Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ I, am... ❯ Cody Amber Havoc ( Chapter 1 )

I, am...

Chapter 1: Cody Amber Havoc

 

To comprehend to what extent I've ruined myself, is nearly impossible...I mean, I don't even know how I'm going to get myself out of this one.

Flash.

I'm fucked up on cocaine, in between the shooting daggers of the person I love and the person I thought I loved. Can you say, royally fucked? This is what happens when you live to please everyone but yourself, something that never really works to your advantage as much as you'd hope. It's pathetic really how I can let myself be damaged over and over again and not learn from the first time.

Flash.

Actually, let me rewind to my childhood, so that I can understand why I am the way I am...then you can decide whether I'm sane or not. Did I say childhood? Allow me to correct myself. I really meant nightmare.

 

My life ended the day I was born, labeled as a crack baby. In the womb my favorite foods were crack, cocaine, heroine, nicotine, caffeine and maybe some chocolate every now and every then. Mainly cocaine, I mean that was my most desired. That was also the reason I was born 3 months early, weighing but a mere four pounds. Do you believe that this four pound baby would later turn to be two hundred pounds? Oh yea, that's not the worst of it.

Anyways, let's seriously get down to the real problem here.

At age two, my mother was about to give birth to a second baby but this time he was not to be fed the same bullshit I was fed...I mean Ryan Jacob was lucky, he didn't have to go through the same bullshit I did.

 

Nevertheless, I didn't have it all that bad.

 

My mom and dad were the typical drug addicts where one day you'd be their most cherished accomplishment, and the next you were their mistake; their punching, slapping, and kicking object of choice. One day they were in love and the next they hated each other; killing each other and then taking their anger out on the crack baby. This all began to get even worse by the age of three, where Ryan had become my responsibility as my parents chose to world war one another while he and I played audience.

In September of that year I'd been enrolled in school, turns out the crack baby ended up being one of the most gifted children of the class. I still remember my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Nester, inviting my mom inside the class to show her that I had already learned how to write on my own.

“Mrs. Havoc”, she addressed my mom, “Do you know how it is she learned how to write? Have you been teaching her?”

My mom shrugged and looked around awkwardly,

“She watches much t.v., educational shows and such and she loves watching documentaries. Her father also brings home two sets of newspapers. One for him to read, and the other for her to follow...so maybe that's what got her spelling and writing”

Mrs. Nester smiled at me as I looked in our fish tank...there were four fish. The smaller fish were floating inside the mini fish-castle and the bigger fish were chasing one another; the red one hit the blue one and it fell to the bottom of the fish tank. I remember laughing my little self to tears and my mother asking,

“What's so funny Cody?” I pointed to the fish tank and said,

“The silly red fish just made the blue daddy-fish go to hell...”

At that sentence my mother and my teacher looked at each other and mouthed something I couldn't understand.

A week later, Child Services was knocking at our door.

 

Their fights over drugs decreased and instead my mother decided to fight for us; our safety, our health and our overall well-being. A new state of mind she'd come across the day child services inspected the house and threatened to take away her babies.

This fight, she won the day my father threw a boiling cup of coffee on her and she decided to give him her final blow to the face. She'd hit him back and shown him she'd rather have her kids then him or his drugs. That day my father walked out the door and never looked back. That was the day I began to cry; crying had become a part of my daily routine and of my entire being.

This was our happy Easter, the thirteenth of April, 1994.

Flash.