They say that there's so many ways to become addicted to something, and their right. I became addicted to having people hurt me and no matter what they did; I always went back for more.
It all started with my father, his beating me made me hate him, but for some stupid reason I always went back for more.
No one knew of my addiction, in fact I hid it from all my friends, and it soon became this sick game that I played.
One day, I guess I became bored with this sick little game I was playing and I found that I needed more, so what did I do, I pissed you off and you beat the living hell out of me, and that gave me such a rush that I had to have more.
So I started finding different ways to make you angry just so that you'd hurt me, I guess you'd say that you were my drug and my addiction was becoming so out of control that I didn't care if it killed me, I needed that high to survive.
It didn't take you long to realize what my game was and it pleased you that you could cause me such misery so from that day on, you made it your mission to find different ways to cause my life a living hell.
I know that I need help, but if I stopped I think that I'll go insane, so here I am back for more pain and anguish. You open the door and invite me in, and then the pain would start, the one thing that made my life worth while.
I'll probably die someday from all the beatings and abuse you give me, but for now I feel as if I'm in some kind of euphoric heaven, please don't stop, I need this more then I need air to breathe, please don't stop.
Well the beatings did continue and then one day, the body of Joseph Wheeler was found in a dark and damp alley, he had been beaten to death, his body was so badly beaten that at first no one knew who he was.
His father didn't care if he was dead, he was quoted, "Well I don't have to support that freak anymore." His friends all are sad that he couldn't come to them for help.
His abuser stood at the back of the Church and watched the services and for a spilt second he actually felt some remorse for what he had done, but then he turned and walked away, thinking to himself, "There'll never be anyone like him again, anyone who relished in the pain and anguish that came from being beaten and abused by me."