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Just a Good Bad Guy
I never wanted this, I never wanted to be the villain, but someone has to fill that role. My name is Casper, and I wasn't always like this. I used to be the most empathetic, caring person. When I was 5 I started a club to give supplies to the homeless. I called it "The Helpers Club", I used to pick up litter from the ground. I was a good person, oh how that has changed. If I had told 5 year old me that by 14 I was a mass murderer, I think he would have a heart attack. I'll rewind a bit to how this happened. Let's start with when I was 12, when my parents enrolled me in a boarding school.
I was sitting in my room, reading a book. "Cassie! Pack a bag!" My mom yelled from downstairs, she was angry, she was always angry. I wanted to correct her but I knew it would only make her more persistent. I started packing some of my clothes in a bag, as well as a toothbrush and toothpaste, I had no idea much stuff to pack, or what to pack, or where I was going, or how long I'd be there. After getting all my stuff in a bag I went downstairs.
"Uh- Mom, sorry if this is rude, but where am I going?" I asked my mom. I didn't really care where I was going I just hoped it would be away from her. When I was still a baby my mom left my dad, she took me with her, not because she wanted me, but because she knew my dad loved me so much that she took me with her because she wanted my dad to be the saddest she could make him. She always says that taking me with her is her biggest regret.
"It doesn't matter where your going Cassie! God your so ungrateful." My mom started yelling, its like she gets some joy out of yelling at me. She droned on yelling about how selfish I was, and how she wished she had an abortion. You know the normal things. I sighed, why must my life be like this? Why couldn’t my mom had left me with my dad? Why couldn’t my mom just call me by the right name? Why? Why? Why!?
"Casper..." I whispered under my breath, correcting her. As soon as the words left my lips I regretted it. I clenched my eyelids together, holding my breath. ‘I can’t belive I just said that.” I thought, my brain started going into negative places of where I could be going. She could be sending me to an insane asylum, she could be sending me to the military, she could be sending me to the coal mines!
“What did you just say!?” My mom started to yell at me. “You are the most ungrateful person ever! This is why I’m sending you away!” I looked down, trying to keep myself from crying. My mom just kept yelling at me, I felt a tear drop come out of my eye and hit the wood floor. “Did you just stain my brand new floor!? Get going or the van will miss you. Otherwise, I’ll have to run you over myself!” My mom threatened. I was hoping she was kidding, but she looked completely serious.
I saw a white van coming, the kind your parents would warn you to stay away from. “Well Susan, goodbye.” I said, that was the first time I ever called my mother by her real name. I was sad, but more than anything I was furious, I was fed up from all the shit she put me through.
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Zren
When does the story reach the mass murderer part?
You ask some fair questions though, about why a mother would insist on keeping custody of an unwanted child.
I know some kids who are some of my friend's nephews, all between maybe 6 & 12. My husband and I go over to their family often and we'll play Pokemon or Yugioh with them. My friend is their father's sister ; it's the kids mother that is horrendously neglectful. They would often come back from their mother's house with unexplained bruises or without having eaten for the day. We could never understand why the mother insisted on primary custody when she clearly had no interest in the children, and why judges routinely show bias for the mother in spite of all evidence. Fortunately this has mostly been resolved through a glacially-slow investigation, and the kids only have to see her on weekends.
Mothers like yours and that one clearly have a cocktail of unaddressed mental issues and choose to project it onto their children, perpetuating a miserable cycle. Hope you can find support and a way to break out of it.
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