I Will Never Stop Trying

My mother hated my second father when she met him.

Luckily for her, she didn't have to put up with him for long. My second mother joined the family shortly after he did.

Luckily for me, my mother had time to write letters to me explaining how much she loved me and my first father before my second mother took over.

Unluckily for me, I will never get to meet my real parents.

The worst part is that no one knows what’s really going on in my life. They don't see my second mom and dad, they see the originals. Sure they mutter behind closed doors over my second father's strange headgear and odd-colored eyes and wonder why my second mother looks so gray and haggard all the time. But no one knows the real reason they look like they do.

I'm not sure they would believe me if they did.

I was a baby when it happened. My first father was picking my first mother up from the hospital after I was born. My second father and mother were at the same hospital. My second father was very sick.

He was supposed to stay in his hospital bed, but he snuck out to get cigarettes from the convenience store. He didn't really believe the doctors when they told him how sick he was.

In a daze, he stepped out in front of a car on the road in front of the hospital. He died just as my first father was walking past.

That part I got from the newspaper.

What the newspaper doesn't tell you is that my second father's soul forced my first father from his body after the accident and took over.

That part I got from my second parents. It was confirmed by the secret letters my first mother wrote me before my second mother forced her soul out of her body as well.

My first mother’s letters say she knew something was wrong the second he entered her hospital room. The nurses said it was postpartum hormones talking.

My first mother calls me Lilith in her letters. That's the name I was born with. For some reason, my second mother and father can't say it. It gets caught up in their throat like a rock and rolls around their tongue. I found it amusing to watch when I was younger. And no matter how hard they try, my name always comes out as Lily.

I think it’s because Lilith was the first woman. I don’t know why that would matter, but somehow, it does.

Anyway, about my first mother's letters.

They all start the same.

My dearest Lilith,

She even calls me dearest. My second mother and father just call me stupid and rotten. I ruined their lives, they say.

I ruined THEIR lives?

Sorry. Moving on.

I don't know how much longer I can go on living with the creature who took over your father's body. I am trying to find a way to escape but he told me I can't leave.

When I ask him why he mumbles something about his one true love and hobbles off. I don't know what that means, but it always sends a chill down my spine.

I'm so scared, my dearest, and nobody believes me when I tell them what happened. They say the hormones and the stress are causing me to imagine things that aren't there and then they ask me how I'm sleeping.

I'm not sleeping at all, to be honest, but it has nothing to do with you my dearest. You sleep so peacefully through the screaming that I sometimes have to check and make sure you're breathing. It's the screaming that keeps me up and I'm afraid the screaming will be what causes me to eventually break.

The screaming was horrible. I still slept through it most nights, but when I couldn't it was the most horrible noise you could imagine. It started in the evening when my second father retired to his room for the night.

My second mother said it got better when my second father started wearing the net over his head. Like it held in the pain of his soul trying to escape a body it didn't belong in.

I snuck into his bedroom once to see if I could figure out why he screamed like that. The room was dark, but there was just enough light to see him holding his head and thrashing around on the bed like someone in agony.

I never did that again.

I was seven when I confronted them. Right after I found the letters from my mother. I thought I wanted to know.

They told me the truth without hesitation as if they had just been waiting for me to ask so they could unload their dark secret on my tiny and unsuspecting soul.

"Why do you wear that weird thing on your head daddy?"

"To keep my soul from trying to escape this body."

"Is that why you scream at night?"

"Yes."

"Why are you trying to escape, daddy?"

"Because I don't belong here. I stole this body looking for happiness."

He looked at my second mother.

"She was supposed to make me happy."

My second mother glared at him for a moment then turned to me with a smile.

“I suppose you know the truth now, no reason to hide it from you anymore. When he died, he didn’t want to leave me alone, so he kicked your original father out of his body and sent for me. I took over for your poor mother, who was so crazy and heartbroken that she hardly put up a fight!”

She clapped her hands together gleefully.

“And now you are stuck with us, and we are stuck with you. So you might as well learn to deal with it.”

When I was ten, my second mother came into my room while I was reading a book.

"Let me braid your hair, little one."

I hesitated. But the thought of spending a nice moment with her overcame my fear.

"Okay."

I sat in the chair before my vanity and handed her the brush.

"Your hair is so soft, little one."

She brushed it with her hands more than the brush with a sense of longing I wasn't familiar with.

"I remember when my hair was soft like that."

She brushed it gently for a few more moments and then her hand brushed against my face and I heard a 'snip' sound.

"Did you just-"

"Oh, poo. It's just a tiny piece, dear, a memoir of sorts. I do so miss having such soft hair!"

"You stole my hair!" I exclaimed as I pulled at the shorter chunk where she had cut my locks without permission. "You pretended to be nice to me when all you wanted to do was steal my hair! How dare you!"

"If you had hair like mine, you would understand."

"Well maybe if you hadn't stolen my mother from me you'd still have nice hair!"

I pushed her again and again until she crossed the threshold of the door to my room and then slammed it in her face. Then I ran to my closet where I stored the letters from my first mother.

My dearest Lilith.

I fear I will not be able to escape this fate. I so wished to get away, if not for my sake, then for yours. This is my last letter. I am going to hide these somewhere you may find them and then either escape this hell or die. I hope we get away.

If I don't escape, please know I loved you. And I hope She loves you too.

I pounded my desk and sobbed. She doesn't love me! Nobody loves me! And I can't do anything about it.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't live with them any longer, I had to get away. In hindsight, after everything else, the fact that the turning point came when she stole my hair seems silly.

But I was ten.

I was never loved.

And my real parents were basically replaced by zombies.

Would you have done anything different?

I took the headpiece from my father before I left. The screams followed me as I scurried down the street, clutching the headgear in one hand and the letters from my first mother in the other.

The next morning, the police found me and brought me home. They didn't believe me when I told them why I ran away and begged them to not send me back.

I'm still here living with these creatures. They homeschool me now and I'm not allowed to leave the house.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know if they will die.

I don't know if I will escape.

But I will never stop trying.

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