It is 11:45p.m.
William F. Johnson, 18 years old, is on a plane to a place far away from his boyhood home.
A few hours before, when he left that boyhood home for the last time, Trevor McKinskey ceased to exist.
You see, Trevor was planning this 18th birthday self-present since he was ten years old.
His father was a brutal drunkard and mom a sheepish, frightened coward who provided no barrier or safety from him. His first memory was one of sheer terror as his father wailed and threw things around the house in a rage. His second memory was still his most vivid, he knew at any moment this man could kill him.
He did all he could from that moment to protect himself and manipulate the monster. Now the monster would never hurt him again.
He was an avid reader, the one hobby his father never ridiculed him for having. He would realize much later in life that was because his other hobbies usually required some participation from his father. So, there was no baseball, camping, astronomy or driving to the mountains for weekly hikes. Little Trevor's reading caused no disruption to his father's drinking regimen.
On his tenth birthday the epiphany happened. He read about people who purposefully disappear. They change their names, social security numbers, driver’s license, birth certificates and birthdays. One day, their old identity vanishes, and the new one is born.
For 8 years he worked every job he could. He was every neighbor’s little helper. No one shoveled more snow, cut more grass or raked more leaves. And as soon as he was old enough, he got real jobs. Never less than three at a time.
By the age of seventeen, he had saved double the amount of money he would need to pay for his new documents. He needed the extra for his resettlement.
He spent the next year mapping out the rest of his life.
At 7am the next day, the sheepish cowardly worst mother in the universe, Mrs. McKinskey came downstairs. She walked over to the coffee pot that had automatically started brewing at 6:50am. As she poured her first cup, she noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen table through her still puffy and swollen eyes.
She picked it up and read it aloud.
Mom,
You will never see or hear from me again. My writing this note is a form of denial.
These notes are usually written to mother’s so they know their child wasn’t abducted, but they simply went on their way wanting to start a new life. They are written for loving and nurturing mothers who would cry everyday for the rest of their lives because their baby was missing. We both know you were not born with any level of maternal instinct and that you will shed no tears.
The sad part, mom, is that you don’t deserve this note. You deserve to worry about my fate forever, but then I wouldn’t be able to tell you exactly how I feel about you.
You let dad’s rage have free range on me emotionally and physically and all the while you just stood there silent while your only child was abused.
I begged you to call the police hundreds of times, but you said we shouldn’t air our dirty laundry.
When my teachers called, concerned about visible and constant bruises, you threatened to sue them for slander.
Mom, your abuse was worse than Dad’s. Dad is a maniac, acting out in drunken rages he doesn’t understand.
You are the worst type of abuser, the cool, calculating, self-interested and conscious neglector. You neglected and abandoned me.
When you die you both will face your judgment.
There will be no deathbed reconciliation with your son, decades gone, suddenly at your side crying with joy at our reunion, to give you the forgiveness that you will so yearn for as your final days are upon you.
I am the only one who can give you that absolution, and I will be happily thousands of miles away, still lying to my wife and children that their father was raised in an orphanage.
God was merciful and gave you only one child.
Goodbye
She didn’t realize her severely hungover husband had been standing in the kitchen doorway the whole time and heard every word.
She looked at him, no tear in her eye, or sad quiver on her lips.
Her full narcissist came right out and she said.
“But, he seemed so happy. We gave him everything. He always was a selfish boy."
