of you. I had learned that lesson pretty quick in life but what made everything worse was that my life wasn't always this bad.

I could remember a time when I could be carefree, knowing that there were always two people in my life who'd protect me, but everything had changed in a matter of days. Both of them had left me alone, left me alone with Greg, leaving me to fend for myself in this harsh world while also dealing with Greg's abuse.

I knew Hank was right earlier when he said that I don't deserve this, don't deserve to be treated like this but no one ever got what they deserved. My mom and sister didn't deserve to die but they still did and Greg doesn't deserve to live but he still does, that was the harsh reality of the world. It was funny, I could still remember when I had viewed the world as idealistic and with awe and now I had become completely jaded, no I had to, to survive. I guess that's what happens when both of the people you love the most in this world die within a few months of each other, leaving a naiive 8 year old to deal with an abusive drunk and a cruel world.

Hank's parting words flashed back to me, "call me when you're ready to get out kid", he'd given me a choice unlike most of the people in ny life, he'd been patient with me even when I'd yelled at him and told him to stay away. I thought about his question. Was I ready to get out? Even though I wanted to be able to sleep at night without worrying about Greg barging through the doors, throwing a beer bottle at me, I knew that life would only get worse at a foster home. I knew Greg, I knew what made him angry, how hard he hit, when he was going to hit me, I could predict his actions to protect myself, in a way Greg was familiar, predictable, but going to a new home, I wouldn't know anything. After all, the evil you know is better than the evil you don't.

I walked up the creaky stairs, knowing which spots were the most creakiest, avoiding them out of habit. Even though Greg wasn't home, this house never felt like home, never felt safe, even when mom lived with us. Mom had dated Greg after my sister, Talia, had died and Greg had taken advantage of her vulnerable mental state, still grieving her daughter. Greg had introduced her to drugs and combining them with alcohol, causing her to soon die of an overdose, deciding the world wasn't worth living in anymore, now that her daughter had died, leaving her other 8 year old daughter behind in the hands of an abusive, violent alcoholic.

Mom had tried to get better though, before meeting Greg, she'd seen a doctor which I now knew to be a therapist specialing with grief. Mom was diagnosed with depression by the same therapist who also then sold her illegal drugs to "help" with her depression when in reality, he simply took advantage of her vulnerable state and made good money off of it once mom was addicted to the pills, and became fully dependant on them.

I still remember being confused when the woman who always wore a bright smile on her face became a shell of her former self. When she struggled to even get out of bed and slept in Talia, my sister's, room and refused to leave, claiming she wouldn't leave Talia even though Talia had already left us. Mom met Greg when she was already addicted to the pills and when Greg became her supplier after the doctor cut her off, Greg claimed that mom should 'work' for the pills since all she did all day was take a pill and stay in Talia's room.