go-between for them.”
“Why would that be? What could they want form you?”
As it turned out, they wanted something big.
They wanted my life.
64
“What do you mean, ‘custody’?” I screamed into the phone at my lawyer. “How the fuck can they want custody? I haven’t seen them in almost fifteen years!”
“My best guess, from what you’ve told me about them,” she replied calmly, “Is that it really has nothing to do with Crispin. I’m sure they only want custody of him so that you will then be forced to pay them an outrageous amount in child support. More than they’ve ever had in their lives.”
“Well, that’s fucking nuts. It’s not going to happen.”
“Of course it isn’t,” she said. “All this other nonsense about the laws forbidding two different breeds of Mues to…well, to breed , is just so much smoke and mirrors. It’s definitely the money they’re after.”
As is my custom when I’m upset, I yelled the word “Fuck.” I yelled it approximately 70 times throughout the whole of that day. It didn’t matter how many times I was told to stop. I didn’t care who heard it. I didn’t care that it made my son flinch. After about the fiftieth time, he stopped flinching anyway.
Those rotten, no-good, cock-sucking mother fuckers!
How dare they? It wasn’t enough that they had tortured me all through my growing up years? They had to torture me some more? Of course they did. People like that don’t know what to do unless they’re torturing someone. If it wasn’t for that little amusement, they would just shrivel up and blow away in the slightest breeze. They thrived on making other people miserable. It was their sole purpose in life.
But I had beaten them before just by living the life I led. By being happy. They say that’s the best revenge against abuse: to live a happy life. After all, that is the last thing abusers want. Their business is to break you, to make you more miserable than they themselves are. It is the only thing that makes them happy, regardless of how brief that happiness is.
Not this time though.
This time I would kill them with my bare tongues if I had to. No one would threaten my family and get away with it. They would seriously regret fucking with me, of that I was certain.
65
A custody battle ensued, and they never even came to California. It was all done with lawyers, which disgusted me even more. I wanted them to come to me, wanted them to look in my eyes and to look in theirs. I wanted them to the hatred there, the complete lack of fear or anything even remotely resembling fear. Sadly, I never had that chance, because, just like most bullies, they were cowards. The whole thing turned into a joke as well, because they ended up bankrupting themselves in the process of trying to ruin my life. They were so certain they would win that they had spent their every last penny paying the most expensive and impressive lawyer they could find.
What they didn’t take into account, quite stupidly, was the fact that the very money they were so interested in having could now pay for an entire fleet of the best lawyers money could buy. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that though, mostly because my regular attorney already charged an obscene amount and could handle the job quite aptly. She was a celebrity attorney after all and had already handled many such cases. She was one of the best and I was grateful to have her.
It was almost disappointing, the way it had ended so anti-climatically. I had really wanted to rub their faces in the dirt, break more than just their bank account. I had wanted them to suffer profusely.
Even dead was too good for them. I wanted them breathing, eaten alive by ticks, slowly, excruciatingly, until they went blind and insane with agony…
66
My life had been taking quite a toll on my body.
Though I had never done drugs or been much of a
“Why would that be? What could they want form you?”
As it turned out, they wanted something big.
They wanted my life.
64
“What do you mean, ‘custody’?” I screamed into the phone at my lawyer. “How the fuck can they want custody? I haven’t seen them in almost fifteen years!”
“My best guess, from what you’ve told me about them,” she replied calmly, “Is that it really has nothing to do with Crispin. I’m sure they only want custody of him so that you will then be forced to pay them an outrageous amount in child support. More than they’ve ever had in their lives.”
“Well, that’s fucking nuts. It’s not going to happen.”
“Of course it isn’t,” she said. “All this other nonsense about the laws forbidding two different breeds of Mues to…well, to breed , is just so much smoke and mirrors. It’s definitely the money they’re after.”
As is my custom when I’m upset, I yelled the word “Fuck.” I yelled it approximately 70 times throughout the whole of that day. It didn’t matter how many times I was told to stop. I didn’t care who heard it. I didn’t care that it made my son flinch. After about the fiftieth time, he stopped flinching anyway.
Those rotten, no-good, cock-sucking mother fuckers!
How dare they? It wasn’t enough that they had tortured me all through my growing up years? They had to torture me some more? Of course they did. People like that don’t know what to do unless they’re torturing someone. If it wasn’t for that little amusement, they would just shrivel up and blow away in the slightest breeze. They thrived on making other people miserable. It was their sole purpose in life.
But I had beaten them before just by living the life I led. By being happy. They say that’s the best revenge against abuse: to live a happy life. After all, that is the last thing abusers want. Their business is to break you, to make you more miserable than they themselves are. It is the only thing that makes them happy, regardless of how brief that happiness is.
Not this time though.
This time I would kill them with my bare tongues if I had to. No one would threaten my family and get away with it. They would seriously regret fucking with me, of that I was certain.
65
A custody battle ensued, and they never even came to California. It was all done with lawyers, which disgusted me even more. I wanted them to come to me, wanted them to look in my eyes and to look in theirs. I wanted them to the hatred there, the complete lack of fear or anything even remotely resembling fear. Sadly, I never had that chance, because, just like most bullies, they were cowards. The whole thing turned into a joke as well, because they ended up bankrupting themselves in the process of trying to ruin my life. They were so certain they would win that they had spent their every last penny paying the most expensive and impressive lawyer they could find.
What they didn’t take into account, quite stupidly, was the fact that the very money they were so interested in having could now pay for an entire fleet of the best lawyers money could buy. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that though, mostly because my regular attorney already charged an obscene amount and could handle the job quite aptly. She was a celebrity attorney after all and had already handled many such cases. She was one of the best and I was grateful to have her.
It was almost disappointing, the way it had ended so anti-climatically. I had really wanted to rub their faces in the dirt, break more than just their bank account. I had wanted them to suffer profusely.
Even dead was too good for them. I wanted them breathing, eaten alive by ticks, slowly, excruciatingly, until they went blind and insane with agony…
66
My life had been taking quite a toll on my body.
Though I had never done drugs or been much of a
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