My Daunting Fiend

My Daunting Fiend

At church he was nice. He smiled with groundless kindness. At school he was polite. He hugged me with erroneous fondness. When he was with her, he was caring to me. He was encouraging with mistaken belief. He was my daunting fiend. When children are still young, they have many fears. Fears such as: spiders, heights, and even strangers. My fear was my daunting fiend. My fear kept me safe. Only sometimes. He came from far away. To this day I still do not know why he chose my home. It was not for her, not my mother. He hated her but still stayed. He spoke another language. My daunting fiend spoke the language of tulips and wooden shoes. Harmless right?

I remember the beginning like it was yesterday. I remember the beginning like it was only a moment ago. I liked the beginning. The beginning was false but happy. He came with stuffed animals and candy. He sang, danced and played board games. He was the friend I never had. That is how he got to me. I remember when my daunting fiend taught me how to ride a bike. I was so scared at first. He told me he believed in me so I tried harder and kept pedaling. When I crashed my bike into a tree, he helped me up. That was him wearing his guise. His mask , his costume , was so lifelike.  

I remember the ring. I helped with the ring. He made me help, and that was sick. I took part in my own pain. I can not only blame him. My daunting fiend made it a game. He took me to the sparkling store and made it seem like it was my idea. I picked the fairest diamond. The one my mother would like. Sadly I was right. She did not just like it; She loved it. My mother said Yes to the beast. It was insidious love. It did not take long for things to change. My fool’s paradise  was eradicated in a single shaky breath. It was a nightmare because it was not a dream.

My daunting fiend played with unjust rules. If I did not follow them, I was told that I could not play. If I did not bow and belittle myself, I was not allowed to participate in the game of life. I remember him being like me, like my age, but on the inside. He was not fully fit for the responsibility. He was not prepared to keep a smile on my mother’s face. He was not primed with acceptance, support nor open mindedness. My daunting fiend wanted things to go his way and only his way. He expressed his tenderness with an open hand. He revealed his fancy through closed fists. Sometimes when I did not nod in agreeance with his fabricated opinions, he would take me to meet the dark. The dark and I became close acquaintances. My mother would leave for work and I would leave for the dark. My daunting fiend would open the cellar door , push me in, and shut it back while locking it. He laughed at first. When I met the cold and lightless underground prison I cried at first. I weeped with uncertainty and fear of something coming to grab me and take me further down those basement steps. It never happened and I think he hated that.

I think I wanted a hand to hold. I think I wanted to be able to sit at someone’s feet and laugh at jokes. I had my joke but I had no laugh. My joke was my daunting fiend. He was hilariously cruel and enthusiastically a sham. He did not leave the house like my mother. It was not his choice though. No workplace wanted a beast from the tulips. He had to get a card made of green first, and that took years. Years that he was stuck at home with me. I would hold onto my mother. I would cling to her waist and tears would cower behind my lashes. She never listened, and if she did, she did not care. He did things awful. Things I would not say. Things I could not say. The beast thieved my purity.  

I did not tell a soul of the things he did. My daunting fiend took great pride into knowing my fear of the truth. His actions lurked in the shadows of my mind and I could not shake them. His theatricals of being a rolemodel kept me going. I wanted to see if he could keep his beautifully contemptuous sneer.