It wasn't an easy life. When I was little. So many siblings competing for my mother's attention. My father was barely around, so that wasn't even a thought in our minds. We just wanted to be near momma.
It began when I was 4 years old. I was restless and going through the whole 'I know it all' stage. Momma was distracted with my annoying brother and 2 sisters so I saw my chance to wander into the woods. I had looked at them often, but to a 4 yr old, it's hard to imagine what wonders could be there when you have no sort of reason or logic to imagine what they could hold. All I knew is that going there was forbidden. I saw Momma snap at my brother once, when she caught him trying to go there. That was weird, as Momma is gentle. To see her so upset pretty much sent the message to the rest of us. The woods were off limits.
Except to me. At least that day. At least in my mind.
I looked around before I actually walked in. It was vast by my eye. The trail I intended to follow was narrow. It was a bright night (I think if it wasn't a full moon, it was at least half) and I didn't intend to go too far. Just far enough to to maybe grab a stick and bring it back for bragging rights. I was a brave 4 year old, after all.
I could smell him before I saw him. He reeked of alcohol and Old Spice. I was downwind, so yeah.That smell hit hard. He saw me. He was probably 5'8, stumbling a bit, overweight but..I don't know how to describe him. He was smiling and really did strike me as friendly. He picked me up, asking what I was doing here? Where was my family? Why was I so far away from them?
Oddly enough, I took to him. It's the first time I was treated as an individual, as opposed to one of many mouths to feed by a weary mother. Even at the age of 4, I appreciated the attention.
His name, as it turns out was Doctor Houghton Foster. He had a cabin in the woods where he would vacation. He happened to be out on a walk that night when he saw me. He was there (at his cabin) to clear his head regarding a very new experiment he wanted to try.
I ended up being the subject of that experiment. Before you judge him, please know he spent over a year making sure it would be safe before he used the injection with me. He treated me with kindness and utmost care. I had all but forgotten my family. When I did, I justified it as one less mouth for my mother to feed.
It hurt. It hurt a lot. Over the next 12 years. Doctor Foster explained to me that every step of the way there would be more progress coupled by more pain. He almost always seemed pleased with my results and would tutor me a few hours each day in school work.
By the time I was 18 most of the treatments were complete. I had successfully applied to a fantastic college in a nearby state that had excellent marks on the major I wanted.
As I was packing up and getting ready to go, Doctor Foster came out to give me a goodbye hug. He said "You aren't ready yet. I am so proud of you but I am worried about what is out there."
I chuckled. At this point I considered him my dad. He had certainly been the only father figure in my life that I have ever known
He handed me pepper spray "Keep this on your key chain and don't be afraid to use it"
I thanked him, closed the trunk and headed off to my new life. My independence.
The first week of college was actually unremarkable. My roommate Lacey is a flake, luckily she is also kind of a slut. Luckily because that means more often than not she is at one frat idiot's dorm or another and not bugging me in the room.
Actually, we have only had one disagreement. It happened the second week.
I went to get some of my tuna fish out of the refrigerator. I make it simple, out of the drained can add mayo and badda bing. TUNA
It was gone.
She flounced out of her room with a slut 101 robe on followed by possibly the ugliest guy on campus stumbling behind her with his fly open
Me: Have any idea where my Tuna is? Lacey: Oh that? He was hungry last night (she points to Superbad)
That's pretty much the extent of that. I digress.
2 days ago I was walking back to the dorm. It was 9:49 PM. I remember because I document all of my time in the lab, just so I can keep track of my studies.
This has nothing to do with the lab (I don't tink?)
All I know is I was by myself, walking (I am 5'4, 110 f) I heard footsteps. I'm not talking just one set of footsteps. By my ear It was at least 6. So that meant there were 3 people behind me.
I smelled Axe,malice and desperation.
I didn't want to turn around, that displays weakness (how did I know that?) and I certainly wasn't going to pull out pepper spray. I sensed that those following me would really not be easily deterred by an .8 oz can of spray.
I stopped. Don't ask me why I stopped. I can't tell you why. I heard them stop.
I whistled.
As in WHAT THE FUCK? I didn't even KNOW I could whistle. I'll be damned though, I whistled.
It wasn't long or anything to write about. Maybe people whistle when they are scared? I never even knew I could whistle.
Figuring the end was near I turned around and saw 3 absolutely stereotypical thugs. Hoodies and all.
I was told to give them my phone, take of my shirt and flash the goods, give them my wallet and atm code all at once (each had a demand)
Then all of a sudden I relaxed. I had been so frightened. Not anymore.
Thug #2 really didn't like that. "What's wrong with you, you c*nt? Don't you see what's in front of you?"
Me: "Yes. I also see what's behind you."
My mother and my brother finally found me. After they took care of business, we went back to the den. I certainly have a lot of explaining to do.
So does Docter Foster.
Submitted February 16, 2017 at 02:44PM by Jintess http://ift.tt/2lNYWCQ nosleep
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