D. Colt S. Griffin

Whats you're deepest fear when you were a kid? Some may say being alone, or dying, maybe even heights. Or you have some that say finding body parts in the freezer.

I only had two. One, getting beaten to death by my aunt, and, Two, getting starved to death to death by my aunt.

What was the most upsetting thing you experienced as a kid? That my parents didn't save me.

Do you have any regrets? Yeah, not being strong enough to protect myself.

Have you changed at all? One hundred percent, mess with me, I'll end your life.

I'll tell you my story, to whoever cares enough to hear about it.

Griffins, the name. Is there a story behind it? No, it just had a nice ring to it, I guess.

My life growing up wasn't your average child's childhood. I didn't get the happiness I wanted, or the love of the one's I trusted. I didn't get to behave like a kid, more like a doll, waiting to be used. Couldn't be loud, couldn't cry out, couldn't play about, couldn't be happy with normalcy.

Beaten and thrown against walls by my aunt, being touched by a man, my cousin, who wasn't my mate, suffering terribly, while my abusive and alcoholic father and my mother just watched me suffer. But I pretended. Pretended to be the sweet and naive child they thought of me as.

With every hit, with every hateful word spouted at me, with every wall I was thrown into, with all the hidden touches on me, I grew stronger. I survived. Cursing my supposed savior, my mate, vowing to never love or trust that they would save me.

I became my savior.

When I turned 16, my life had a huge change. A month after I turned 16...

At the dinner table. "Honey, the mate meeting ceremony for the youngsters is tomorrow." My mother suddenly said, looking at my father. "Is that so?" Was all he said, returning the dead silent setting to the dining table.

"Well, all of the other kid's moms we're saying how they were dropping their kids off together, so I was hoping you could take some time out on Griffin's important day tomorrow.

I glared at my food, as I tried holding my anger in. I don't care if he doesn't go, in fact, I'll be grateful, all I need is moms care. I don't even want a mate, why must mother bring up this subject?!

"The boys and I are having poker tomorrow night, he should be grateful to even have a roof over his head, why must I work my .ss off, just for him to go to a meetup?!"

Fathers fists clashed against the wooden table, shaking the fragile plates roughly. Here we go again. It always starts like this, but it always ends with my mom admitting she was wrong when she wasn't.

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