Growing up in Browns Mills, New Jersey, the pine barrens, I was made to believe that I lived in a haunted house that was once occupied by an unknown serial killer named Charlie Brown, who used to kidnap little girls and make them disappear. The truth is, I grew up in a home worse than haunted, occupied by a monster worse than the fictitious Charlie Brown.
My name is Melody Zoe and I was born into what I was molded to fear, I was born kidnapped. I was kidnapped by my own biological parents who were so cruel as construct the perfect story to masque and justify the treacherous insomnia and mind wrecking nightmares of a man attacking a little girl.
My Father, Greg molested me my entire childhood. From birth to the age of about ten. In my poetry and works of fiction, and even my visual art, I have described a monster that lived under my bed. I could never face the fact that monster is my own Dads face.
My parents used the notion of reincarnation to brainwash myself and both of my siblings. My Mother would tell me that in a “past life” I was died young and violently, and that was why I was so sad for such a young girl. She used that story to try and stop me from thinking any more of childhood depression and strange behavior. She would even bring me dream catchers to console my turmoil.
My Mother, Michelle, practiced matters of the occult. She represented herself as a spiritual woman with the intention of creating a magical and safe environment for her children. She used everything she had at her disposal to strengthen her façade.
I used to fall asleep on the floor of my bedroom, with my eyes fixed on the tiny opening between the floor and the door, just listening to my parents talk. Protecting my bed. My bedroom, where sleep should have happened, but never did. Where my little Sister slept. They girl I’ve somehow lost throughout this diablerie.
My parents would even laugh and joke about it when they would open my door in the morning, hitting my head with it.
214 Ridge Rd., Browns Mills, New Jersey is where I got lost inside of my own mind, and where Hell truly existed. That is the place where the child in me has never been able to escape. Or even realize that she was trapped and shackled, beaten, molested, and brainwashed.
The nightmares that have plagued me my entire life have not only revealed themselves to true, but worse than I could have ever let myself imagine.
My Father is a self-proclaimed musician and sociopath. He would beat our animals, and even killed them in front me. He beat a kitten to death for hissing at him. If my dog growled, he would hit her with a shovel. If I did anything he deemed “wrong,” he would treat me nearly the same. And then force me to listen to his music as I sat paralyzed in fear. Eventually, the physical abuse felt like nothing, maybe even the closest thing to love he could provide. Who knows.
My parents bastardized religion. My Mother practices something called, Hoodoo, “root magic,” and my Father is obsessed with his twisted understand of Eastern Philosophy and believes he his God. He would tell me he was God, often. And would do so today if given the chance. My Mother, she believes that in her dreams that visits the place she will go when she dies, she describes it as a party, a family reunion where all of her dead family members are waiting for her. It is very disturbing.
The level of psychosis I was forced to live inside of, only becomes more disturbing and unbelievable the deeper I go into my desperate attempt to explain it. It was even more difficult to identify and escape. I hope one day to tell the whole story and penetrate the minds of others like me.
My journey at this point is chthonic, but am determined to escape this mental hell with the fervor to live a life of beauty and devote my turmoil to fighting the real monsters that exist here on Earth.