Once We Leave the Garden:
Inside the Minds of the Banished
Written by
Joretha Isby
Published by Joretha Isby
Copyright 2015 Joretha Isby
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Prologue
Alexandria and Derek Svelti are a young, loving, and devoted couple. To the world, they are everyday people. They live as you and I live. They enjoy going out to dinner with friends, participating in community activities, and saving up for that dream retirement trip around the world. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone with something bad to say about the Sveltis. But Alexandria and Derek are not what they appear. They are well aware, that as long as you show the world what they want to see, they shall not judge you.
This book is a glimpse into the early years of Alexandria and Derek Svelti. This book is a glimpse Inside the Minds of the Banished.
CHAPTER 1: DEREK
My memories. My memories are full and very vivid. I remember all the people. I remember all the questions. I remember the smile on my father’s face as he bragged and showcased me to everyone in town. I remember the hope that I always saw in my mother’s eyes, whenever she looked at me. Even at the tender age of three, I remember that particular look in her eyes. Although I wouldn’t learn what the look meant for many years. The look of hope. The look of having a chance for change. The look of a chance at being rescued.
A child prodigy. That’s what I was deemed when I was just three years old. My mind was like a sponge. I did not find joy in toys or cartoons, like a normal child. Technically, I didn’t find joy in learning either. It was just the way my mind worked. It needed to understand. I needed to be able to comprehend everything around me. Understanding has always had a calming effect on me.
I can’t say if my childhood was like or unlike any other child’s. I would assume, for the most part, that it was uncommon. After passing the Stanford-Binet intelligence test, at the age of three, I spent most of my free time learning. That’s what I was most comfortable doing.
In the beginning, my mother would take me to the library once a week, to check out library books. It was very pleasant for me, but the one thing I couldn’t tolerate were books with torn or bent pages. The trips to the library only lasted for a few weeks. Not having a book when I wanted to reread it or reference it became very aggravating to me. I had to throw tantrums, so my mother and father could truly understand the frustration I felt. So eventually, it was bookstores only. Which was great. Fresh, new, crisp-paged books.
I spent most of my time in my room. My father swooned over me in public, but didn’t show much interest inside the home. I always assumed it was because, after a while, we just couldn’t relate. My father, an immigrant from the Dominican Republic, although fluent in Spanish and English, had never completed high school. My mother, on the other hand, was a college graduate. She taught 4th grade, until she gave birth to me. Although teachers make more than the average mechanic, me father still demanded that my mother stay home and “nurture” the child. They both often stated that her educational influence was probably a contributor to my vast knowledge. I don’t think either one of them realized what an ignorant comment it was. But it wasn’t my place to state that. Especially within earshot of my father, who wouldn’t hesitate to display his anger with a physical reaction.
Staying to myself was always in my best interest. I sat in my bedroom, my mother was in her bedroom, whenever she wasn’t toiling around the house, cooking and cleaning, and my father…my father controlled the living room, whenever he was home. He wouldn’t hesitate to change the television as soon as he walked into the house. It didn’t matter if there were only ten minutes left on the show she was watching. “You have all damn day to watch tv.” I remember the first time my mother tried to stand her ground with him. I think that was the first, and last, time I ever heard my mother even raise her voice. Before then, I don’t think I had ever heard my father raise his voice either. I guess he never really had to. Whatever he said, was the law of the house.
It was never an issue for me, because my needs were unique to me and I quickly developed ways to get exactly what I needed or wanted. I never needed to debate with either of my parents because I demanded educational items and as the foreseen ‘Saving Grace’ of my family, they were always proud to provide.
Because of my advanced knowledge, but young age, I never had friends in elementary school, and going into middle school was no different. Freshman are as immature as 4th graders. And even at the age of 8, with an IQ of 164, I couldn’t relate.
Most children go to school because they have to. They are required to learn, but they honestly don’t want to. They would rather run around like uncontrolled mammals. Making fun of each other, eating junk food and diddling their privates. So I always went directly from home to school and back home. I had no desire for a social life if it meant having to hang out with morons. I couldn’t wait to get home, to my sanctuary. Until that day.
The day that everything change. The blood. The blood and her eyes. My mother’s eyes. They didn’t even have time to close. But I could tell she had been crying, for under her eyes were dried salt from her un-wiped tears. I could only stare at their lifeless bodies. For the first time in my life, I felt confused. Not by the situation. That I clearly understood. My father shot my mother through the chest and then turned the barrel on himself. That I completely understood. My father had been accusing my mother of having affairs for a while. He told her if he ever caught her cheating, he would kill her. He would kill us all. I assumed that the rage he felt didn’t allow him the control to wait until I got out of school that day. What I didn’t understand was how I was suppose to feel about the situation. They were gone. I knew I should feel something, but all I wanted to do was take a nap, like I normally do after school. Get a snack and take a nap. I knew once I called the police, people would be all over the house. I wasn’t ready for that. I knew once I dialed those three numbers, the change of my life would be set into motion. So I made a conscious decision. I’ll take my nap now and enjoy the last few hours of normality. And upon my awakening, I would set the wheels into motion.
CHAPTER 2: ALEXANDRIA
My childhood was perfect. It was so perfect, that it makes me angry when I think back on it. I mean, I feel a sense of joy, when it first enters my mind. But anger and disappointment are always fresh on it’s heels.
My father was my everything. He treated me and my older sister, Talicia, like princesses. It was like his life revolved around making us happy and keeping us safe. Trips to Disneyland, road trips to Myrtle Beach, SC every summer, gymnastic lessons. Whatever put a smile on our face. And he always smiled. Our happiness brought him happiness.
My mother? I don’t remember much about her, at least not in my childhood. She was there in body, but I guess not in spirit. She wasn’t there enough to leave an impression. All I really remember was her annoying habit of judging. I think that’s all she ever really did. I remembered my father repeatedly telling her that she should stop spending all her time at church and spend more time with us. It’s like she was obsessed. She was the type that spent all her free time at the church. Which didn’t really bother me any, because when she was there, she wasn’t judging me. But as we got a little older, my father demanded that she ta
ke more interest in us.
In junior high, my dad encouraged me to try out for the cheerleading squad. He kept saying that me making the team would justify all the money he had spent over the years, on gymnastic classes. Although I wasn’t really interested in trying out, if it would make my father proud, that was reason enough. Plus my best friend, Jennifer, would be trying out also, so I wasn’t going to have to do it alone.
For me, making the team was effortless. My flipping abilities alone got me picked. My father had told me that when they called my name, to do a set of backflips and when I did everyone’s mouths just hit the floor. I knew at that moment that my spot was guaranteed. Jennifer wasn’t so lucky. Although she was gorgeous and loved hip hop and R&B, Jennifer had absolutely no rhythm. One of the things that I loved about Jennifer, was that she didn’t care. She just loved to move, regardless of how it looked. And she gave me some of the best laughs, and she didn’t even care.
Everything was great until my parent’s marriage began to fall apart. There were a lot of mornings when my father wasn’t home when I got ready for school. My mother would say that he had left early for work. I eventually decided to stay up one night and found that he was leaving in the middle of the night. This went on for a few months. Sometimes there were actually nights when he didn’t come home at all. When I’d ask my mother, she would just answer my question with another question. And when I’d ask my father, the weak smile he’d give me, with his fabricated excuse was heartbreaking. I don’t know if he was a reflection of what I was feeling or vice versa, but the happiness was no longer there.
One day he just told us he was moving out. He said a lot of stuff, most of which I can’t fully recall. What I really remember, so vividly, was the heavy feeling in my chest. It was like I couldn’t breathe in deep enough. My father was just talking, saying meaningful words, I assume. But I just blurted out, “Take me with you!” And I will never, ever forget the look on his face. The look of a parent who knows they are about to break their child’s heart. I knew the answer when I saw it. He was going to leave me there…with her. He gave me the excuse that I was at a stage in my life where I needed to be with my mother. I don’t even know what he meant by that. I had already started my period, so he wasn’t going to have to teach me about that. And I hope he didn’t think that she was going to have a positive reflection on my interaction with boys. She most definitely wanted me to wait until marriage, before I engaged in any sexual activities. But how in the hell was that going to happen, if I didn’t even believe in marriage. Especially after seeing that it can quickly come to a devastating end. I couldn’t really understand the point. It didn’t really matter at the time, anyways. The life I knew was over. And the way I once felt about my father was forever changed.
CHAPTER 3: DEREK
Through all the commotion, one thing became clear to me. I was not like these people. Because of my age, everyone was speaking to me like I was a child. And the crazy thing was, everyone in town knew me. They knew how intelligent I was. But under the circumstances, they still preferred to treat me like a child.
And everyone kept telling me “It’s ok to cry.” I knew it was “ok” to cry. I just didn’t feel the need. Crying wasn’t going to change anything. And I wasn’t in any pain. I missed my mother’s face and her smell. But she was free now. I wasn’t able to rescue her in time, but at least she was free. And my father? Well, he wanted to die. That’s why he shot himself. He made his decision. It effected my life, but not enough to make me want to cry.
After my parent’s death, many of the local residents were willing to open their homes to me, but because my mother had a sister, I had to go live with her and her husband. I didn’t know my aunt very well. Her and my mother didn’t speak often. I always assumed it was because my father didn’t like her. It wasn’t long before I found out that my father didn’t like Chuck, my aunt’s husband. Chuck told me my father was a racist, which my aunt confirmed with letters from my mother. My father had the phone bill set up to show all the calls that came in and out of the home. Once he found out my aunt was dating a black man, he no longer allowed my mother to talk to her. My mother could only write my aunt letters and my aunt was unable to write her back.
Finding out my father was a racist was a bit of a surprise, because I never recalled hearing him say any racial terms. I was well aware of his favoritism toward white people, because he had told me on numerous occasions that the fact that I looked like a white boy was going to be a huge advantage in my future. But that never made me think he was a racist.
Uncle Chuck was a great guy. He loved movies. All kinds of movies. I never cared for television or movies beforehand, but Chuck made them more interesting because he liked to talk about the movies afterward and dissect the plots. Which made me look at them in a totally different perspective. I also found that I truly enjoyed horror movies. I would often find myself imagining what it would be like to kill something or someone. To watch the light extinguished from their eyes.When I looked into my mother’s eye, I could tell she was no longer there. I often wondered what it would have been like to watch her leave. I doubt watching her go would be like watching anyone else. When I would imagine taking someone else’s life, I would get a tingling sensation all through my body. Sometimes I would pleasure myself to the thoughts, but most of the time, I would just fantasize for as long as I could. But it wasn’t just the thoughts that I enjoyed. It was the feelings I felt. I felt excited. I felt aroused. I felt curious…I felt happy. I truly felt happy about the anticipation of something. I could only imagine how happy I would feel, if I actually did it. If I actually took a life.
CHAPTER 4: ALEXANDRIA
After my father left, I didn’t see him for a whole month. He called about once a week, but he always gave us excuses as to why he couldn’t come and get me and Talicia. He only came after it got back to me, at school, that he was living with the mother of a fellow classmate of mine. When I asked her, she confirmed. I was so distraught, I had to call my mother to come pick me up from school, because I honestly felt like I was going to exploded. It took all my strength not to burst into tears.
He was spending time with her and her mother. He was probably over there being a daddy to her and ignoring us. My mother called him once we got home. I couldn’t even look at him without crying.
Of course, they gave us the speech that marriages sometimes fail because people grow apart. But I let them know, I knew the real reason. Everybody at my school now knew the real reason. He had been cheating on my mother for months. All the times that he wasn’t home in the middle of the night, he was with his new family. And I will never forget the look on their faces. My father looked dumbfounded and shamed, but my mother…she looked angry. I was never sure if she was angry with my father for doing this to us or if she was angry at me for finding out the truth. Whatever the reason for the anger was her problem, not mine. I had many questions for my father and he answered none of them truthfully that day. The man who was once my everything was now lying directly to my face. The love for my father began to die that day. And from his actions, the love he once felt for me had long subsided.
I missed him so badly. The man I once knew, never returned to me. The distance between us became vast and empty.
The relationship with my mother was fine, for a while. She seemed to show a little more interest in me and Talicia, but she seemed to really only be doing it to try to convince us to become members of her church. Every conversation we had would somehow end with her relating it to her church. I always felt like she wasn’t really mothering, as much as she was campaigning...for the church.
My family had turned to shit. A lot of times, when I would look at my mother, watching her lips move, spewing her knowledge about the bible and God, I would just laugh to myself. ‘Wait until marriage’, she would preach. For what? A man can leave you regardless of whether he marries you or not
. God does not guarantee your marriage any sanctuary. You are as doomed as the rest. That’s not to say I didn’t believe in God or had anything against him. It was my mother that I had an issue with. She says God judges, but often she appeared to be the one doing the judging. It’s like she had forgotten her place.
CHAPTER 5: DEREK
It took a while, but Chuck was eventually able to convince my aunt to let me get a pellet gun. I’d often pretend, for Chuck’s amusement, that I couldn’t get the aim correct. That way, I could convince them to let me go out to the woods by myself sometimes and practice. The gun wasn’t powerful enough to kill anything worth killing, but it could stun some animals long enough to allow me to get close enough to them to slit their throats. Birds and squirrels mainly. You’d have to hit them just right it seemed. If you didn’t hit them just right, they would scamper off. It got to the point that I realized, I needed something that would take them out on the first try.
I decided to skip school one day. After my aunt and Chuck left for work, I took Chuck’s beretta from the nightstand, where he kept it hidden. I lured a stray dog out into the woods and I shot it. It didn’t feel the same. It felt…impersonal. It was the bullet that took its life. I just shot it. It didn’t give me the same satisfaction. Plus it was to loud. I knew being out in an open forest made it harder for someone to pinpoint where a gunshot was coming from, but it was still added attention I didn’t need.