Broken (Prologue)

Prologue

Most people would agree that a graveyard is no place for a five year old boy to spend his time playing in, but to the five year old boy, it is nothing short of a normal day. He wakes up, fixes his mother and him some breakfast, brings her food to her in bed along with a soda, the word diabetes means nothing to him, all the little boy knows is what his mother likes to eat and drink for breakfast. He then goes to his room and plays games with his imaginary friend until his mother finally gets out of bed, hours later, and says,

“Jamie, come on, its time to go see Lacey.”

So the little boy and his imaginary friend go to the graveyard with his mother. The little boy cringes in terror as he approaches the busy street. Does his mother grab his hand and tell him there’s nothing to fear? Does she comfort him and safely walk him across the street? No. She walks far behind, telling him to go ahead and cross, never noticing his fear. So the imaginary friend takes the little boys hand and walks him across the busy street.

When they arrive at the graveyard the imaginary friend walks with the boy and they inspect the various statues of angels and crucifixes while his mother kneels by a smaller gravestone in the shape of a heart with the name Lacy engraved in it.

The little boy never knew this girl, she had died years before he was born. His mother tells him that she was his older sister. All the little boy knew was that it made his mother happy for him to kneel down and pray over the grave to his older sister and God. His imaginary friend stood by his side keeping the ghosts and darkness away.

Every weekend the little boy spent with his father who lived at the other end of the state. His father was a smart, quiet man, who loved to read and study things on the computer. The boy was content to look over his fathers shoulder, not knowing or caring what his father was doing, just being with him made the boy happy. The imaginary friend usually stood in the corner watching and saying nothing at times like these because they were precious few moments of happiness for the boy, and who knew how long they were going to last.

Neither parent knew the boy was beginning to break. They didn’t know of his imaginary friend who was more real to the boy than anything or anyone. They didn’t know that the boy couldn’t make friends at daycare. His father didn’t even know the little boy took care of himself and his mother when he was with her. The boy never told him because for all he knew, his life was normal, and seeing people that others couldn’t see was normal too.

The day of breaking was the day when the little boy was awakened by a crash. He saw his mother laying on the floor with a blue tool bag by her head. The boy remembered that it was on the dresser the night before and wondered why it was on the floor. He paused and wondered why his mother was laying on the floor as well, it was a dumb place to take a nap, the bed was only a few feet away from her. The boy tried shaking her, and telling her to wake up, not knowing the adult fact that his mother was diabetic which means she cant have sugar. The twelve cans of regular soda a day didn’t help her condition, nor the fact that she didn’t take her medicine like she was supposed too. The simple fact is, the little boys mother gave up on life. The death of her daughter was too much for her, and seeing her little boy every day reminded her that he was never going to be that little girl.

No. The little boy knew nothing of this. All he could think of was the Disney cartoon Beauty and the Beast, where at the end the Beast was laying on the ground, much like his mother now lay, and by Belle saying “I love you.” and crying, the Beast was fine. So the boy cried, and whispered “I love you mommy.” over and over again. Then the imaginary friend came up behind him and placed a hand on the boys shoulder and said,

“Jamie, quit crying and get dressed. She’s dead, you need to go next door and tell the neighbors to call an ambulance that your mother’s not breathing.”

The little boy looked up at his imaginary friend with wide, tear filled eyes and did what he said. Within a few days, the boy was looking at another gravestone, right beside the one with a heart, with the name Kelly engraved on it.

That little boy was me. That was the day I snapped. My name is James Kristopher, my mother called me Jamie. My imaginary friend? His name is Torri. He never left my side after all these years. I have had new, what I call Head People, over the years. Only I can see and hear them, and when I get upset or stressed they can take over.

This is our story.