Numb - Chapter 2

Welcome to Chapter 2 of Numb. I am going to keep the same title page so that it is easily recognised.

In Chapter 1 we met Ellen, who began to tell of her neglected childhood, and slightly touched on why she became numb to feeling.

I hope you leave a nice comment if you liked the story. If you have any questions I would gladly answer them ASAP.

My husband, Klint is a cheerful man, he does everything: looks after me, provides for me and he did everything he could to make me feel wanted. But that didn't keep me happy. He didn't keep me happy.

I will tell you more about Klint later though, for now I will tell you more about my past experiences and my reasons for being cold, insensitive and meaningless.

As you know, when we are young we are full of innocence, it tingles through the ends of our fingers to the ends of our toes. That was one thing I lacked. Innocence never played a part in my childhood; there was no time for it.

I would just relax on my bed those lonely nights, trying hard not to listen to the horrifying sounds coming from my mothers bedroom, until I felt the coldness seep into my skin. The storm would rage on overhead, I just tried to tap into those sounds to distract me from my mothers sounds. I listened to the rain lashing against the window and feeling sudden chills I would wrap myself in a big jumper.

Staring into the darkness, watching a neighbour walk their dog, or hurrying through the cold rain; that was my past-time as darkness thickened around me. The rain would hypnotise me, and I could stand there for hours, just watching.

The rain was cleansing to me. I was trapped in this world of loneliness and neglect from which I could never escape. The rain was my awakening that there was a world out there. A world where children had loving parents. A world where I could be loved.

But being the 'Plain Jane' that I am, I never thought of running away and frankly I didn't want to. I was comfortable here as much as I was unhappy, I was still protected.

For some reason this day sticks out in my memory as vivid as if I were reliving it. It was the day my usual morning routine disintegrated into nothing. The first time I met him. The one who showed me the ugliness that came with emotion.

I had just walked boldly into the kitchen, my bare feet cold on the hard floor. There he was. The man I hoped would just evaporate from my dreams. But I still see his face, the first time I met him, and the last time I saw him. He was going through the fridge, I was confused as my mother didn't usually allow "them" to stay overnight.

The man slowly turned with a can of juice in his hand. In his underwear. Definitely one of my mothers better looking boyfriends.

"Oh hey kiddo." kiddo? "You must be Ellen, I might be your new dad soon." Why was he speaking to me like I was five years old?

"I wouldn't bet on it." I replied coldly. I stalked past him to raid the fridge myself when I was surprised even further.

My mother had walked into the room. In her underwear. It didn't take a genius to work out what they had been doing last night. I turned and tried to look inconspicuous so my mother would not find a reason to verbally abuse me once more, but she grabbed my arm and began to speak to me.

"Honey." What was with the falsley sick voice? "This is Lloyd." I held out my hand to him, but my mother quickly stopped me with her arm as she carried on speaking. "He has asked me to marry him, and I said yes! I thought it was time you had a real family." She was lying, she couldn't be getting married. She had only known him for, at the most, a few days! She smirked at me and walked back to Lloyd and began to kiss him. Feeling sick I left the house and headed to school without any breakfast.

School wasn't a very happy time for me either. No-one wanted to be friends with me, they all knew I had a slut for a mother. I don't think I minded being 'Plain Jane'; I didn't care what people thought of me and dismissed it as jealousy on their part. As you can probably tell, my mothers engagement did come as a surprise. She had told Lloyd she was pregnant with his baby and he had agreed to marry her and help take care of it. I didn't believe that she was pregnant at first, but I was proved wrong nine months later when I had a new sibling.

I could tell that my mother wasn't really happy that she had another child. Whenever Lloyd was around her (which was most of the time) she would act all happy and coo over the child. But when she was alone, my mother would return to her sullen mood and dump the baby back into its' crib. Which turned out to be in my bedroom. I wasn't kicked out. I just had to share a room with an annoying, screaming baby.

Her name was Nina. She was adorable, but she cried about ten times a night, causing me to be grumpy and miserable at school.

But the years rolled by, and we seemed to be a happy family. I knew we weren't, but my mother was nicer to me these days and was nearly always at home. I could tell things were slowly going wrong, but I couldn't exactly pinpoint which things. Nina became less of an attention seeker, and I faded into the background, hardly daring to speak, becoming even less than 'Plain Jane'.

All too soon however, I found out what was wrong. It happened when I was reading 'Pride and Prejudice' by the light of the moon: I heard my mothers sounds once again. Repulsed from hearing her activities all too often, I screamed inside. I looked back at the book and began to read once more, when a sudden realisation came to me... Lloyd wasn't even home yet. A distinct and different male voice trailed through the wall followed by a low grunt and I knew it wasn't Lloyd.

Slowly and quietly marking my page, I slid my book back under my pillow and crept out of the room. This time I was intent on figuring out who my mother was spending her time with these days when Lloyd wasn't here.

I pressed my eye to the keyhole. The only way I could see what was happening inside without opening the door.

It definitely wasn't Lloyd. My mother was cuddling up to some strange man. I knew she hadn't changed, but I at least thought she would refrain from bringing a different man home every night now that she was married.

As the strange dark haired man pounced onto her. I heard the front door opening and closing. Lloyd was home! Should I yell out? Warn my mother?

I decided against it and pulled my eye away from the door and quickly snuck back into my bedroom. I waited there, listening. Frightened.

I imagined the scene as I heard the giggling form of my mother stop and gasp, and Lloyds' low snarl of anger."Lorraine?" It was difficult to work out Lloyds' tone. It was full of hurt and surprise. But I could also hear anger, a deep, tremulous and frightening fury.

"How dare you!" I heard my mother scream. "I told you I didn't want to! Lloyd, thank God you're home. This man forced me..." I knew my mother was trying to regain her manipulative stance over Lloyd. But even he wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for this! "Please Lloyd, you have to believe me." I listened and listened, no-one said anything for a while.

And suddenly I heard Lloyd, it wasn't like I expected. His voice was quiet and cold.

"No Lorraine! I know what you have done. I've known for a while, I just didn't want to admit it. I loved you..." his voice faded away as I heard a stifled sob. I felt closer to him in that moment than I ever had before. The tears splashed down my face as I felt them splash down his.

"Well it's hardly my fault you don't satisfy me!" my mother spat.

"Lorraine, you know this is all your fault. I can't deny that I am disappointed. I'm leaving now, I don't mean anything to you. I see that now. Goodbye Lorraine."

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE!" My mother screamed. "YOU HAVE RESPONSIBILITIES!"

"No Lorraine. You do. Goodbye." I heard Lloyds' heavy footfalls tread past my bedroom door, down the stairs and finally the slamming of the front door.

I collapsed against the door, sobbing. My mother was a cruel heartless woman. I don't know exactly why I was crying. I think it was because I knew my mother would start verbally abusing me again. But it could have also been that I felt close to Lloyd in those final moments before he left.

I finally fell onto the floor, exhausted and still crying. I didn't think it was over yet though. I expected some sort of fight for Nina. What I wasn't expecting was what happened next.

I don't know exactly what time it was, but after the fight I went straight to bed, figuring it would be best to stay out of the way. I remember what I was dreaming about though. I had a dream that I was Liz from 'Pride and Prejudice' and that I didn't notice love until it was staring me in the face.

Some bangs from downstairs disturbed my dreams. My eyes fluttered open immediately and I stumbled out of bed. I was just checking on Nina, who was sleeping soundly in her soft, cushiony crib, when I heard slow footsteps creaking up the stairs. Suddenly I didn't feel safe. What if it was a burglar?

I hid under the bed as someone strode into the small bedroom, all I could see were the bottoms of the persons legs, but my eyes weren't focused on those.

I was staring at the gun held in his hand. I felt his eyes wander over to my empty bed before he turned to Nina's crib.

Another loud bang echoed through the room and I fought the urge to scream out loud.

I stayed hidden under the bed, breathing in the dust, until his footsteps died away and I could feel that he had left the house.

Then slowly and silently I crawled out from under the dust covered, claustrophobic space and went to check on Nina. I was already certain of her fate, but I had to check.

Tears ran down my face as I let out a cry of grief. My little sister lay motionless in her crib and I had come almost as close to being killed myself.

I stood there just staring at her. A few moments ago she had been breathing, but here she was. Dead. I wanted to hold her, snuggle into her, inhale her scent. I clawed at the air as I struggled with my grief, trying to reach out for the child. But she was gone, I couldn't hold her or comfort her. She was gone.

I stumbled down the stairs, clutching the banister for support. The grief had filled me like I had never felt it before, grief for a child that I didn't even know I loved.

Fear threatened to be the death of me as I stepped into the cold living room. I could smell the death, feel the emptiness. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I was empty.

My mother lay sprawled across the couch, I let out a sob. I felt guilt, I had hated her... I had never had the chance to forgive her... I had never given her the chance to make it up to me. I thought things would have got better if we got older. My hands were shaking, and I clutched them together and held them at my chest.

At my feet was my mothers new man.

My knees buckled and I crawled into the kitchen, where I leant against the counters and sobbed. I didn't want to be me anymore. I didn't want to be 'Plain Jane'.




I became cold after that day. Numb. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to love somebody so much that I might kill them for betraying me. I didn't think I could live with that fear. But all that changed when I met Klint. I felt safe with him. I feel safe with him. But that doesn't stop me from being unhappy. Unsatisfied.

Welcome

Hello. You have reached the blog of Sam Cains.
I have decided to post my new story 'Numb' here as The Sims Resource is unwilling to have it (in it's current state) on their site. The second chapter is "unsuitable for PG13" So there you have it, I will be posting all new stories here as well as on TSR (although that depends on whether TSR allows my stories to be published). Well that is all I have to say at the moment, so thanks for listening and enjoy my stories!

Numb - Chapter 1

Now everyone knows that keeping a relationship going is hard, we were never told it would be easy. Compromising who we are to please our partner. It was hardly written in the contract was it? No. A relationship is more like the tedious small-print that seems to appear everywhere these days, an inconvenient and often-times horrible experience. Being tied down by a partner you appear to love, compromising yourself, trying to keep the other happy... but I wasn't happy. It didn't keep me happy.

You see, my partner. He is sweet. Yes. Don't get me wrong I love him to pieces, or at least I think I do... he is my life, everything that I have ever known I owe to him. Klint. He keeps me sane in this world, but he doesn't keep me happy.

I haven't been in too many relationships, I was never the girl the guys fawned over as though possessed, I was a shy, bookish girl. I think that was when it began, my inability to show or feel happiness. Yes, that was when it started. Back when I was a little girl.

Sometimes it would happen when I was sitting on the floor, playing with the precious little amount of toys that I had. The heavy shortfalls of breath and the sound of ominous footsteps would echo behind me, it didn't take a genius to work out who it was. Though, sometimes I wished that it would be someone different.

This is my mother. She would approach me with a glint in her eye and a malicious, frightening smile that still haunts me to this day. Her name is Lorraine. I don't know what has happened to her now, I refused to keep in touch. Every night when I was little, she would force on some horrible red earrings and shoes and leave the house. I wouldn't know what time she got back, I was always asleep.

And that night was no exception. "My dear Ellen." For that was and is my name. "You will be good for me tonight won't you? You know I have to work..." She would explain it to me with a sickly, patronising voice, but after that she would straighten up, clear her throat, and continue in her more brisk-like business tone. "I don't know what time I will be home. You know where the fridge is, grab a bite to eat and I will see you in the morning. I want you in bed by the time I get home." I never dared to disobey her, and I never stayed up to wait for her return. I was scared of her and I appreciated all the time that I had away from her.

I would sit on my bed most evenings. Yes I cried, but not because I missed my mother... but because I was frightened, the usual fears of a child: Darkness, intrusion, monsters. The list goes on, but I feared these the most. I was frightened of intrusion the most and monsters the least; a human is much more scary than a flesh-eating monster... emotions can make people do things out of the ordinary. I had seen. I knew what love could do. And that was why I became Numb.

It wasn't until I was a little bit older that I began to contemplate the meaning of my loneliness and I blame it all on my mother now. I began to understand my mother, I was growing up, experiencing changes. I knew what she did when she went out every night, I wasn't afraid to stay up anymore. But I was horrified by the sounds that echoed through the thin walls as she "entertained" her many visitors.

But still. Every night she would leave and every night I would lounge around watching TV. Relishing in my mother-free moments. I would dread her return home, and often dreamed of running away. But something made me stay in that house, perhaps it was my inability to make friends... I certainly didn't have any. Or perhaps the lack of funds, I certainly didn't have any money either. Anyway it doesn't matter what it was; I refrained from running away.

I would sit on that mouldy couch oftentimes staring blankly at the TV as it blurted out meaningless statements and "news." Well it wasn't news to me, I wasn't the slightest bit interested. Our family barely got by paying the electric bill, I wasn't interested in news unless it meant that my mother was going to get a payrise. My mind would stray and my eyes would focus on the safe in the corner of the living room. I had always wondered what was in there, did mother have a secret stash of money hidden away? Or just a bunch of secrets?

I didn't find out right then, I would make myself something to eat and sit in silence listening to my spoon clattering around the bottom of the bowl as I ate. I would sit in the dining room until dusk fell and then I would carter back up to my bedroom and out of the way, waiting for my mothers imminent arrival.

Still, I was used to it. I had put up with it my whole life, I wasn't going to start caring now. A few weeks later and I was just rummaging through the fridge as usual, looking for something that would satisfy my hunger. You would have thought wouldn't you, that after all my time looking after myself I would have learned how to cook? Well, I can't. Probably the only thing that I haven't been able to teach myself.

So as per usual, it was just a bag of cookies for me. Every time I so much as looked at a bag of cookies, I would remember those cold, lonely nights I spent as a child. Toddling around at four years old, rummaging for a bite to eat. Sometimes I didn't eat anything and would have to feel the anger of my mother when she got home with another of her many boyfriends.

As usual I was sat in front of the Tv watching some old lady talking about knitting patterns. There was nothing else on and it wasn't like I was actually watching the programme, I enjoy sitting in the dark now, staring as the shadows dance across the walls. My mother wouldn't be home for a while yet. Dusk had been and gone, but still I was sitting there. I wasn't worried, my mother usually walked in at about one in the morning.

So it came as a surprise then, when my mother suddenly wrenched open the door against the fierce wind. I felt a shiver run up my spine as she entered and the wind managed to whip my face before she forced the door back into its frame.

She was leaving the room and was acting as if she hadn't seen me. So feeling a sudden daring I called out to her."What are you doing home so early? I was planning to be in bed by the time you got home." She didn't say anything right away, but revolved slowly on the spot to face me.

"I was fired!" She blurted out, her face was blank, but I heard in her voice that she was angry and upset. "You should be in bed! I have told you I don't want to see your annoying, bratty little face when I come home! You're an ungrateful insolent child and you should keep your extraordinarily large nose out of my business and get to your bed when you are told!" She teetered slightly and I could tell she had been drinking.

I would have retorted with a truly hurtful comment, but I was suddenly fearful, my mother was welling up with emotion and I didn't want to give her an excuse to take it out on me. I wasn't bothered too much by her insults; I had heard them all before. Useless, worthless, irritating... you know, the usual. I also would have loved to watch her break down, it would have made me feel powerful. But I also knew that if I watched it, it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

So I ran up to my room, and clambered onto my bed, where I stayed a while, just listening to the sounds downstairs: the clinking of bottles, the quiet, muffled sobs, the slow switching off of the lights and my mothers footsteps on the stairs. She stumbled into her room that night, and it was then that I began to feel it, the numbness that managed to flow freely around my body. Emotion was an ugly thing, and I never wanted to show any sign of it.

I don't feel numb anymore though, and I realise that I am not happy. I'm not happy at all, not the remotest bit. I try for my marriage's sake, but it seems to slip through my fingers, just as water manages to escape from a cupped hand. Yes Klint is my husband, my rock. But I am not happy.