Virtue: Pathway of Light

By Phoenix Z

Virtue's story: Life is hard. When you have been abused your whole life, it is difficult to see the value in it. I had long given up on myself when Brad entered my life and saved me. Yet, for each positive progression I made, my horrific mom and her boyfriend yanked me down. But, with Brad's help, I could find hope. He taught me value for self and others. He gave me a second chance at life. The Pathway of Light Series follows four youth through the struggles of everyday life. These teens interact with each other in all four stories, but they have a powerful tale of their own. Each teen will come to a crossroads where they have to pick a path. Will they choose the path that will lead to pain, or will they follow the path that leads to growth? The author works in youth and adult corrections and has seen the destruction a seemingly harmless decision can make. Often, a life-altering choice can have massive consequences. As dreams shatter, the offender would give anything to change their past to make a better decision. This unique series allows the reader to watch the devastation that comes when the protagonist picks the path with darkness. The reader will also experience the main character taking a different, more hopeful direction, the pathway of light.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phoenix Z Publishing
• Release date: May 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224476886

Book preview

Chapter 1-Life Has Always Been Hard

T hings are going to change around here, my mom said as I coward between the couch and wall. I was young. You are getting in my way. I don't know what I was thinking, not giving you up for adoption. Because of you, I don't have a life. My mom backed away from me and panted heavily. I could feel her furry for me, and I didn't know what I had done. I would have thought she was drunk, but her behavior seemed more volatile lately. I think she had moved to wicked drugs. Whatever the reasons, I hated how she acted. My mom grabbed her 30oz mug off the couch and chucked it across the room. The brittle plastic splintered and left a dent in the wall, as brown soda splattered on everything around.

Her voice turned shrill. Great, now I am going to have to pay to fix the wall. Do you see what you made me do? These are things I am talking about. You make me a bad person. When I am not stuck around you, I am a ton of fun. Lots of people like me, but you make me mean and angry. I just need a break. I can't do it anymore. My mom came at me like she was going to hit me, but she didn't. She slumped on the floor and screamed and cried and ripped at the carpet. She frightened me so much. I wondered if the neighbors under us could hear her tantrum. They had to be used to them by then.

We lived in low-income housing. I think my mom paid little for it. She didn't work, so we must have been on welfare or disability. I didn't know. We had a few good neighbors, but most of them were creepy. My mom crawled toward me. Her rotten teeth smelt horrible as she talked. How old are you now?

Ten, I said, or at least I thought I was ten.

You are old enough to be on your own more. Things have to change. I am going to go crazy if I keep up this lifestyle anymore. I have to get out. I need other people. Her bloodshot eyes penetrated me. I wanted to gag over her breath. My mom didn't shower much, and she smelt something awful, of course, I didn't often shower either. I wasn't sure what my mom was talking about needing to get out. She was hardly ever home. She took me to school, and then I didn't see her again until nine or ten at night.

You are just going to have to accept it, she said as if I was arguing with her. Her face pressed directly in mine. I tried to scoot against the couch more but was smashed up as close as I could be.

Instantly, my mom's demeanor changed. She jumped up so fast I jerked. She wore a big smile on her face, exposing all the gaps in her mouth. That's it! It's solved. You can watch yourself at night. I will add an extra lock on the door, and you will be okay. We live in a good neighborhood. Nothing bad will happen to you. This is the answer to all my problems. I just need more time away. The real parties don't start until night, and where am I every night? Stuck here with you. My mom laughed hysterically. She snorted and paced madly around the room. She was like a scientist who just discovered a new element.

She plopped next to me and gave me a big sloppy kiss on my forehead. It seemed to burn where her filthy fluids lingered. Thank you, Virtue. You solved my dilemma. You will find I am a much nicer mom when I get this time. Yes, I don't think we will fight anymore. What was she talking about? We never fought, I didn't dare. She screamed and yelled and abused me. I silently endured.

After that day, my world significantly changed. My mom was rarely home. She would crawl in around two or three in the morning, sometimes not returning for days. Since she was always plastered, I pretended to be asleep, so I didn't have to be the focus of whatever mood she was in.

My mom wasn't a big lady before, but she lost weight after resolving to stay out later. She morphed to skin-covered bone. Her eye sockets sunk in, and her brown hair thinned. She resembled nothing of her former self. Her arms had giant scabs up and down them, and so did her face. She seemed old, like a grandma, even though I knew she was young. Life frightened me immensely. I hated being alone at night, struggling to sleep. Many of the neighbors were loud and could be heard through our thin walls. Most nights, I lay awake listening to fights and parties. I wanted someone there to keep me safe.

School meant a lot to me, and yet, I hated it. I could go there and get breakfast and lunch. I never got dinner. Sometimes I had kind teachers who noticed me. Other times I didn't. The horrible thing about school was, the kids knew I was different. I stood apart; therefore, they merciless teased me.

I never knew when a school holiday was. I would walk to school sometimes and find the doors locked. I hated this in the winter because it would be cold, and I would have to walk back home. The summers dragged. I ate lunch at the summer lunch program. My mom tried to remember to have more food in the house during the summer, but it never was enough. My life sucked.

Chapter 2-Alone

1am, and my mom hadn't come home yet. At fourteen, I was still scared to be left alone at night. Many things petrified me, believing our apartment complex was filled with mass murders and rapists, all aware I was alone at night. One of those nights, they were going to get me.

But I had a fear more immense than the murders. I knew one day my mom would not come home ever again. She lived a lifestyle with the potential to kill her. One day she would die, and I would be left alone. Truly alone.

Because of my fears, I hardly slept. My mind congested continuously with anxiety as I played out every worst-case scenario I could imagine. We lived on the third floor of a five-story apartment complex. The stairs outside our door were metal, and the apartment would shake as people went up and down them. Whenever I was asleep, if someone used them, it would wake me up. People used the stairs a lot, so I lost way too much sleep because once they awakened me, it was almost impossible to fall back to sleep. I had my mom's stride on the stairs memorized. I could even tell if she was high or drunk by the way she came up them. I also knew if she was alone or if she brought company. I hated when she brought company.

I love my mom and don't know how to share my story without belittling her name, but then again, why should I protect it? I hate her. Up to that point, she had never done anything for me. She never stuck up for me or put my interests first.

My mom was young. I learned she wasn't even thirty yet. She became pregnant with me at fourteen. I knew fourteen was young and couldn't imagine being a parent at the same age I was. I struggled at caring for myself, so why would anyone want a baby at that age? My mom hadn't wanted me. She made sure I knew that every time she got mad at me, but yet she kept me instead of adopting me to a mommy and daddy who would have cherished me. I despised her for that. She should have adopted me out and gave me a better chance at life.

My life would have been much easier if you would never have been born, she repeatedly told me. I didn't ask to be born. She made that choice, not me.

I should have just aborted you, she would tell me. I will never make that mistake again.

And she never did. I was her only child. In a way, it was good because no one else deserved to have a mother like mine, not even my worst enemy. But, on the other hand, it would have been comforting to have someone to share my childhood with, besides my mom.

My mom partied hard. There were three separate times in my past where she disappeared for over a week. The first time I was thirteen. One day she just didn't come home. I kept expecting she would be there after school, but she never was. I would tell myself it was okay because she would be there when I woke up, but she wasn't.

Several days later, I finally asked a boy in English if he thought I should tell the school my mom was missing. He adamantly said I should keep the secret to myself and to tell no one about it.

If they find out your mom is dead, they will put you in foster care. Foster care is awful. I am in it right now. You get passed from one hateful family to the next. None of them love you. They are just doing it for the money. You are lucky to be alone. You can do whatever you want!

I took his advice and didn't tell anyone my mom was missing. I kept going to school as if she was there. It was more comfortable having her gone. I didn't have to listen to her scream and yell at me for her disappointing life. I didn't have to suffer her abuse; however, she was still my mom, and I longed for her return.

And then one day she finally came home. It had been eight days since I last saw her. As I was getting ready for school, she came walking through the door with my Uncle Ted and Aunt Maggie behind her. I ran to her arms and tried to throw myself in them, but she folded her arms tightly and wouldn't allow me to hug her, using her bony body as a shield to me.

This place looks like a mess, she barked. No hello, no apology for being gone so long, just insults.

I was stunned by her reaction. I had thought she had died. When she first walked in, I filled with joy and relief, but her response to me caused piercing pain, feeling like she was stabbing my heart.

Lay off her, Tina. What do you expect? Aunt Maggie said. I liked Aunt Maggie. She was the only one in my life who was pleasant to me.

Don't you get involved in how I raise my kid, my mom said, turning to Maggie and lashing out at her.

It's clearly time to go, Uncle Ted said to Maggie as he grabbed her hand. He led her out the door when he turned to my mom and said, You're welcome for coming and getting you.

My mom didn't answer him as she stumbled off to her room.

I ran up to Aunt Maggie before she closed the door. Where has she been? I asked.

You didn't know? She has been in the hospital. She OD' on some drugs, and she's been in a coma. She almost died.

I was sick at Aunt Maggie's words. What I heard was my mom almost died! Aunt Maggie hugged me and left. My mom almost died! I sat on the couch in a stupor. The clock on the microwave said 9 am. I was late for school, but I didn't care. I was too upset to go.

The thought of my mom almost dying made me physically ill. I felt as if knives were slashing up my stomach. I thought I might puke. I slumped on the floor next to the toilet, something my mom did all the time, and I bawled. I was just like her, finding comfort in the porcelain. I cried for all the pain and confusion I felt in life.

The second time she was gone, it was for seven days, and I could hardly concentrate. I was sure she had OD again, and this time died. I kept thinking about talking to someone at school to tell them my mom was dead, but I never could get up the courage to do it. Eventually, my mom came home. When I asked her what happened, she said, I hated you, and I just didn't want to come home to you. But don't worry, I love you again.

She knew how to hurt me as no other could.

The third time she disappeared, she was gone for six months. I wasn't alone the whole time. When she had only been gone for two days, my Aunt Maggie came and picked me up.

Sweetie, your mom is going to be gone for a while.

Why, did she die? Is she at the hospital? I asked. My heart raced.

No... Maggie seemed to pause for a long time. She's in jail.

In JAIL! What did she do?

That is your mom's story. I will let her tell you when you go and visit her.

The thought of going into jail freaked me out. Besides, she didn't deserve my visit in jail. I never did go see her. I was starting to hate her. She could rot in jail for all I cared.

I lived with Aunt Maggie and Uncle Ted for those six months. I liked it, and I didn't. It felt nice having food to eat all the time. At my apartment with my mom, I rarely ate. Being with Aunt Maggie and Uncle Ted, I was allowed to eat every meal. That was nice. The hard thing was their expectations of me.

They expected me to study every night. They forced me to shower every morning. They told me what hour I had to go to bed at. I loathed having someone always telling me what and how I should do things. Although I hated how my mom would leave me alone, I liked the freedom of it. After watching myself my whole life, I detested having my Aunt Maggie and my Uncle Ted tell me what to do.

When I lived with them, my Uncle Ted was busy getting ready to open a new trampoline park.

If you want a job, you can have one, he said. I am not hiring fourteen years because the child labor laws are strict with them, but I will make an exception for you.

Where is the trampoline park going to be? I asked. I liked the idea of having a job.

Right here in Whitefish Junction.

I lived in Plentiful twenty minutes away. How will I get to work?

As long as you live here, I'll take you unless you end up going home. If you do, then after school just walk to the train station. It is a mile from your school. My tramp park is only a mile and a half from the Whitefish Junction stop. It will work out well because then you will be getting two and a half miles of walking a day, and we both know you can use it.

I was overweight. I remember crying when I tipped the scale to 200. I was tall for my age, five foot six inches. I always told myself it was because of my height that I weighed so much, but it wasn't. Even though I rarely ate dinner, I got a lot of snacks. Several of my neighbors felt bad for me. One of them worked at a chip factory. Without fail, he always left two bags of chips on my apartment door every night. And every night, I would finish both bags by myself. If I had laid off the chips, I probably would have lost weight. But, when you are starving, chips help decrease hunger.

Don't call her fat. You will give her a complex, my aunt said as she hit him in the arm. He wasn't one to criticize because he had an enormous potbelly. He could lose some weight as well.

I am not going to tiptoe around the idea. She is grossly obese. The walking will do her well, just like the job will, he said as he eyeballed me up and down. It creeped me out, and I had to turn away.

His callused emotions didn't bother me too badly because I was used to it. I was the fat and ugly girl at school. There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't have at least a half of dozen kids remind me of that. I had short, spiky brown hair when the style was long. It was coarse and dull, not soft and silky like all the other girls. I hadn't wanted it to be short. It was an accident.

One day when it had been long, there had been two girls who teased me endlessly about how ratty my hair was. I didn't know how to care for it. I decided to give myself a haircut, then maybe they would like me. I went home and tried to trim off the broken ends. I sucked at it. I couldn't get it even. I had to keep cutting it shorter and shorter, never getting it right. Finally, I had chopped it to my scalp. If I thought I looked ugly before, I was a monster after that. The kids teased me relentlessly. Thankfully, it grew to where I could spike it.

I didn't fit in at school. It seemed every detail about me was opposite to what everyone else was. I was tall, while the girls my age were much shorter. I was fat; everyone was thin. I was an atheist. Everyone was Christian. It was hard to be an atheist in a predominately Christian society. Everyone seemed to think God was real, and if you didn't believe the same way, then you must be friends with the devil. My mom never taught me about God nor the devil. I had learned about God at school. It was hard for me to believe in him because if he was real, then he must have hated me; otherwise, why did he give me the mom he did, and why was I so ugly?

My apartment was in the boundaries of some very rich neighborhoods where clothes and fashion were a massive deal at school. I lacked both. I only had a couple of shirts and pants, which I wore almost daily. My clothes were always dirty because we didn't have a washer and dryer. When they got so bad where I noticed their odor, I washed them with dish soap in the sink. Sometimes, I didn't even have dish soap and would use only water. Then one day, someone left a bag full of clothes at the door. I was pretty sure they must have belonged to some conservative ninety-year-old woman. They were hideous. I refused to wear them at first, but I had no choice as I continued to grow. They were the only things that would fit me. So I was the fat, ugly, too tall girl with chopped hair, an atheist, and I wore grandma clothes.

Because of all the factors in my life, I was deathly shy. It was hard to talk