Logan Echolls (logan_echolls) wrote in voicesinmyhead, @ 2007-08-08 08:15:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | depressed |
Current music: | Mad World - Gary Jules |
Entry tags: | logan echolls, prompt #05 |
Prompt #5: What is your greatest fear? [Private]
My greatest fear is turning into my father. Yeah, betcha didn't see that one coming, did you? "Son of psycho killer fears turning into father." Not exactly news at eleven.
But there it is. And it's... sometimes I can feel it happening. I've hurt people before. Not kids or women, not yet. But I've come close, with Lilly and with Veronica. When I get pissed off, it's like I have this need to hit someone or something. I've got enough control that I can redirect it - I can let it out on the wall or a lamp or whatever inanimate object is handy. What if someday I can't do that? It scares the hell out of me.
For that matter, destroying things is not exactly the way to a woman's heart. I can't forget the look on Veronica's face just before her dad pinned me against the wall and threw me out. The fear in her eyes... I don't want someone I love to look at me like that. Not ever.
Therapy's an option, I guess. I've read stuff online that makes me think I might have post-traumatic stress disorder. Wow, that looks pretentious just typing it. Kid who grew up in a mansion having the same disorder as people who have been in wars? If word got out, I'd probably get my ass kicked by some Marines just on principle. And word always gets out.
Therapy. Thing is, if I had to listen to some smug shrink go all Good Will Hunting on me, I think that might just lead to more violence. You can't tell me it's "not my fault." Sometimes, yeah, I know there were times when my dad was just lashing out and I was the handy target. But - dude, you have no idea what a brat I was as a kid. Mother Theresa would've slapped me around. Plenty of times I knew I'd get whipped for something and I did it anyway.
Then I'd get the double whammy. Piss off my dad, then upset my mom when she saw me after. She couldn't understand why I didn't just stay quiet and keep out of his way. I tried, sometimes, not for me or for him, but for her. Then after Lilly died... it didn't matter anymore. A lot of things didn't matter anymore.
Not "died." Murdered. Head bashed in by my father, who then had the balls to try and console me after. For a little while, I thought maybe he really did love me. The one time in my life when he was actually there for me was right after her death. He got bored with my grief pretty quickly, but for a little while I thought he cared.
It was an act, of course. I should've known. I should have seen through it. I've seen through it a hundred times before, but when he turned it on me, I fell for it, just like the rest of them.
I won't be like him. Not ever. Because there's one thing I can do that he would never, ever do. One thing I got from my mom. If I can't fix myself, I can at least make sure I never, ever hurt anyone else.
That's the real reason I've kept the gun.