|
| What Doesn't Kill You
I stood at the shore and looked toward the horizon. The sun was just setting making a beautiful orangish-yellow glow across the water's surface. I stared at this sight impassively for a moment. It was beautiful, defenitely. I could see it, acknowledge it, but couldn't feel it. Along with my latest epiphany came a body numbing acceptance that I was grateful for. I lifted my eyes upwards to the clouds, a wry grin playing across my lips. "I've figured it out," my voice startled some birds that were scuttling nearby sending them to the sky. I'm sure if anyone had walked by at that moment they would surely think I was insane, talking to the sky as if a reply was expected. But I didn't care. Never have given a damn what anyone thinks of me, or of what I do. I am who I am. Wouldn't be anyone else given the chance. I suppose that could be interpreted as vanity. I prefer to call it a realistic viewpoint on the simple fact that everyone is fucked up in one respect or another. I've come this far in the game an I'm beginning to learn a thing or two. No way in Hell would I want to become someone else with a myriad of untold angst. Besides, everything that has happened in my life has made me who I am today. God's personal guinea pig. How many can lay claim to that bit of "specialness," hm?
I nodded my head an continued, "I've found my raison d'être or rather my raison de ne pas être." I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Hmm, pride, a deadly sin indeed. Not that it matters one whit to me. A damned soul is a damned soul no matter the size of the sin. And it seems I was damned from the get go. I believe I was created for the sole purpose of testing the theory, "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." It seems God was curious so he built an expendable toy to test how much a human spirit can withstand before breaking.....(to be cont'd)
| | |
| A short passage. I don't know when I'll have more. Damn, job >.>
I noticed gradually that if I didn't shrug off Reggie's touch when my mother would tell him to punish me he would pull his punches. And in return all I had to do was let him brush his fingers over my nipples or glide his hand across my ass for as long as he desired, whenever he desired. Fair trade? My self respect and dignity for a few less bruises? A few less welts? No more black eyes or split lips? At the time? I would say it was. I had come to look at my body as a commodity. Nothing more than a bargaining chip. It now worked on the barter system. It was a severely flawed system.
I began to withdraw from everyone, including myself. Hiding inside my shell of numbness I let the world go on around me.
| | |
| More Dysfunctional...
I woke later to an insistent buzzing in my ear. I
groggily lifted my head and looked around, my head
full of morning haziness. I reached over to hit the
button to stop the alarm when a sudden pain shot
through me, reminding me of the previous night's
dream. I was still holding to the belief that it
really was just a dream. But in the back of my mind an in
the bottom of my heart I knew I was just lying to
myself. As I lay there doubled over in pain I knew I
had one of two choices. I could tell my mother what
had happened and hope she believed me. Maybe hold me
close and comfort me, telling me she would take care
of everything. Promising that she'd never let him hurt
me again. Maybe she would even tell me she loved me.
This last thought made me snort in derision. So,
option B it was. Pretend nothing happened and go about
my life as if I'd never had my innocence ripped from
me in one brief violent act. I was very good at
playing "let's pretend."
I crawled out of bed slowly, my body protesting
every movement. I turned to make my bed as I do first
thing every morning. I was proud of my self control. I
knew I could get through this with a relatively sane
mind as long as I didn't think too hard. I began to
pull the blankets up when I noticed a small red stain
on the sheet. My hands started to shake, my stomach
began to roll. I averted my eyes and pulled the
blanket up quickly and pretended I saw nothing. I knew
I would have to deal with this at some point. But
right now my control was too precarious, too new to
challenge. I turned away quickly an bolted for the
door. The sooner this day was was over the better off
I'd be.
As I made my way down the stairs I pushed every
thought that didn't have to do with my chores to the
back of my mind. I made my way into the kitchen and
began making breakfast, finding solace in the mundane,
the every day tasks. I didn't have to think I just had
to do.
I was just putting my mother's plate of pancakes on
her tray when Reggie walked into the kitchen. I
couldn't take my eyes off of him. I was trapped in
that cold stare. I tried to find regret or an apology
in that gaze. I found neither. What I did find was
something that terrified me. A look that held
something akin to possesion. I then had the sinking
feeling that last night was only the beginning. The
plate fell out of my lifeless fingers an fell to the floor shattering in a million pieces.
Yanking my gaze from his I slowly turned to look at the mess I had made.
Pieces of pancake and egg were lying amid the
debris. I knew I had to clean it up before I
was punished for my clumsiness but I couldn't seem to
move. I started to clean the mess when I felt a hand
on my arm. Startled I jumped an my gaze flew to his.
Reggie knelt next to me an began to pick up the pieces
of the shattered plate. I just stared, I had no idea
of what game he was playin this time. I didn't for one
second think he was doin this out of the goodness of
his heart. He had not one ounce of goodness in him. He
looked over at me an ran a finger very gently down my
cheek and said, "Go an get ready for school,
sweetheart, I'll take care of this."
I didn't know what to do. I knew I should move before
I was punsished. I slowly stood, my legs barely able
to support me they were trembling so badly. I also
knew that there would be some kind of payment for this
"favor" he was doing for me. Nothing in life is ever
free, especially in that house. Another lesson early learned. In the days that followed I wondered if
I'd ever be able to look at myself in the mirror
again. | | |
| Well,
it's been forever since I've posted anything. I'm really working on it,
I promise. Things just kinda suck right now. Just be a little more
patient :D
| | |
| More Dyfunctional....
One sunday afternoon I was at the sink
doing dishes (I stood at that sink for most of my teen life) my mother
was behind me sitting at the kitchen table. She looked over at me and
said "Come here." Since I was washing a glass I said, "In a minute." I
wanted to finish what I was doing before I got in trouble. I reckon she
didn't like my answer since all of sudden I felt a hard tug on the back
of my hair as I was drug backwards from the sink. I was flung to the
floor and kicked repeatedly all over, every place that was open
received a blow.
"I fucking told you to come here, dammit!"
Each word was punctuated with a hard kick. I was just so shocked I
didn't know what to do. I curled my body up as tightly as I could
trying to be a smaller target, hoping to minimize the pain. The only
thing that was running over and over in my head was..."Why?" What had I
done so bad that I deserved such harshness. As quickly as it started it
was over. I remember looking up at her with tears running down my face
not able to say a word. I lay there on the floor begging with my eyes
for an explanation, a reason for the sudden attack. All I got was,
"When I say come here that means now, not in a minute." I learned to
come running like a well trained puppy.
My mother didn't often mete out punishment.
She left that job for my step-father. The worst punishment I ever
received from him came late one Thursday night right before my twelfth
birthday. Strange thing is I hadn't done anything wrong that I could
recall. I had just climbed into bed thinking about the day that I had.
School had gone really well. I made the solo for choir and the boy I
liked, Jimmy Motts, liked me back, according to my friends anyway. Life
wasn't so bad at the
moment.
A sudden noise had me jerking
awake it seemed but a few short minutes after I'd drifted off. I looked
around the darkened room but saw nothing and figured it was my
imagination. I snuggled down into my blankets and began to drift off
once again excited about school the next day. Jimmy had given me a note
before last period and asked me to meet him by his locker before school
the following morning. My mind kept going over what he wanted to say to me. I
was hoping he was going to ask me to the dance that was coming up. I
began to dream of what it would be like to dance with a boy. I'd never
done it before and was very excited with the thought of being held that
close by someone as cute as Jimmy. I wondered if he'd try to kiss me, I
also wondered if I'd let him.
Honestly I don't recall how
it came about, all I know is one minute I'm dreaming about being kissed
by the boy I like and the next I'm being pushed down into my bed by a
hard body. I remember looking up with a "what in the hell?" look in my
eyes before I saw the look in his. It was my step father, Reggie. He
was pushing me down into the bed with a hand over my mouth and a, well,
I can't say a hatred. I can't precisely say what the look was but I can
say his eyes had a "fevered" look about them. Kind of glassy..yet
intense.
He leaned down near my face and
whispered harshly, "Not one sound, I can snap your neck before you make
a another." As I looked up into his face I believed him. The cold
reality set in, I believed that he could kill me without a second
thought, without one bit of remorse.
Without moving his hand from my mouth he
slightly lifted his body to sweep the blankets off of me. Each second
that passed the more I knew with a fear so painful that had my heart
beating against my chest like a freight train of what was going to
happen. I began to shake my head pleading with my eyes for him not to
do what he was thinking. But I knew he was too far gone into
whatever...emotion he was in to care. He reached down and grasped my
panties in one hand and just...ripped them right off of me. I began to
struggle. I was damned if I was going to make this easy on him. I
kicked at him and bit his hand as hard as I could. All he did was lift
a fist and gave me a punch in the jaw that had me reeling. I blinked
the stars away and began to cry and beg to be let go. What else could I
do, he was so much bigger than me. All I had were my tears and a hope
that he had some compassion. He didn't. In desperation I began to
struggle like a wild animal kicking and bucking my body, twisting and
turning in the hopes that he'd let go and I could escape. I wasn't even
being quiet anymore, I would have prefered to have my neck snapped than
to endure what I knew was going to happen. He just gripped my thighs
and pulled me up closer to him.
Why didn't anyone hear me?! Why
didn't someone come and help me?! "Oh God oh God oh God, why?!" "Why was
this happening to me?!" That's the only thoughts my mind could wrap
around.
He leaned over and looked into my
eyes right before he pushed himself into my body. I'd never felt such
pain in all my life, not even when my brother and I were playing and he
pushed me into the coffee table and split my chin wide open. I had
thought that pain was unimaginable.That was nothing compared to this
agony. I felt like my body was shattering into a million painful pieces
with each thrust of his body into mine. I don't know where I went but I
knew I wasn't there anymore. At least not mentally. My mind had
taken me some place else, some place where this kind of thing didn't
really happen. I believe I was trying to convince myself it was all
just a terrible dream, a nightmare that I'd soon wake from. I heard him
grunt and groan and then felt a heaviness on me where he'd fallen,
exhausted. But this wasn't real, this was just a dream. I was going to
wake up at any minute, the alarm was sure to go off. I had to meet
Jimmy today by his locker. I felt him move off of me and heard his
foosteps as he walked across the room to the door. I pulled myself up
into the fetal position in my dream...because that's all this
was...just a terrible dream....
This page is copywritten by Michelle Buhler. All items therein are
subject to copyright laws and regulations. Information posted on this
website remains the private information of the poster of the
information,
All rights reserved.Copyright 2005-2006 SangoStrummer
| | |
|
