Confessions from My Conscience

By Blanca J. Frazier

"Confessions from My Conscience" centers on a woman who finds herself in a hospital bed and begins to recall previous moments, seemingly while semi- or unconscious. Founded in part of the idea that the past might exert an influence on a person's present and future, the story combines elements of romance and suspense.It is designed to capture the imagination as it explores the relative nuances of human nature and interaction, while raising implicit questions about issues relating to faith and family bonds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 2, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452054032

Blanca J. Frazier

"When I was fifteen years old I made a promise to myself that by the time I was twenty-five I would have a book written, not necessarily published because all I wanted was a self accomplishment. I completed my goal by the time I was twenty-three and wasn't until recently I decided to take it to the next step. At twenty-nine I am at the peak of my life, recently married my best friend who encourages me to fulfill my dreams. Writing has always been my shoulder to cry on, hand to pull me up and a friend to laugh with and I am honored to have the opportunity to share my passion with you!"

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

Yesterday was our past, today our present, and tomorrow our future. What does that mean? How I see it yesterday was already carved into stone, today still erasable but tomorrow, God help tomorrow for it is only a vision. Our past will never go away; it will haunt us eating away at our vulnerability. You can’t close your eyes and wish it away; the more you try to escape from it the more it follows you. It’s a feeling when someone is watching you as if you were their prey; you turn around to find no one is there, except your past. Every day we create a new past; skeletons are not hiding in the closets anymore but are dancing in the dark streets laughing at our misery. I just turned thirty-two last month; and there is not much I have to show from it. That is, except for my past. I guess I should consider the skeletons that are celebrating from my past. As if they succeeded in watching me suffer and accomplished my life meaning absolutely nothing. I see my past as a roller coaster ride; you feel the adrenalin of something new and exciting, you await anxiously your ride to the top just for a brief glimpse and before you know it right smack at the bottom again.

I’m practically on my deathbed; afraid of what tomorrow may bring that is if there is still a tomorrow. Part of me wishes it doesn’t come; then I can finally make my past disappear, but then another part wants a full recovery so I can beat the non-living daylights out of those damn skeletons I’ll give them something to dance about. Either way, it is a win-win situation on my end. I don’t really know how I got here let alone how long I have been here. I have seen tiny glimpses from a dark tunnel and as I walk through I see all who were dear to my heart and those who made me suffer. I hear my name being called in the opposite directions by a woman’s voice I don’t recognize. Which path should I take or should I just stay in the middle and see what happens? That was always my problem; I never was the adventurous type I waited until something came to me. Probably why I felt alone the majority of my life, well the parts I remember anyway. The last thing I do recall was walking through the garage parking lot next to my car searching my purse for the keys. After that I draw a blank until I woke up in this hospital bed. My family and friends act as if they can’t hear me, holding my hand telling me how much they love me and need for me to wake up. Can’t they see I am awake, can’t they feel my hand squeezing theirs? I hear all this talk about a baby and how much pain it will cause; who’s pregnant, who’s having this baby? It is as if I missed a decade and that I’m different inside. Like the person I once was, I’m not anymore. In a way I feel dirty and no matter how many times I scrub myself clean I can’t wash off that feeling. Did I die and I’m just not aware of it yet? Am I in between life and death some type of sci-fi? I hear the machines so that must be a good sign; all I know it’s an eerie feeling almost like a ghost like sensation.

The last time I remember being in the hospital was when I had surgery on my knee. My kneecap broke causing me not being able to bend my leg when I walked. I was so scared they would have to amputate it; needles and I don’t get along. I hurt it playing softball; since I am still only five foot three and barely a hundred pounds probably playing catcher wasn’t my brightest idea but not only was I good at it, I lived for the thrill. I loved to block the plate and there was this enormous girl about five foot nine and very muscular she was rounding third and I at home plate, the ball just entered my glove when she came at me shoulder first and shot right at my chin, shoving me to the ground a few feet from the fence. I landed on my knees, the lower portion of my leg snapped in one direction while the other snapped in the opposite. I got up and couldn’t feel my leg it hung there like a stringed puppet. I turned to the dugout and saw the girl; she had this smirk on her face that she accomplished something. Her teammates were surrounding her with high fives and I thought to myself

Bitch you are still out! I wanted to attack her, make her feel the same pain I was but it wouldn’t have changed anything. To this day I still don’t know why she aimed for me the way she did, I didn’t think I was that great of a player. When I was rushed to emergency, the doctor took all the x-rays and said the impact of my fall caused the cap to break. I had a torn ligament, fractured my bone and popped a vein. I had to stay off my leg for quite some time; after the surgery he handed me a cane and suggested softball will be out of my league. It seemed harsh, especially for a young athlete, so I attempted to finish the season but it wasn’t the same. The doctor said the kneecap is suppose to fit like a ball inside a glove and mine wouldn’t. Every once in awhile it will start to throb as if someone is pounding it with a hammer, nothing my buddies the 3 J’s can’t help with.

My life has always been worthless; maybe I wasn’t who I always thought I was. If the shoe fits, well then I’m a bitch: not proud but hey at least I’m honest. If I think about it I have had not so many great things and because of my pissy-ass attitude I became Me. Because of my actions I believe that is why my life became so incredibly screwed up, I hurt so many people that it was only fair I receive the same in return. Great guys I let slip out of my hands, friends who I betrayed for the sake of popularity. I could go on and on. There was this one time in grade school I played with someone’s emotions purely to provoke jealousy. Mac was a sweet boy; he wasn’t bad looking but the biggest nerd possible. I mean this guy wore pants tighter than I did; he seemed a little slow but big hearted. He had big brown puppy dog eyes and wore his brown hair slicked back. I guess he figured he looked cool. I was interested in another boy who I thought was everything. He was short fat man but wow, could he blow a trumpet! According to a friend of mine Mac had been in love with me since seventh grade. I on the other hand never knew he existed until eighth. Our big promotional dance was coming up and Mac had asked me to be his date, and Alyssa answered that I would love to. I went along with it to make Robert (the other boy) jealous, then the next day Mac asked me to be his girlfriend. I thought that was going a little far and wanted to stop it there but Alyssa dared me and said Robert was watching.

Back then I wasn’t allowed to have boyfriends so when Mac called my house I had to think of something my parents would believe, that I was helping him in English because he was failing. Mac would follow me everywhere. I would get so annoyed and embarrassed. I would say to go with his friends because I wanted to be with mine. That was when I would remember he hardly had friends. I only let him hold my hand once. It was so unbelievably sweaty it felt like my hand was underneath a running faucet. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for me though, and on the day of the dance Alyssa and I agreed since my parents didn’t know about Mac we would walk together. I bought this brown and beige squared dress but remembered afterwards I was suppose to wear a flower dress to match Alyssa and Marie (who were my best friends). My friends and I were in the courtyard, waiting to take pictures, when we noticed a heart shaped balloon bobbing up and down along the fence. We were making fun of whomever it belonged to, trying to guess who the gal was. I faced the other direction in search of my Robert when Marie tapped my shoulders giggling. As I turned around it was Mac in a gray three piece suit. The balloon had ‘I love you’ all over it and six red roses. I wanted to die from humiliation. Everyone was watching, making remarks and laughing hysterically, or so my mind thought. It was a simple casual dance, not even the teachers were wearing suits. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was being made a fool of, so I pulled Mac to the side where there was no one around. I told him that my being with him was all for a dare but mostly to make Robert jealous. I told him I had no feelings for him what so ever and that I didn’t even consider him a friend. I thought he was annoying and a nerd. I saw the look on his face and that was the first heart I officially had broken. Tears filled his eyes and he ran out of the school. I felt free like a weight was lifted. I let the balloon go and handed out all but one rose then was time to meet up with Robert. Throughout the rest of the dance Mac was nowhere to be found. When the last dance came on I was in Robert’s arms, which was where I wanted to be. Mac approached me with swollen eyes and a running nose asking for a last dance. I ignored him and carried on dancing with Robert. I let him sign my annual that year and he took a whole page declaring his undying love for me. I found great humor in it. I couldn’t resist sharing it with all my girls and all Robert had to say was to have happy and sunny days; I didn’t care though at least Robert signed it. I couldn’t face Mac after what I did to him. He would try to talk to me but I would make excuses to avoid him. I felt guilty for breaking his heart and the love he still carried for me after three years. By my senior year of high school my life was getting flipped upside down. I was finally feeling remorse and asked for forgiveness. I felt I was turning into my mother breaking hearts that should not have been broken, making guys suffer for my pleasure. At prom I was dancing with Anthony when Mac asked if he could finally get his last dance and how could I deny him of that twice? He signed my annual the same way he signed it in the eighth grade, still declaring his love for me. The only difference was I cherished it this time. For once I felt loved and special. Alyssa would constantly tell me I should have given him a chance because I never would know the possibility. Popularity controls you in school, anything can either make or break you and I was actually somebody. I wasn’t going to let Mac ruin that. I actually earned my keep and not because of my brothers were gang members but because of who I was, well who I pretended to be. I still don’t know how I am who I am, I have gone through many personalities, many changes that I lose the sense of who I am. I want to pull the plug from these machines and say the hell with it: I’m better off but that ghost like sensation takes effect and I can’t grab hold. I feel God sent me here to punish me; to see everyone else’s happiness and my own sorrow. I am not a child of His. I’m a stand-in watching life go on by and Him holding me back. I tried being religious and doing the whole Church thing but it didn’t help. Instead it made me realize how much of a sinner I really am. I attempted to get saved once, and the Pastor touches your forehead as they pray for you; you fall to the ground naturally. I needed to make myself fall because I wasn’t going to be the only one left standing. I took a break to find myself and all I found was an empty soul. But no use crying over spilled milk; you can’t change life but life can sure enough change you. The more you hold inside the more it eats away at you until you are nothing. The question I have always wanted answered: if you were already nothing to begin with, how can you let your emotions get to you then? My dad use to tell me

When it rains it pours, but the rainbow is due to come out sometime. For thirty something years that rainbow has not appeared. I’m standing in the street, letting the rain fall down in search of that rainbow: that scrawny, lucky charms mascot can kiss my milky white-ass because there is not pot of gold. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I will die with plastic hoses up my nose. In our mind you see yourself not how others see you but instead as you want to see yourself. I didn’t come from a family with a lot of money, my brothers wore hand me downs and I bare the clothing from Family Bargain Center. We were excited once every three months when we would go to Payless to get the latest trend of ProWings. Money wasn’t an object in our house; we were suppose to be a poor but proud family. Shit, all we were was poor: the proud left the first time my mother did.

Chapter 2

Just hung up the phone with Dad when I felt someone breathing down my back. I thought it was Brian. He raised his hand and covered my mouth, turned so that I can face him. It was him.

I told you I would be back, Mireles whispered in my ear and sent chills down my spine. He grabbed the keys from my hand and threw me in the backseat. He insisted I like things rough, and that his penis was hard. I tried to escape I managed to kick him in the groin then attempted to slide out. Holding me with one hand he unzipped his pants and stuck it out, insisting I suck on it. He shoved it in my mouth moving my head through the motion