Whispers in the Dark: The Awakening
Chapter 1
Violet’s Demise
Vi gazed nonchalantly out of the window into the garden. It was a beautiful spring day. The flowers and plants were covered in a morning dew and each dew drop sparkled like a diamond as it reflected the sunlight. A tall tree reached out into the clear blue sky and the birds sang with the joy of a new day.
In sharp contrast, Vi perceived this scene as grey and dreary reflecting the way she felt inside, fatigued and desperate. Her slender figure and long dark flowing hair exhibited her natural beauty but the strain of life had severely taken its toll. A grey pallor eclipsed her porcelain-like skin and her beautiful pronounced features were drawn. Bereft of meaning and emotionally bankrupt, the distraught thirty-five year old assumed the countenance of a much older woman.
Vi had lived with partner, Tom, for twelve years at their bungalow which was close to the city of Lancaster, north-west England. She had fond memories of the former part of their relationship but somewhere along the way they had drifted apart. She had considered leaving him on several occasions but had a large investment in the safety and security the set-up provided, a fundamental need stemming from a turbulent childhood. The situation had become one of pure convenience, two people sharing the same house but never at home. Tom, though lacking charisma and enterprise, was a quiet, trustworthy man to whom Vi felt indebted. He had been a caring partner during a traumatic period of her life. Despite this, she spent most of her time avoiding him. He had a propensity to be extremely negative and inert. Vi’s many attempts to counter his negativity were to no avail: they constantly resulted in her feeling drained and depleted, her zest for life asphyxiated. She would often fly into rages, hurtling furniture across the room, as her frustration spiralled out of control. These episodes were further exacerbated by vestiges of her past lurking in the dark chasms of her mind, forever reminding her of the mistreatment she was subjected to as a child.
Throughout her childhood, she had witnessed and been subjected to a great deal of violence. Her father frequently administered horrific beatings to all the members of the family and Vi, as a result of these violent outbursts, became very protective towards her mother and three younger siblings. Her slight frame was misleading: she had the heart of a lion. She would kick, punch, bite and gouge her father in an attempt to protect her family. Unfortunately, on many occasions, this led to further beatings.
At the age of seven she was clad in adult clothing, taking on the responsibilities normally associated with the head of the household. There was very little money but Vi was innovative and ensured there was food on the table. As her father lay slumped in a drunken stupor, she would take money from his pockets and hide it to buy groceries. Her mother fell into deep depression as a result of her experiences and Vi tended to her and the household chores. She would don a stern face in front of the family pretending she wasn’t affected by the domestic situation but, at night, in the sanctity of her bedroom, she would cry herself to sleep clutching a little crocheted doll her beloved grandmother had made for her. She was a tower of strength to her family, but the price, unfortunately, was her childhood.
Despite all her efforts to keep the family together, the domestic situation continued to deteriorate; her mother fell deeper into depression and her father’s alcoholism escalated. The children rarely attended school and neighbours became increasingly concerned about them. Eventually the authorities were informed as to the situation and after a thorough investigation, they were taken into care. Initially they were kept together at a local Salvation Army care home. However, one by one, they were fostered out and new homes found for them. Vi was placed with an elderly couple who were brother and sister. She was heart-broken at being separated from her family. Every night she would stare up at the sky and ask to be re-united with them in a happy, loving home. Everything she had ever loved, it would seem, had been taken away from her.
Gradually, she began to accept her foster home and was thankful for the relative safety it provided. Her foster parents were a good deal older than parents of other children her age and unable to participate in the normal leisure activities associated with family life, so Vi spent a great deal of time interacting with her crocheted doll and imaginary friend - Sally. Tragically though, she became the occasional victim of her step-father’s sexual abuse, something she never dared disclose to anyone for fear of further reprisals and rejection. She banished these experiences to the outermost regions of her mind and pretended that they had never happened. Though out of sight, they remained active deep within the realms of her unconscious, causing problems for many years to come.
At school she was made to feel different from other children. She wore hand-me-down clothes provided by the welfare, small round national health spectacles and was issued with a different colour meal ticket from the other children, advertising the fact that she was in receipt of free meals. She became the target of cruel taunts from her peers and responded in the only way she knew how, aggressively. Circumstance and experience had left her with no self-esteem and a serious inability to form intimate relationships. The next few years saw her very withdrawn and hermitized.
A few days after her eighteenth birthday whilst taking a walk, she noticed an advertisement for a martial arts club. She thought this would be a good way to release her pent up anger and provide a means to defend herself from any further attacks. The following Monday she went along and commenced training. After a couple of weeks she was befriended by a young man named Rob who had also had a disastrous childhood. They quickly formed a bond and a relationship ensued. At first, it was wonderful: they went for meals, to shows, for drinks and to the cinema. A whole new world opened up to Vi. Two years into their relationship however, Rob started to act strange. He started to have severe mood swings: one day he was jovial, the next introverted and irritable. Vi began to suspect he was using drugs. Her suspicions were confirmed when one night she walked in on him and found him injecting heroin. She pleaded with him to get help but within twelve months he was dead from an overdose. During the subsequent mourning period she met current partner, Tom.
The culmination of these tumultuous experiences had led Vi to a place of desolation, a dark abyss and there was seemingly only one way out. She turned from the window, her eyes red and glazed and took several shaky steps over to the dining room table where she sat down. She stared intently into space and contemplated taking a lethal cocktail of alcohol and pain killers which lay on the table before her. Hands trembling, she picked up a note pad and pen and began to write:
My body is tired and weak and my mind a cesspool. I have no fight left in me, it’s time to surrender. Forgive me, but I need to find a place to belong. This world offers me no such place.
She started sobbing uncontrollably and reached out for the painkillers. Vivid images of her family flashed across the screen of her mind plunging her into a mire of guilt. The room began to spin and everything became dark. Malicious voices emerged from the depths of her unconscious, reverberating round her mind ‘USELESS’, ‘COWARD’, ‘WORTHLESS’, ‘SHAME ON YOU’, ‘NOBODY WANTS YOU ANYWAY’, ‘FAILURE’ followed by chants of ‘DIE’, ‘DIE’, ‘DIE’, ‘DIE’. Her body began to convulse with sheer terror. The room began to spin faster and faster, then she slumped over and passed out.
Some time passed before she started to regain consciousness. When she came to, the crescendo of voices had diminished and her mind was strangely tranquil. A peacefulness permeated the room and stillness descended. Vi felt as though something was cradling her, holding her in gentle repose. Then, emerging from the silence of her mind, came a soft whisper:
I hear your cries dear child and respond with love… there’s much you don’t understand at present but I will enlighten you… have trust… your seemingly tempestuous life has been orchestrated for a reason which will become apparent to you shortly…your life is about to take on new meaning, propelling you into a fourth dimension of existence…don’t despair: the best days of your life lie ahead of you… now it is time to awaken and consolidate. You have an important mission.
Vi froze for a moment then asked ‘Who are you?’, her voice breaking up as shudders of sorrow rippled through her body.
I am your Uniqueness, the soft voice replied.
Vi lifted her head to see if she had gulped down any of the vodka. She needed a rational explanation and quick, but the seal was still in tact.
‘I don’t understand. My ‘Uniqueness’?’ she said, in somewhat disbelief.
Yes child. The voice of your truth. A higher aspect of your being, your wisdom.. your eternal essence.
‘What do you want?… my life has been orchestrated for a reason, ah! What rubbish, it’s been a nightmare,’ Vi snapped, as a surge of residual anger leapt up to dominate her response.
I want to enlighten you dear one… assist you on your journey home…grant your wish and take you to that place where you belong…that place you seek so desperately…I want to act as a midwife and birth you into the reality you are destined for. A world of purpose, love, meaning, joy and fulfilment… I want to help you resolve the vestiges of your past and set you free…I want to aid in the transformation of your life and endow you with the tools to reach and heal others …today is the first day of the rest of your life
The gentle whisper began to reach Vi’s innermost centre and she started to mellow.
‘Whoever you are, help me, I am desperate,’ she said pleadingly.
I intend to dear one… rest now… I will visit soon… look out for the signposts.
Vi sat totally dazed. I must be going mad, she thought, but there was something distinctly different about her - she emanated a glow. Slowly, she rose to her feet, picked up the deathly solution and flushed it down the toilet. She then went into the garden and burnt the suicide note. Finally she fell into bed and drifted into a deep sleep.
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