I'm not a huge fan of Florence + the Machine but I do like this song, and it is particularly relate-able right now....
"Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can
see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
And
every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to
myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the
dawn
And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the
past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that
horse around
And our love is pastured such a mournful sound
Tonight I'm
gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
But
it's always darkest before the dawn
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it
out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake
it out, ooh woaaaah
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So
shake him off, oh woah
I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight
I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues
drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it
out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
And it's hard to
dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah
And it's hard to
dance with a devil on your back so shake him off
And given half the
chance would I take any of it back
It's a fine romance but its left me so
undone
It's always darkest before the dawn
Oh woah, oh
woah...
And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't
So here's to
drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I'm ready to suffer and I'm
ready to hope
It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat
Cause looking
for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in
me
Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me
Shake it out,
shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it
out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
And it's hard to dance with a
devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah...."
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Shattered
When you are in love
You live in a world
Built out of glass walls
you imagine are bullet,
shatter proof with the thickest
of glass.
Until it cracks
A centimeter in length
Tension building with fear
Of broken shards.
Ignoring only makes
The crack grow longer
Splintering off in all directions.
So you fight the pain
You refuse to give up
And try to mend the cracks
With a resin of false smiles,
And shallow lies.
But the resin only holds
So long
And the crack spreads its legs
Like a venomous tarantula
Poisoning what took so long to build.
Until the day comes
You hold the sharp pieces
In your bloody hands
Oblivious
to the ache in your palms
desperately trying,
still trying,
to put the pieces back
together again.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Some old stuff....
Sorry Isn't Good Enough
Why can’t I give you all that I am?
Am I not good enough
For the likes of you?
It seems it’s so, for I can not please.
My arms remained carved,
Masked by sleeves.
These selfish hands stab your wounded heart,
Suffering in agony as we both bleed.
Why do my foolish eyes refuse to see
The demon heart inside of me?
To erase your pain, caress your heart,
Would do but all tear me apart.
These tears shall not fall upon my grave,
This beast not mourned, not loved, not saved.
I wish it now, that I could LOATHE myself to death.
I’m sorry, my apology, my final breath.
Masterpiece
I am nothing that you think.
I am scarred, I am bruised.
I am marked, covered in ink.
I am a masterpiece.
I am tough, yet I am weak.
I am thoughtful. yet very rude.
I am not those words you speak.
I am a masterpiece.
I break hearts, I’ve felt mine shatter.
I carry on, ignore the rumors.
I hold myself higher than senseless chatter.
I am a masterpiece.
Why can’t I give you all that I am?
Am I not good enough
For the likes of you?
It seems it’s so, for I can not please.
My arms remained carved,
Masked by sleeves.
These selfish hands stab your wounded heart,
Suffering in agony as we both bleed.
Why do my foolish eyes refuse to see
The demon heart inside of me?
To erase your pain, caress your heart,
Would do but all tear me apart.
These tears shall not fall upon my grave,
This beast not mourned, not loved, not saved.
I wish it now, that I could LOATHE myself to death.
I’m sorry, my apology, my final breath.
Masterpiece
I am nothing that you think.
I am scarred, I am bruised.
I am marked, covered in ink.
I am a masterpiece.
I am tough, yet I am weak.
I am thoughtful. yet very rude.
I am not those words you speak.
I am a masterpiece.
I break hearts, I’ve felt mine shatter.
I carry on, ignore the rumors.
I hold myself higher than senseless chatter.
I am a masterpiece.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Invincible
It was late. The apartment was dark and unusually silent as Ashley rolled out of bed and pulled on her black baggy sweatshirt. She pulled the sleeves down to cover her pale hands and touched the flecks of white paint from nights before. She put the torn, stained sleeves to her nose and inhaled deeply. The smell of freedom, the rush of rebellion, the high of creation, flooded her nasal cavity. Ashley smiled as she gathered her supplies and placed them gently in her black backpack. Everything had to be black, to blend in with the darkness of the night sky. The point was to create/rebel/enlighten, not to get caught.
The city was only a bike ride away, and streets were peaceful at this time of night allowing her to create images in her brain before arranging them precisely on a blank wall. The bike ride was a crucial part of the process so she didn’t mind the 20 minute trek through the city streets. The breeze in her hair and quietness of the twilight fueled Ashley’s creativity as she avoided potholes to keep her spray paint cans from clinking together in her back pack.
To her, this wasn’t just art, or rebellion. It was an escape. It was in these moments, crouched beside old abandoned railroad cars, clinging to the ledge of buildings, climbing onto billboard signs, creating something beautiful, that she could forget everything. The grief. The shouting. The anger. The helplessness. The loneliness. All of this disappeared with every moment she held a spray paint can in her hand. When Ashley was roaming the dark city in her baggy black clothing, camouflaged into the night, she felt invincible.
Tonight was no different as she rode her reliable rusty old Schwinn down the empty streets of the city. Her head was full of ideas and adrenaline as she pictured the exact blank wall that she was about to make beautiful. She had been eyeing this spot for weeks, contemplating how she would make her way up the side of the old brick building. After circling the building one sunny afternoon, she noticed a small dumpster on wheels nearby a fire escape. Elated by the access to this envious blank wall, she ran off and began to sketch out her plan of attack in her secret black leather-bound notebook she had in her backpack at all times. Tonight was the night she turned that sketch into a work of art for the entire city to see.
When Ashley had finally reached the old brick building, she made swift precise movements to avoid calling attention to the white girl dressed in black, hiding her bike in the bushes. Already having surveyed the area for cameras, she knew there was no need to hide her face. As quietly as possible, Ashley used all of her strength and pushed the graffiti covered dumpster closer to the fire escape ladder. The process was exhausting, but she didn’t let her focus stray away from the final product. She climbed up onto the dumpster with ease and jumped to reach the first step of the fire escape ladder. The secrecy and anticipation of what she was about to do gave her upper body enough adrenaline to pull herself up the ladder and climb up onto the roof of the building. She took a moment to breathe when she reached the rooftop, staring in amazement at the beauty of the city below her.
Ashley was a very organized individual when it came to creating art. She had to set each can in a perfect line, organized by what order she would need them. She didn’t like to rush her work, but often in daring spots (such as on top of an old brick building on a main street) it was best to work quickly…or else risk getting caught. But this was the last thing on Ashley’s mind as she set her paint in order and shoved headphones into her ears. She was already slipping into her own world where all that mattered was the music in her ears, the art she was creating, and the memories.
It had become a ritual to her to reminisce on memories of her father. Her favorite memory was of the day her father had let her skip school and took her on a trip to the local art museum. He shared her love of art, and he had always told her that one day her paintings would be hanging in an art gallery. It was a month after the accident that Ashley traded her pretty paintings on canvas, to emotional expression on blank walls and subway cars. I wonder if Daddy would be proud…or ashamed? Ashley often thought to herself. However, she knew in the back of her mind that it didn’t matter. This wasn’t for him. This was to fill that void in her chest that appeared the day he was no longer there. This was her only way to deal with the agony of losing the only person who believed in her.
The accident happened a year ago. Ashley’s mother and father went out one night for a romantic evening together considering they hadn’t had much time alone since her mother had given birth to Ashley’s baby brother, Joey, about 7 months earlier. As they were heading home after a night of laughter and gentle touches, their car was hit on the driver’s side by a sad, drunk old man in a pick-up truck. Ashley’s father died instantly, while her mother suffered serious injuries including several broken bones, and a broken heart.
The day Ashley’s father died, her whole family died with him.
Her mother was prescribed pain pills for her severe injuries. The chronic physical pain, enhanced by the even worse psychological pain, made her vulnerable to any substance that would make her numb. The pain pills were her escape. She gave up being a mother, and spent most of her time chasing down too many pain pills with a bottle of vodka, and passing out on the couch. Due to the fact that Ashley’s mother was unable to function, she got fired from her job at a local bank, forcing the family to move out of their beautiful home in the suburbs, to a rundown, dirty, old apartment building on the edge of the city.
Ashley hated her mother for abandoning them, and often found herself wishing the accident had taken her mother instead of her father. She always felt guilty for these thoughts, but the truth was that her mother was already dead inside. There was nothing left but a shell of the woman she used to be.
But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the work of art that she was creating for the world to see. Ashley wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from her eye as she began adding the final touches to her colorful masterpiece. She let the bad memories fade to blackness, and got lost in her work until she was pulled back to reality at the site of blue flickering lights.
“Shit!” Ashley exclaimed in a panicked whisper.
Her heart began to race and she broke out in a heavy sweat as the blue lights pulled up to the old brick building. She crouched in the darkness, contemplating her next move. For a split second, she considered jumping head first off the building. The building was only a few stories high but she figured an impact head first was enough to kill her, or at least turn her into a numb-to-emotion vegetable. In that second, she wanted to embrace death and reunite with her father. But that second passed as quickly as it came, and instead she scurried quietly down the fire escape, jumped to the pavement behind the brick building, and took off as soon as her torn up Converse hit the ground.
She could see flashlights shining behind her, and deep voices shouting into the night. But she didn’t look back, not even for a moment. Ashley kept running until her legs were numb and her mind was blank. She ran until her lungs began to ache in her chest, sending sharp painful messages to her brain to stop running before she collapsed. Finally, Ashley ducked into a dark alleyway and sunk to the pavement, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath.
She sat there for a while until she was sure there were no blue lights or angry shouts following her. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and clutched her now empty back pack as she rose slowly to her feet. Exhausted and light-headed, she began walking in the direction of her apartment, cursing herself for leaving her beloved Schwinn in the bushes for any common criminal to steal. She vowed to herself she would return first thing tomorrow morning to reclaim her bike, and examine her masterpiece in the light of the morning sun. She smiled to herself as she though back to the wall, covered in painted pieces of who she was.
Ashley was lost in her thoughts when a car pulled up beside her. At first she paid little attention, and simply began to walk faster, until the blue lights flashed in her peripherals. Ashley stopped dead in her tracks, and turned to face the cop car beside her.
“Hey! You!” a young looking cop shouting from his window. “What are you doing out here?”
Ashley stood motionless and silent, frozen in fear at the idea of being caught.
“Are you deaf? I said what are you doing?”
“I’m…uh…I…um…” she stuttered back, searching for words that she could not form in that moment. Her thin legs began to shake, threatening to collapse beneath her.
“Come here,” the officer demanded.
Ashley slowly made her way closer to the window. Her eyes squinted as the police officer shined a bright light in her face. Suddenly, the officer’s whole demeanor changed. He was suddenly less angry, and more concerned as he realized he was interrogating a young girl. He quickly turned off his flashlight and apologized.
“Get in; I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Oh…no…I…I like walking…” Ashley mumbled, her legs still shaking violently beneath her.
“I don’t think so. Get in the car,” he replied sternly.
Her heart pounding against her ribcage, Ashley began to slowly open the door to the back seat, and crawled inside. The car smelt of body odor and dirty socks, and she wondered if that’s what all cop cars smelt like. Is this the smell of criminals? She touched the cold bars on the window as the cop pulled away from the curb. And this what it feels like to be a criminal. I wonder if the guy who killed my father felt this afraid…Ashley shuddered at the thought and begin picking flecks of paint off the sleeves of her black sweatshirt, anxious to erase any evidence.
“So, where do you live?” the officer asked Ashley in a gentle tone.
She looked up from picking at her sleeves to keep from seeming suspicious. “Oh…um…the Queen Anne Apartment complex….just on the edge of the city…”
“I know where that is. What are you doing way out here? At 2 in the morning?”
“I…I don’t know. I needed to…I needed…fresh air…” Ashley stuttered. Her nerves were making it impossible for her to form convincing lies.
“I see. You know it’s not safe for a girl your age to just roam the streets at this time of night. There are a lot of crazies out there. How old are you anyway?”
“Fourteen.”
Ashley could see the officer shake his head in the front seat. Petrified that he was on to her, she began franticly picking the dried paint off her sleeves again until there was nothing left. He can’t prove a damn thing…
“It’s a dangerous world out there; you can’t just go walking the streets alone like that. You could’ve got yourself killed. I’m just glad you’re okay…uh…uh…I don’t think I caught your name?”
“Ashley…” she muttered.
“Ashley…what’s your last name, Ashley?”
Realizing he would not be satisfied knowing her on a first name basis only, she gave in and quietly muttered her last name. “Graysen. Ashley Graysen.”
The air in the car turned thick with her words. It suddenly felt hard to breathe as tension filled the tiny spaces between each metal bar in the cop’s car. Ashley knew what was coming next, but she also knew there was no way to prepare herself for the pain it would provoke.
“Wait. Was Jonathen Graysen your father?”
Ashley felt the hot tears begin to blur my vision as she mumbled a helpless “Yes.”
“I am so sorry, hun. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It must be hard…”
You have no idea. Ashley sat silently, refusing to let the tears escape from her eyes. Of course the cop knew, everyone knew. When the accident had happened, it had been all over the papers for weeks. Jonathen Graysen had been a local firefighter, and everyone grieved over a fallen local hero. Everyone grieved, but no one offered any help to her family. They were left to rot in the shadow of her father’s death. Suddenly she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down her face in silent rivers of overwhelming grief. Why did you have to take him? Of all the people in the world, why him??
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride to the apartment. Ashley grieved silently in the back seat with the cop’s loud radio hiding the sound of her sniffling. When they reached Ashley’s apartment building, she wiped her raw eyes on her sweatshirt and waited for the cop to let her out. When he opened the door, Ashley stepped out into the light of the parking lot cautiously. She stared at the pavement to avoid eye contact with the young cop; afraid he’d see right through her and arrest her on the spot.
“My name is Officer Conroy, by the way,” he extended his hand and Ashley hesitantly shook it. “I’m not going to come up to your apartment and get you in trouble with your mother this time, but if I catch you out this late again, I’m going to have to do something about it.”
Ashley nodded. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay, Ashley. Stay strong,” Officer Conroy said with a hopeful smile as he gently touched Ashley’s shoulder.
She flinched at his touch, and pulled away immediately as she responded, “Yea...thanks. I’m gonna…go now. It’s getting late. Thank you for the ride, officer. It won’t happen again.”
As soon as Ashley made it to the 3rd floor in her building, her heart sank at the muffled sound of her brother crying. She quietly unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside the dark living room. The crying was louder now, as Joey screamed for his mother. His mother, however, lay still on the torn old couch, with various pain pills and alcohol coursing through her blood stream. Dead to the world. Ashley suddenly felt nothing but rage at the sight of her unresponsive mother. More than anything, she wanted to smash the empty bottle of vodka against her mother’s forehead.
Instead, Ashley walked over to her mother’s motionless body and slapped her across the face. The palm on cheek contact immediately startled her mother from her substance-induced sleep and she began to moan in pain.
“Whattin tha fahk didjou do dat for?” she slurred, trying desperately to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her skull.
“That’s from Dad,” Ashley shouted, as angry hot tears streamed down her face. “For fucking abandoning your children! You’re not the only one who wants this pain to stop, you know? You’re not the only one who lost somebody!”
Ashley’s mother stared up at her, confused, still fighting to stay conscious.
“Ashley…whatta yew talkin bout?” She began to sway, closing her eyes tight as she clutched her ears to block out Joey’s crying. “Yer fahkin’ brofer won’t shattup…I can’t fahkin shleep…”
Realizing her mother was too gone to comprehend reality, Ashley gave up trying to talk. She grabbed the pills off the coffee table and walked to the kitchen. With one quick motion she dumped the pills into the garbage disposal, and flicked the switch. The loud grinding muffled the cries of her mother as she cursed Ashley from the couch.
“Yew bitch…I needs those….I FAHKIN NEED THOSE! Whattin da fahk is yer fahkin problem?”
Ignoring her mother’s angry, incoherent shouts, Ashley walked to her brother’s room. She picked up young, innocent Joey, and held him close to her chest as she walked to her room. Joey had stopped crying, but his body was tense with the shouts of his mother coming from the living room.
“It’s okay, Joey. I’ve got you,” Ashley whispered as she locked the door behind her.
She gently tucked Joey into her twin sized bed, and crawled in beside him. Joey began to whimper again, as their mother’s shouts grew louder. Ashley suddenly remembered the nights when she was young, and couldn’t sleep after a horrible nightmare. Her father would always tuck her into bed, and place headphones attached to a CD player on her night stand over her ears. He would kiss her forehead and press play. Light sounds of beautiful classical music would fill her ears, and without a thought to the monster under her bed, she’d always drift into a restful sleep.
Ashley pulled out her MP3 player and placed the headphones over Joey’s ears. She kissed his forehead lightly and pressed play, and immediately his body relaxed. Ashley drifted into a heavy sleep to the light sound of classical music, escaping from Joey’s ears.
The city was only a bike ride away, and streets were peaceful at this time of night allowing her to create images in her brain before arranging them precisely on a blank wall. The bike ride was a crucial part of the process so she didn’t mind the 20 minute trek through the city streets. The breeze in her hair and quietness of the twilight fueled Ashley’s creativity as she avoided potholes to keep her spray paint cans from clinking together in her back pack.
To her, this wasn’t just art, or rebellion. It was an escape. It was in these moments, crouched beside old abandoned railroad cars, clinging to the ledge of buildings, climbing onto billboard signs, creating something beautiful, that she could forget everything. The grief. The shouting. The anger. The helplessness. The loneliness. All of this disappeared with every moment she held a spray paint can in her hand. When Ashley was roaming the dark city in her baggy black clothing, camouflaged into the night, she felt invincible.
Tonight was no different as she rode her reliable rusty old Schwinn down the empty streets of the city. Her head was full of ideas and adrenaline as she pictured the exact blank wall that she was about to make beautiful. She had been eyeing this spot for weeks, contemplating how she would make her way up the side of the old brick building. After circling the building one sunny afternoon, she noticed a small dumpster on wheels nearby a fire escape. Elated by the access to this envious blank wall, she ran off and began to sketch out her plan of attack in her secret black leather-bound notebook she had in her backpack at all times. Tonight was the night she turned that sketch into a work of art for the entire city to see.
When Ashley had finally reached the old brick building, she made swift precise movements to avoid calling attention to the white girl dressed in black, hiding her bike in the bushes. Already having surveyed the area for cameras, she knew there was no need to hide her face. As quietly as possible, Ashley used all of her strength and pushed the graffiti covered dumpster closer to the fire escape ladder. The process was exhausting, but she didn’t let her focus stray away from the final product. She climbed up onto the dumpster with ease and jumped to reach the first step of the fire escape ladder. The secrecy and anticipation of what she was about to do gave her upper body enough adrenaline to pull herself up the ladder and climb up onto the roof of the building. She took a moment to breathe when she reached the rooftop, staring in amazement at the beauty of the city below her.
Ashley was a very organized individual when it came to creating art. She had to set each can in a perfect line, organized by what order she would need them. She didn’t like to rush her work, but often in daring spots (such as on top of an old brick building on a main street) it was best to work quickly…or else risk getting caught. But this was the last thing on Ashley’s mind as she set her paint in order and shoved headphones into her ears. She was already slipping into her own world where all that mattered was the music in her ears, the art she was creating, and the memories.
It had become a ritual to her to reminisce on memories of her father. Her favorite memory was of the day her father had let her skip school and took her on a trip to the local art museum. He shared her love of art, and he had always told her that one day her paintings would be hanging in an art gallery. It was a month after the accident that Ashley traded her pretty paintings on canvas, to emotional expression on blank walls and subway cars. I wonder if Daddy would be proud…or ashamed? Ashley often thought to herself. However, she knew in the back of her mind that it didn’t matter. This wasn’t for him. This was to fill that void in her chest that appeared the day he was no longer there. This was her only way to deal with the agony of losing the only person who believed in her.
The accident happened a year ago. Ashley’s mother and father went out one night for a romantic evening together considering they hadn’t had much time alone since her mother had given birth to Ashley’s baby brother, Joey, about 7 months earlier. As they were heading home after a night of laughter and gentle touches, their car was hit on the driver’s side by a sad, drunk old man in a pick-up truck. Ashley’s father died instantly, while her mother suffered serious injuries including several broken bones, and a broken heart.
The day Ashley’s father died, her whole family died with him.
Her mother was prescribed pain pills for her severe injuries. The chronic physical pain, enhanced by the even worse psychological pain, made her vulnerable to any substance that would make her numb. The pain pills were her escape. She gave up being a mother, and spent most of her time chasing down too many pain pills with a bottle of vodka, and passing out on the couch. Due to the fact that Ashley’s mother was unable to function, she got fired from her job at a local bank, forcing the family to move out of their beautiful home in the suburbs, to a rundown, dirty, old apartment building on the edge of the city.
Ashley hated her mother for abandoning them, and often found herself wishing the accident had taken her mother instead of her father. She always felt guilty for these thoughts, but the truth was that her mother was already dead inside. There was nothing left but a shell of the woman she used to be.
But none of that mattered now. All that mattered was the work of art that she was creating for the world to see. Ashley wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from her eye as she began adding the final touches to her colorful masterpiece. She let the bad memories fade to blackness, and got lost in her work until she was pulled back to reality at the site of blue flickering lights.
“Shit!” Ashley exclaimed in a panicked whisper.
Her heart began to race and she broke out in a heavy sweat as the blue lights pulled up to the old brick building. She crouched in the darkness, contemplating her next move. For a split second, she considered jumping head first off the building. The building was only a few stories high but she figured an impact head first was enough to kill her, or at least turn her into a numb-to-emotion vegetable. In that second, she wanted to embrace death and reunite with her father. But that second passed as quickly as it came, and instead she scurried quietly down the fire escape, jumped to the pavement behind the brick building, and took off as soon as her torn up Converse hit the ground.
She could see flashlights shining behind her, and deep voices shouting into the night. But she didn’t look back, not even for a moment. Ashley kept running until her legs were numb and her mind was blank. She ran until her lungs began to ache in her chest, sending sharp painful messages to her brain to stop running before she collapsed. Finally, Ashley ducked into a dark alleyway and sunk to the pavement, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath.
She sat there for a while until she was sure there were no blue lights or angry shouts following her. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and clutched her now empty back pack as she rose slowly to her feet. Exhausted and light-headed, she began walking in the direction of her apartment, cursing herself for leaving her beloved Schwinn in the bushes for any common criminal to steal. She vowed to herself she would return first thing tomorrow morning to reclaim her bike, and examine her masterpiece in the light of the morning sun. She smiled to herself as she though back to the wall, covered in painted pieces of who she was.
Ashley was lost in her thoughts when a car pulled up beside her. At first she paid little attention, and simply began to walk faster, until the blue lights flashed in her peripherals. Ashley stopped dead in her tracks, and turned to face the cop car beside her.
“Hey! You!” a young looking cop shouting from his window. “What are you doing out here?”
Ashley stood motionless and silent, frozen in fear at the idea of being caught.
“Are you deaf? I said what are you doing?”
“I’m…uh…I…um…” she stuttered back, searching for words that she could not form in that moment. Her thin legs began to shake, threatening to collapse beneath her.
“Come here,” the officer demanded.
Ashley slowly made her way closer to the window. Her eyes squinted as the police officer shined a bright light in her face. Suddenly, the officer’s whole demeanor changed. He was suddenly less angry, and more concerned as he realized he was interrogating a young girl. He quickly turned off his flashlight and apologized.
“Get in; I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Oh…no…I…I like walking…” Ashley mumbled, her legs still shaking violently beneath her.
“I don’t think so. Get in the car,” he replied sternly.
Her heart pounding against her ribcage, Ashley began to slowly open the door to the back seat, and crawled inside. The car smelt of body odor and dirty socks, and she wondered if that’s what all cop cars smelt like. Is this the smell of criminals? She touched the cold bars on the window as the cop pulled away from the curb. And this what it feels like to be a criminal. I wonder if the guy who killed my father felt this afraid…Ashley shuddered at the thought and begin picking flecks of paint off the sleeves of her black sweatshirt, anxious to erase any evidence.
“So, where do you live?” the officer asked Ashley in a gentle tone.
She looked up from picking at her sleeves to keep from seeming suspicious. “Oh…um…the Queen Anne Apartment complex….just on the edge of the city…”
“I know where that is. What are you doing way out here? At 2 in the morning?”
“I…I don’t know. I needed to…I needed…fresh air…” Ashley stuttered. Her nerves were making it impossible for her to form convincing lies.
“I see. You know it’s not safe for a girl your age to just roam the streets at this time of night. There are a lot of crazies out there. How old are you anyway?”
“Fourteen.”
Ashley could see the officer shake his head in the front seat. Petrified that he was on to her, she began franticly picking the dried paint off her sleeves again until there was nothing left. He can’t prove a damn thing…
“It’s a dangerous world out there; you can’t just go walking the streets alone like that. You could’ve got yourself killed. I’m just glad you’re okay…uh…uh…I don’t think I caught your name?”
“Ashley…” she muttered.
“Ashley…what’s your last name, Ashley?”
Realizing he would not be satisfied knowing her on a first name basis only, she gave in and quietly muttered her last name. “Graysen. Ashley Graysen.”
The air in the car turned thick with her words. It suddenly felt hard to breathe as tension filled the tiny spaces between each metal bar in the cop’s car. Ashley knew what was coming next, but she also knew there was no way to prepare herself for the pain it would provoke.
“Wait. Was Jonathen Graysen your father?”
Ashley felt the hot tears begin to blur my vision as she mumbled a helpless “Yes.”
“I am so sorry, hun. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It must be hard…”
You have no idea. Ashley sat silently, refusing to let the tears escape from her eyes. Of course the cop knew, everyone knew. When the accident had happened, it had been all over the papers for weeks. Jonathen Graysen had been a local firefighter, and everyone grieved over a fallen local hero. Everyone grieved, but no one offered any help to her family. They were left to rot in the shadow of her father’s death. Suddenly she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down her face in silent rivers of overwhelming grief. Why did you have to take him? Of all the people in the world, why him??
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride to the apartment. Ashley grieved silently in the back seat with the cop’s loud radio hiding the sound of her sniffling. When they reached Ashley’s apartment building, she wiped her raw eyes on her sweatshirt and waited for the cop to let her out. When he opened the door, Ashley stepped out into the light of the parking lot cautiously. She stared at the pavement to avoid eye contact with the young cop; afraid he’d see right through her and arrest her on the spot.
“My name is Officer Conroy, by the way,” he extended his hand and Ashley hesitantly shook it. “I’m not going to come up to your apartment and get you in trouble with your mother this time, but if I catch you out this late again, I’m going to have to do something about it.”
Ashley nodded. “Thank you.”
“It’s going to be okay, Ashley. Stay strong,” Officer Conroy said with a hopeful smile as he gently touched Ashley’s shoulder.
She flinched at his touch, and pulled away immediately as she responded, “Yea...thanks. I’m gonna…go now. It’s getting late. Thank you for the ride, officer. It won’t happen again.”
As soon as Ashley made it to the 3rd floor in her building, her heart sank at the muffled sound of her brother crying. She quietly unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside the dark living room. The crying was louder now, as Joey screamed for his mother. His mother, however, lay still on the torn old couch, with various pain pills and alcohol coursing through her blood stream. Dead to the world. Ashley suddenly felt nothing but rage at the sight of her unresponsive mother. More than anything, she wanted to smash the empty bottle of vodka against her mother’s forehead.
That would wake her the fuck up.
Instead, Ashley walked over to her mother’s motionless body and slapped her across the face. The palm on cheek contact immediately startled her mother from her substance-induced sleep and she began to moan in pain.
“Whattin tha fahk didjou do dat for?” she slurred, trying desperately to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her skull.
“That’s from Dad,” Ashley shouted, as angry hot tears streamed down her face. “For fucking abandoning your children! You’re not the only one who wants this pain to stop, you know? You’re not the only one who lost somebody!”
Ashley’s mother stared up at her, confused, still fighting to stay conscious.
“Ashley…whatta yew talkin bout?” She began to sway, closing her eyes tight as she clutched her ears to block out Joey’s crying. “Yer fahkin’ brofer won’t shattup…I can’t fahkin shleep…”
Realizing her mother was too gone to comprehend reality, Ashley gave up trying to talk. She grabbed the pills off the coffee table and walked to the kitchen. With one quick motion she dumped the pills into the garbage disposal, and flicked the switch. The loud grinding muffled the cries of her mother as she cursed Ashley from the couch.
“Yew bitch…I needs those….I FAHKIN NEED THOSE! Whattin da fahk is yer fahkin problem?”
Ignoring her mother’s angry, incoherent shouts, Ashley walked to her brother’s room. She picked up young, innocent Joey, and held him close to her chest as she walked to her room. Joey had stopped crying, but his body was tense with the shouts of his mother coming from the living room.
“It’s okay, Joey. I’ve got you,” Ashley whispered as she locked the door behind her.
She gently tucked Joey into her twin sized bed, and crawled in beside him. Joey began to whimper again, as their mother’s shouts grew louder. Ashley suddenly remembered the nights when she was young, and couldn’t sleep after a horrible nightmare. Her father would always tuck her into bed, and place headphones attached to a CD player on her night stand over her ears. He would kiss her forehead and press play. Light sounds of beautiful classical music would fill her ears, and without a thought to the monster under her bed, she’d always drift into a restful sleep.
Ashley pulled out her MP3 player and placed the headphones over Joey’s ears. She kissed his forehead lightly and pressed play, and immediately his body relaxed. Ashley drifted into a heavy sleep to the light sound of classical music, escaping from Joey’s ears.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Saved (2)-Altered and Extended Version [short story]
It was 3 a.m. and the streets were ghostly vacant, except for a few homeless people huddled under blankets in attempt to block out the cold fall wind. I pulled my jacket closer to my body and shivered, suddenly cold from the steady wind blowing against my frail body. I enjoyed the cold. The coolness on my skin and feeling my muscle contract in attempts to keep warm was the only thing that could keep my mind from racing, even if just for a moment.
It was late (or should I say early?) and I was walking the city streets aimlessly, with no known destination and not a care for my own safety. I had been walking for what seemed like days, but in reality it had only been an hour since I left the warm apartment in attempts to escape her shouts, but even though they were miles behind me and shielded by closed doors, I could still hear every word she said echoing in my head.
“Worthless! You’re worthless! All you do is eat all my food in my goddamn apartment and then hide in the bathroom puking it back up. You’re disgusting and worthless. You’re lucky to have me, no one else would put up with your shit!”
I began to feel dizzy as I replayed her words over and over in my mind. Worthless. Disgusting. Worthless. Disgusting. Suddenly I could feel a sweat break out on my forehead, despite the cool breeze, and I began to feel nauseous. My stomach began to twist and turn, pushing bile up my throat. I ran into a nearby alley and let my insides escape out of my mouth. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as what seemed like a mixture of coffee and blood surged out of my stomach and splashed on the pavement. There was no solid food to be found in my regurgitation, for I had forbidden myself from my disgusting habit of eating her food and purging every bit of it into her white porcelain toilet. In attempts to punish myself for my worthless, disgusting habits I vowed to ingest nothing but coffee and water. The blood, however, did not worry me. The first time I noticed blood in my vomit, I had panicked and told her I thought I was dying. She had slapped me, called me a moron, and refused to take me to a doctor. Eventually, the sight of blood didn’t faze me. In fact, I had convinced myself that everybody pukes up blood, that I was completely normal.
However, in the back of my mind, I knew my body was slowly breaking down. My hair was thinning and my entire body aching. I was constantly throwing up, even when it wasn’t intentional, and my throat was red and sore all of the time. I used to have a bright white smile, but my teeth were slowly decaying and had recently turned a bright yellow hue from a mixture of coffee, and stomach acid. My bones jutted out at awkward angles in my short five foot, two inch, 85 pound skeletal frame. I was one giant bruise, from her constant “love taps” and angry shoves.
I finally wiped the remains of vomit off my lips on to my coat sleeve, and shoved my hands in my pocket as I left the alley, my heart cold and my stomach empty. I began to walk down the dimly lit sidewalk of the city in a daze. I had no place to go. No one to call. After the fall out with my family, I had moved in with her in the city. Eventually, however, things turned from bad to worse. At first it was just hurtful words, but it soon escalated into hostile shoves and angry slaps across the face. I stayed around because if I didn’t have her, I didn’t have anyone. My family disapproved of my “lifestyle choice” as they called it, as if it was a choice I made just to piss them off. I had come out to them senior year and they insisted on bringing me to a priest, a shrink, an exorcist…anyone who they thought may be able to “cure” me. When they caught me making out with a girl (whom I had said was just a friend) in my bedroom, they realized there was no hope. They sat me down and told me that while I lived in their home I was not allowed to date any girls. That’s when I met her. Nikki. She was everything I wasn’t: strong, confident, beautiful, and free. She was older, and already had her own place in the city which I snuck off too whenever I could. The day after I graduated high school I packed my things and moved into the city with Nikki. That’s when I began using food as a means of control. That’s when my life became meaningless, and empty.
All I have is her.
With a bone rattling sigh, I finally decided it was about time I headed back to the apartment before I passed out in the dirty sidewalk. As I walked back to both a place of comfort and anger, I began to hope that she would be passed out on the couch when I returned to the apartment.
I rode the elevator to the third story of the rundown apartment building, feeling nothing but a sharp pain in my abdomen. My mind was blank as I walked to her apartment door, and quietly unlocked it with my set of keys. I opened the door slowly and crept into the dark apartment, praying I would not have to face her again before getting at least a few hours of sleep. I took my jacket off and threw it on the couch and peered down the short hallway at the bedroom door. A bright light was glowing from within the bedroom and I could hear her crying, a soft, muffled sadness. I suddenly forgot her harsh words and all my anger towards her dissipated as I headed towards the bedroom prepared to comfort her, and kiss away her tears. I slowly opened the bed room door, and squinted my eyes in the bright light. She sat slumped on the side of the bed staring out the window into the dark, vacant night. She turned her head to look at me, tears and mascara running down her pale white cheeks.
“Ellie…” she said softly, sniffing back tears.
“What’s wrong, Nik? What happened?” I replied as she got up and slowly walked towards me.
Without a word, she put her strong arms around my waist and pulled me close, embracing me tightly as tears streamed down her face.
“I’m sorry Ellie. I’m so sorry. I love you. You know that don’t you? I love you, I really do,” she whispered lightly in my ear.
“I know Nik. I know you do. I love you too. It’s okay, calm down,” I reassured her, kissing the salty tears on her cheek.
She pulled away and looked deep into my eyes. I felt weak from her strong stare, and tried my hardest not to look away, but I felt if I didn’t my knees would buckle and I would fall to the floor. She smiled her warm friendly smile that made it impossible to not forgive her for her harsh words and angry outbursts. “I didn’t mean what I said, baby,” she said, finally looking away and staring, sadly, at the floor. “I thought you left for good.”
I deserved it. “I know you didn’t. I just needed to cool off, so I went for a walk. I’d never leave you, Nikki. I couldn’t…”
She pulled me close and I had to stand on my toes to kiss her lips. Her strong, lean body pressed against my weak bony one as we kissed passionately in the bedroom doorway. Suddenly, I could feel my heart melt. She was everything to me, despite her angry words. Maybe I deserved being pushed and shoved. Maybe I really was worthless and good for nothing. I was definitely lucky to have found a girl like her, because despite all my imperfections, she still loved me. And I loved her.
A few sleepless hours later, I rolled out of the bed slowly, careful not to wake Nikki from her quiet slumber. The room was filled with rays of sunshine, but I felt anything but warm as I made my way to the kitchen. I could feel my stomach aching and growling, demanding nourishment. But I ignored it.
Disgusting. Worthless. Disgusting…
I turned on the coffee machine and sat down at the old wooden kitchen table. I tried my hardest to avoid staring at the white cabinets, knowing that an array of food lay behind the closed doors. My stomach lurched and gurgled, as I winced in pain.
No. No food. You don’t deserve food. All you’ll do is puke it up anyway.
The scent of coffee filled my nostrils, and my tense muscles began to relax at the comforting smell. I got a mug and poured myself a cup, added sugar and cream, then sat back down at the table. I tried to focus my attention on a fashion magazine, but my mind began to wander and I found myself dazing out the window, thinking of nothing but food.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Nikki said cheerily as she entered the kitchen. Her baggy pajama bottoms hung off her tiny hips and she had to hold them up as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee.
“Morning. You sleep okay?” I said, with a half-hearted smile.
“Sure did. Slept like a baby. How about you?”
“I’ve had better nights,” I replied.
“Nothing a few cups of coffee and chocolate chip pancakes can’t fix!” Nikki said with a smile. Her face lit up at the idea, and I could feel my own heart sink.
“I’ll just stick with the coffee.”
Nikki frowned as she pulled the pancake mix out of the cabinet. “But you love chocolate chip pancakes. I’ve seen you devour a whole stack of them in minutes. Plus, I make the best pancakes. Better than IHOP.”
My stomach suddenly growled a long, loud growl and Nikki stopped preparing the pancake mix and turned around to glare at me. I could feel my face turned red as her eyebrows furrowed in anger.
“You’re eating pancakes,” she said angrily and she turned her back to me as she continued to prepare breakfast.
A wave of anxiety ran through my body, and I wanted to leave the apartment right at that moment. But I sat in my chair, with legs bouncing up and down, not saying one word because I knew arguing would only make the situation worse.
Maybe just one…or two…or…five.
The smell of the pancakes as they sizzled in the pan was agonizing, as though someone was punching me in my abdomen repeatedly. My mouth watered to the point that I had to start chugging my coffee to keep myself from drooling. Hoping to satisfy my stomach in the process, I got up to pour myself another big cup of coffee. Lots of cream and lots of sugar.
Nikki grabbed my waist and began to squeeze. I suppose in normal relationships this is a loving embrace, but to my body it felt like complete torture. All I could think about was the disgusting purple bruise it was going to leave on my sides…
“You know babe…” Nikki whispered in my ear. “The way you make your coffee, it’s probably more fattening than these pancakes. Why don’t you drink it black?”
“I don’t like it black…”
“Well, it’s my cream and it’s my sugar. Buy your own and you can have some,” she growled as she ripped the carton of cream out of my hands. “And don’t talk to me with such sarcasm, for fucks sake. I’m just trying to help you.”
She moved away from me, with a look of pure disgust on her face as she continued to cook our breakfast. I kept my eyes down, afraid to move, afraid to breath. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so hard I was afraid if I moved even slightly I’d set off a heart attack. She’s just trying to help. She loves me…she’s right. I finally let myself breathe as I picked up my mug filled with black coffee, and sat at the kitchen table. One sip and I knew that this was going to take some getting used to, but I sucked it down like cold medicine.
“Now, how many pancakes you want, El?”
“Oh. Um. I don’t know. One is fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You’ll have to have at least two!”
Nikki plopped a plate with three large, golden brown, chocolate chip speckled pancakes in front of me on the small round kitchen table. She smiled proudly as she sat down beside me with her own stack in one hand and syrup in the other. She lathered on a thick gooey layer of syrup to her own stack before adding even more to mine. I watched in panic as the thick syrup dripped slowly down each pancake.
“Eat up,” she said, more as an order than anything else.
I sat motionless, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh pancakes and begging my body to behave. My stomach growled at me ferociously, yearning to devour every last morsel, and then some. I began to shake with anxiety as I picked up my fork and knife, which both felt as though they weighed 100 pounds. Still shaking, I cut a sliver of one of the pancakes and slowly brought it to my mouth. By this time I was drooling and my heart was beating out of my paper thin skin barely covering my ribcage. I inhaled deep and finally allowed myself to put the sliver of warm, fluffy, chocolatey pancake in my mouth. Bad idea. My body rebelled against starvation, and before I knew what was happening I was devouring the pancakes without even taking a moment to breath.
3 pancakes, gone. Not enough. My mouth was still filled with saliva. My stomach still screaming for more sweet nourishment.
“I knew you were hungry. There’s still more left if you want, El. I’m already getting full,” Nikki remarked when she noticed my spotless plate. Nikki still had a pancake and a half left on her own plate.
No. Have some self-control. Especially in front of Nik…she leaves for work soon…
“Oh no, I’m full. That was delicious though, babe. Thank you,” I replied forcing a smiling. I leaned in to give her a kiss but she shook her head and got out of her seat. I sunk back and watched her walk to the sink and out of the kitchen without a word. My heart ached. So did my stomach.
When Nikki was no longer in the room, my eyes wandered to the extra stack of pancakes on the counter. I began to feel panic growing inside me, anxious to eat not only the remaining pancakes, but the jar of peanut butter in the cabinet above it, and the entire bag of potato chips resting above the refrigerator, and the Oreos Nikki kept hidden in the bedroom closet (hidden from me, and the monster that seemed to live inside of my stomach). I yearned for fast food, and lots of it. Maybe five cheeseburgers and some fries, the saltier the better. Perhaps a large strawberry shake…or two. My mind was racing, imagining all the food I wanted to shove into my mouth, tasting every last bit of salty sweet goodness on my tongue.
Nikki came back into the kitchen, dressed in a loose fitting blouse, and a tight black skirt that drove me (and probably all the guys on the street) absolutely insane. Her intense, intimidating beauty broke me from my food trance immediately. I admired her from the table, her strong legs enhance by the black heels she wore, her dark hair was pulled back loosely, with wavy strands surrounding her beautifully full, healthy face. I only stopped gawking when I finally looked into her dark eyes and noticed she was not amused. I looked away immediately and examined my now empty coffee mug as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“I’m leaving for work, Ellie. You know the deal,” Nikki said sternly, more like a mother giving orders to her young daughter than a woman to her lover.
I nodded, but didn’t speak. The deal was… I was supposed to stay in control while she was gone. The deal was…NOT emptying her cabinets into the angry pit of my stomach. The deal was…no vomiting in her clean white porcelain toilet. That was the deal.
Nikki clinked over in her high heels and leaned in and kissed the top of my head. “And please shower. Seriously.You smell like vomit. It’s disgusting. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” And with that, she swung around, her hair smacking my face lightly, and headed for the apartment door. I sat silent and motionless, listening intently as she shut the door, and clanked down the hallway. When I finally realized I could not hear her heals against the tiled floor of the hallway any longer, I was finally able to get out of my seat. That’s when the chaos began.
I don’t know if it was out of spite, or anger, or simply the fact that I had been starving myself for weeks and my body was just hungry, but I didn’t think twice about “the deal” once Nikki left the apartment. I swept through the kitchen like a tornado, devouring almost everything in sight, and chugging water as I did so. I devoured the (now cold) leftover pancakes first in a matter of seconds, and before I even took the last bite, I already had the peanut butter jar in my other hand. I grabbed a spoon and scooped out spoonfuls into my salivating mouth. Delicious. Salty, sweet, smooth. I couldn’t get enough.
I speed-walked to the bedroom to grab the Oreos that Nikki had so cleverly hidden from me. I began dunking each Oreo into the peanut butter jar and shoving them in my mouth, barely chewing. You’d think after I finished all the Oreos and licked the PB jar clean I’d be way too full to continue this insanity. You’d think wrong. My stomach only seemed to get hungrier, and angrier. The only way to calm all the emotion, anger, hatred, and stress running through my body was to feed it. Feed the fire in the pit of my stomach. I kept it burning through a full bag of chips, and a liter bottle of diet Coke. I kept it going with left over Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked pint in the freezer. I kept it going until I realized I was running out of food, and the only sane solution was to get dressed and get to the nearest McDonalds, pronto.
I grabbed money out of Nikki’s underwear drawer, and threw on an oversized sweatshirt. My mind was buzzing around my skull, unable to rest for even a moment of peace. I shoved my foot into my sneakers, and quickly left the apartment. As soon as I got outside, I pulled the hood over my head, concealing the monster I had become. I walked briskly to the nearest McDonalds, ordered 4 double cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, and 3 apple pies, and nearly bolted out the door with the greasy food in hand. My stomach ached as the scent of salty fries and greasy burgers reached my nose. I moved quickly without any thought or emotion, all I felt was hunger.
I had barely closed the apartment door behind me when I reached into the bag for the first greasy burger. I inhaled the burgers, plowed through the salty fries, and devoured the apple pies. As I took the last bite of my 3rd warm apple pie, my stomach twisted within my abdomen. I sat for a moment, immediately aware of what I had just done, and how truly disgusting I felt.
What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a fucking disgusting pig. You can’t even control you’re fat ass from eating everything in your sight. You are pitiful. Putrid. Worthless.
I moaned in pain as the ache of my over-stuffed stomach became more ruthless. I crawled slowly to the bathroom and kneeled in front of the clean white porcelain. I knew what had to be done. In one quick motion every last bit of fast food I had ingested spewed out of my mouth. I tickled the back of my throat with my index finger in an attempt to get every last piece of pie, burger, fries, peanut butter, ice cream, Oreos, and pancakes out of my stomach. Eventually I was gagging but nothing would come out. Still feeling bloated and guilty, I began pounding my fists into my abdomen in rage. Nothing. Tears began pouring down my face as I sat against the wall, exhausted and defeated.
Disgusting. Worthless.
That was the last thing I remembered before Nikki’s jarring scream woke me into an immediate state of panic. The fuzziness of what had happened quickly faded as I recognized the bitter taste on my tongue. Vomit. I glanced at the toilet which was still cover in chunks of undigested junk food. I hadn’t even flushed before passing out against the wall, and now the filth had begun to dry onto the white toilet bowl.
Fuck.
I jumped to my feet and had to steady myself against the wall to keep from falling back on my ass. My sight went blurry and the room began to spin ever so slightly as I felt my way to the door. I slammed it shut and locked it just as Nikki’s yells inched closer. I blocked them out as best I could as I began searching for something to clean the toilet bowl.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?! YOU DUMB, FILTHY, BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?! OH MY GOD! YOU ARE DISGUSTING!” Nikki shouted with rage from outside the bathroom door.
It was becoming more and more harsh, and harder to ignore. I flushed the toilet and hoped for the best as Nikki began pounding her fists into the bathroom door. It rattled at the hinges and I winced, sure that the wood was about to splinter into tiny pieces. I sat back down on the tiled bathroom floor, and curled my legs into the fetal position. Fear was surging through my body, making each muscle throb with tension. I didn’t know what to do. I was sure she would get through that door, and I was terrified of what she’d do to me when she did. I dug my nails in my arms in a last attempt to find relief, but there was none.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BATHROOM YOU FAT CUNT! STOP FUCKING PUKING LIKE A LOW LIFE PIECE OF SHIT AND FACE ME! YOU ATE ALL MY FUCKING FOOD AND NOW YOU’RE THROWING IT UP INTO MY FUCKING CLEAN TOILET….YOU DISGUST ME. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” She continued to slam her fists into the door, each pound against the wood sounding more pissed off.
Eventually she began to quiet down, which made me even more nervous. I listened closely to her body moving outside the door, unsure of what she was planning. I pushed myself slowly to my feet and inched towards the door. Before I could even realize what was happening, the thick door swung open making full contact with my face. I was knocked backwards by the force, stumbling to keep my balance. Nikki grabbed me by my knotted hair and dragged me out of the bathroom as I yelled and writhed in pain. She pulled me into the living room and kicked me as hard as she could in the ribcage as a warning to silence my screams.
“Shut up, you dumb bitch,” she growled.
I moaned in pain, much quieter now because I knew that the more noise I made, the more pain she’d inflict on me. Tears began pouring down my face as I stared up at her and began to beg for forgiveness.
“Please. Don’t. Please…I’m sorry, Nik….I…lost control…I didn’t mean too…”
“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP! I don’t want to hear you’re sorry excuses anymore. YOU DISGUST ME!” she hollered with another swift kick to my ribcage.
I yelped and curled into a ball to protect myself from future blows to the ribs. I began to sob into my knees, the pain, both emotional and physical, was too much to take. I began to shake as I quietly whispered for Nikki’s mercy.
She laughed, an angry brutal laugh. “You’re so pitiful. Get up.”
I didn’t move. I lay frozen in a ball on the living room floor.
“I SAID GET THE FUCK UP! NOW!”
Realizing her foot was getting ready for another bone-breaking kick; I quickly unfurled myself and began to stand. The pain radiating from my chest was almost unbearable as I made my way to a full standing position. Nikki was in front of me, her hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. She glared at me with dark eyes filled with disgust and rage, her eyebrows furrowed with her forehead in a mess of angry lines. I gulped air into my lungs, which took much more effort than usual, and stared at the floor.
“Nikki I…” I began to mumble.
“Get out. GET OUT BEFORE I FUCKING KILL YOU!”
A chill ran up my spine at the sound of honesty in her words. She meant it; she was going to kill me if I didn’t leave right now. I grabbed my coat off the chair beside me and hobbled to the front door, grasping my side as I walked.
“I don’t ever want to see you again. Once you walk out that door, don’t ever fucking come back, you goddamn filthy pig,” Nikki warned me, with no sign of any emotion other than pure hatred in her voice and demeanor.
I grabbed the door knob, trying desperately to sniff back heavy tears. Without turning to face her I whimpered softly, “I thought you loved me…”
“How could ANYONE love YOU?” she replied with an angry snarl. Her last venomous bite.
And that was it. I left the apartment with nothing but the vomit covered clothes I wore, my coat, my useless cell phone, and a few broken ribs. I held my ribcage as I walked aimlessly around the city, feeling nothing, not even the physical pain. Tears streamed down my face, but I barely noticed as the wind dried them in their tracks along my bony cheeks. I fumbled with my phone, aching to call home, but knowing deep down that I no longer had a home. I no longer had anything.
I walked for hours, until darkness took over the city streets. Without a thought for my well being, I turned sharply into the pitch black alley which I had regurgitated in the previous night. My stomach muscles clenched tight in an attempt to fight back nausea, and my head began to spin as I put my forehead against the cool brick of the building. Every single emotion came flooding through my body, ripping me apart like multiple bullet wounds. I let out a pain-filled howl as I convulsed in deep sobs against the brick wall. With each deep inhalation, a ferocious pain shot from my ribcage to the rest of my body, until the pain became unbearable and I howled loudly once again. People passed by the alley without a second glance. No one cared enough to investigate the horrible howling. No one care at all. No one. It was right then, at that moment in the darkness of the dirty alley, I realized that she was gone, and there was no one left. I was weak, both physically and mentally, and now I was alone. Life had become a meaningless painful event, and I wanted out.
I pulled my face from the brick wall and left the alley way in silence. I continued walking, listening to the crunch of fall leaves beneath my feet. I wasn’t quite sure where I was going, but I knew in the back of my mind what I was about to do. There was nothing left for me here.
She was right…I am worthless. Disgusting. Filthy. Worthless…
I moved briskly, keeping my eyes focused straight ahead of me, nearly forgetting the pain radiating from my chest. I wandered my way through the streets, shivering, this time out of excitement. As I walked through a nearby park I noticed a woman curled up under bits of cloth and newspaper, shaking and moaning in the cold moonlight. I stopped for a moment, unzipped my warm coat, and laid it over her shivering body. She stopped shivering, and began to snore lightly.
Enjoy the warmth while you can have it. I won’t be needing it.
I continued walking towards a bridge which loomed over dark water. The sound of the water hitting against rocks and speeding down stream in a fast current gave my skin goose bumps. I stood silent on the bridge, looking up at the dark, starless sky. I felt a tear drip down my cheek, but I didn’t feel sad. I felt relieved, numb to my normally aching body, vacant of all thought.
I climbed on the ledge of the bridge, but I didn’t look down at the water. Instead I stared straight ahead into an abyss of darkness and lost hopes. The night breeze brushed softly against my cheek, like a cool hand of death, beckoning me.
“Goodbye,” I whispered, and took in a deep breath.
Suddenly, I felt my pocket vibrating. It was as if my mind had been dragged out of a horrible dream and back into consciousness. I began to shake as I reached for my cell phone. To my disbelief, the caller ID flashed one comforting word: HOME.
Shaky and nauseous, I made my way off the ledge of the bridge. I could feel hot tears stream down my face as I flipped open the phone.
I sobbed into the phone, unable to control the sudden rush of emotion. Every muscle in my body ached, and I found myself paralyzed on the cold ground.
“Oh no. What happened? Are you OK?” I heard my mother’s voice ask in fear.
“Mommy…” I squeaked out between heavy sobs. “Mommy. Come get me. I’m cold.”
It was late (or should I say early?) and I was walking the city streets aimlessly, with no known destination and not a care for my own safety. I had been walking for what seemed like days, but in reality it had only been an hour since I left the warm apartment in attempts to escape her shouts, but even though they were miles behind me and shielded by closed doors, I could still hear every word she said echoing in my head.
“Worthless! You’re worthless! All you do is eat all my food in my goddamn apartment and then hide in the bathroom puking it back up. You’re disgusting and worthless. You’re lucky to have me, no one else would put up with your shit!”
I began to feel dizzy as I replayed her words over and over in my mind. Worthless. Disgusting. Worthless. Disgusting. Suddenly I could feel a sweat break out on my forehead, despite the cool breeze, and I began to feel nauseous. My stomach began to twist and turn, pushing bile up my throat. I ran into a nearby alley and let my insides escape out of my mouth. Tears began to roll down my cheeks as what seemed like a mixture of coffee and blood surged out of my stomach and splashed on the pavement. There was no solid food to be found in my regurgitation, for I had forbidden myself from my disgusting habit of eating her food and purging every bit of it into her white porcelain toilet. In attempts to punish myself for my worthless, disgusting habits I vowed to ingest nothing but coffee and water. The blood, however, did not worry me. The first time I noticed blood in my vomit, I had panicked and told her I thought I was dying. She had slapped me, called me a moron, and refused to take me to a doctor. Eventually, the sight of blood didn’t faze me. In fact, I had convinced myself that everybody pukes up blood, that I was completely normal.
However, in the back of my mind, I knew my body was slowly breaking down. My hair was thinning and my entire body aching. I was constantly throwing up, even when it wasn’t intentional, and my throat was red and sore all of the time. I used to have a bright white smile, but my teeth were slowly decaying and had recently turned a bright yellow hue from a mixture of coffee, and stomach acid. My bones jutted out at awkward angles in my short five foot, two inch, 85 pound skeletal frame. I was one giant bruise, from her constant “love taps” and angry shoves.
I finally wiped the remains of vomit off my lips on to my coat sleeve, and shoved my hands in my pocket as I left the alley, my heart cold and my stomach empty. I began to walk down the dimly lit sidewalk of the city in a daze. I had no place to go. No one to call. After the fall out with my family, I had moved in with her in the city. Eventually, however, things turned from bad to worse. At first it was just hurtful words, but it soon escalated into hostile shoves and angry slaps across the face. I stayed around because if I didn’t have her, I didn’t have anyone. My family disapproved of my “lifestyle choice” as they called it, as if it was a choice I made just to piss them off. I had come out to them senior year and they insisted on bringing me to a priest, a shrink, an exorcist…anyone who they thought may be able to “cure” me. When they caught me making out with a girl (whom I had said was just a friend) in my bedroom, they realized there was no hope. They sat me down and told me that while I lived in their home I was not allowed to date any girls. That’s when I met her. Nikki. She was everything I wasn’t: strong, confident, beautiful, and free. She was older, and already had her own place in the city which I snuck off too whenever I could. The day after I graduated high school I packed my things and moved into the city with Nikki. That’s when I began using food as a means of control. That’s when my life became meaningless, and empty.
All I have is her.
With a bone rattling sigh, I finally decided it was about time I headed back to the apartment before I passed out in the dirty sidewalk. As I walked back to both a place of comfort and anger, I began to hope that she would be passed out on the couch when I returned to the apartment.
I rode the elevator to the third story of the rundown apartment building, feeling nothing but a sharp pain in my abdomen. My mind was blank as I walked to her apartment door, and quietly unlocked it with my set of keys. I opened the door slowly and crept into the dark apartment, praying I would not have to face her again before getting at least a few hours of sleep. I took my jacket off and threw it on the couch and peered down the short hallway at the bedroom door. A bright light was glowing from within the bedroom and I could hear her crying, a soft, muffled sadness. I suddenly forgot her harsh words and all my anger towards her dissipated as I headed towards the bedroom prepared to comfort her, and kiss away her tears. I slowly opened the bed room door, and squinted my eyes in the bright light. She sat slumped on the side of the bed staring out the window into the dark, vacant night. She turned her head to look at me, tears and mascara running down her pale white cheeks.
“Ellie…” she said softly, sniffing back tears.
“What’s wrong, Nik? What happened?” I replied as she got up and slowly walked towards me.
Without a word, she put her strong arms around my waist and pulled me close, embracing me tightly as tears streamed down her face.
“I’m sorry Ellie. I’m so sorry. I love you. You know that don’t you? I love you, I really do,” she whispered lightly in my ear.
“I know Nik. I know you do. I love you too. It’s okay, calm down,” I reassured her, kissing the salty tears on her cheek.
She pulled away and looked deep into my eyes. I felt weak from her strong stare, and tried my hardest not to look away, but I felt if I didn’t my knees would buckle and I would fall to the floor. She smiled her warm friendly smile that made it impossible to not forgive her for her harsh words and angry outbursts. “I didn’t mean what I said, baby,” she said, finally looking away and staring, sadly, at the floor. “I thought you left for good.”
I deserved it. “I know you didn’t. I just needed to cool off, so I went for a walk. I’d never leave you, Nikki. I couldn’t…”
She pulled me close and I had to stand on my toes to kiss her lips. Her strong, lean body pressed against my weak bony one as we kissed passionately in the bedroom doorway. Suddenly, I could feel my heart melt. She was everything to me, despite her angry words. Maybe I deserved being pushed and shoved. Maybe I really was worthless and good for nothing. I was definitely lucky to have found a girl like her, because despite all my imperfections, she still loved me. And I loved her.
A few sleepless hours later, I rolled out of the bed slowly, careful not to wake Nikki from her quiet slumber. The room was filled with rays of sunshine, but I felt anything but warm as I made my way to the kitchen. I could feel my stomach aching and growling, demanding nourishment. But I ignored it.
Disgusting. Worthless. Disgusting…
I turned on the coffee machine and sat down at the old wooden kitchen table. I tried my hardest to avoid staring at the white cabinets, knowing that an array of food lay behind the closed doors. My stomach lurched and gurgled, as I winced in pain.
No. No food. You don’t deserve food. All you’ll do is puke it up anyway.
The scent of coffee filled my nostrils, and my tense muscles began to relax at the comforting smell. I got a mug and poured myself a cup, added sugar and cream, then sat back down at the table. I tried to focus my attention on a fashion magazine, but my mind began to wander and I found myself dazing out the window, thinking of nothing but food.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Nikki said cheerily as she entered the kitchen. Her baggy pajama bottoms hung off her tiny hips and she had to hold them up as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee.
“Morning. You sleep okay?” I said, with a half-hearted smile.
“Sure did. Slept like a baby. How about you?”
“I’ve had better nights,” I replied.
“Nothing a few cups of coffee and chocolate chip pancakes can’t fix!” Nikki said with a smile. Her face lit up at the idea, and I could feel my own heart sink.
“I’ll just stick with the coffee.”
Nikki frowned as she pulled the pancake mix out of the cabinet. “But you love chocolate chip pancakes. I’ve seen you devour a whole stack of them in minutes. Plus, I make the best pancakes. Better than IHOP.”
My stomach suddenly growled a long, loud growl and Nikki stopped preparing the pancake mix and turned around to glare at me. I could feel my face turned red as her eyebrows furrowed in anger.
“You’re eating pancakes,” she said angrily and she turned her back to me as she continued to prepare breakfast.
A wave of anxiety ran through my body, and I wanted to leave the apartment right at that moment. But I sat in my chair, with legs bouncing up and down, not saying one word because I knew arguing would only make the situation worse.
Maybe just one…or two…or…five.
The smell of the pancakes as they sizzled in the pan was agonizing, as though someone was punching me in my abdomen repeatedly. My mouth watered to the point that I had to start chugging my coffee to keep myself from drooling. Hoping to satisfy my stomach in the process, I got up to pour myself another big cup of coffee. Lots of cream and lots of sugar.
Nikki grabbed my waist and began to squeeze. I suppose in normal relationships this is a loving embrace, but to my body it felt like complete torture. All I could think about was the disgusting purple bruise it was going to leave on my sides…
“You know babe…” Nikki whispered in my ear. “The way you make your coffee, it’s probably more fattening than these pancakes. Why don’t you drink it black?”
“I don’t like it black…”
“Well, it’s my cream and it’s my sugar. Buy your own and you can have some,” she growled as she ripped the carton of cream out of my hands. “And don’t talk to me with such sarcasm, for fucks sake. I’m just trying to help you.”
She moved away from me, with a look of pure disgust on her face as she continued to cook our breakfast. I kept my eyes down, afraid to move, afraid to breath. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so hard I was afraid if I moved even slightly I’d set off a heart attack. She’s just trying to help. She loves me…she’s right. I finally let myself breathe as I picked up my mug filled with black coffee, and sat at the kitchen table. One sip and I knew that this was going to take some getting used to, but I sucked it down like cold medicine.
“Now, how many pancakes you want, El?”
“Oh. Um. I don’t know. One is fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You’ll have to have at least two!”
Nikki plopped a plate with three large, golden brown, chocolate chip speckled pancakes in front of me on the small round kitchen table. She smiled proudly as she sat down beside me with her own stack in one hand and syrup in the other. She lathered on a thick gooey layer of syrup to her own stack before adding even more to mine. I watched in panic as the thick syrup dripped slowly down each pancake.
“Eat up,” she said, more as an order than anything else.
I sat motionless, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh pancakes and begging my body to behave. My stomach growled at me ferociously, yearning to devour every last morsel, and then some. I began to shake with anxiety as I picked up my fork and knife, which both felt as though they weighed 100 pounds. Still shaking, I cut a sliver of one of the pancakes and slowly brought it to my mouth. By this time I was drooling and my heart was beating out of my paper thin skin barely covering my ribcage. I inhaled deep and finally allowed myself to put the sliver of warm, fluffy, chocolatey pancake in my mouth. Bad idea. My body rebelled against starvation, and before I knew what was happening I was devouring the pancakes without even taking a moment to breath.
3 pancakes, gone. Not enough. My mouth was still filled with saliva. My stomach still screaming for more sweet nourishment.
“I knew you were hungry. There’s still more left if you want, El. I’m already getting full,” Nikki remarked when she noticed my spotless plate. Nikki still had a pancake and a half left on her own plate.
No. Have some self-control. Especially in front of Nik…she leaves for work soon…
“Oh no, I’m full. That was delicious though, babe. Thank you,” I replied forcing a smiling. I leaned in to give her a kiss but she shook her head and got out of her seat. I sunk back and watched her walk to the sink and out of the kitchen without a word. My heart ached. So did my stomach.
When Nikki was no longer in the room, my eyes wandered to the extra stack of pancakes on the counter. I began to feel panic growing inside me, anxious to eat not only the remaining pancakes, but the jar of peanut butter in the cabinet above it, and the entire bag of potato chips resting above the refrigerator, and the Oreos Nikki kept hidden in the bedroom closet (hidden from me, and the monster that seemed to live inside of my stomach). I yearned for fast food, and lots of it. Maybe five cheeseburgers and some fries, the saltier the better. Perhaps a large strawberry shake…or two. My mind was racing, imagining all the food I wanted to shove into my mouth, tasting every last bit of salty sweet goodness on my tongue.
Nikki came back into the kitchen, dressed in a loose fitting blouse, and a tight black skirt that drove me (and probably all the guys on the street) absolutely insane. Her intense, intimidating beauty broke me from my food trance immediately. I admired her from the table, her strong legs enhance by the black heels she wore, her dark hair was pulled back loosely, with wavy strands surrounding her beautifully full, healthy face. I only stopped gawking when I finally looked into her dark eyes and noticed she was not amused. I looked away immediately and examined my now empty coffee mug as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“I’m leaving for work, Ellie. You know the deal,” Nikki said sternly, more like a mother giving orders to her young daughter than a woman to her lover.
I nodded, but didn’t speak. The deal was… I was supposed to stay in control while she was gone. The deal was…NOT emptying her cabinets into the angry pit of my stomach. The deal was…no vomiting in her clean white porcelain toilet. That was the deal.
Nikki clinked over in her high heels and leaned in and kissed the top of my head. “And please shower. Seriously.You smell like vomit. It’s disgusting. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” And with that, she swung around, her hair smacking my face lightly, and headed for the apartment door. I sat silent and motionless, listening intently as she shut the door, and clanked down the hallway. When I finally realized I could not hear her heals against the tiled floor of the hallway any longer, I was finally able to get out of my seat. That’s when the chaos began.
I don’t know if it was out of spite, or anger, or simply the fact that I had been starving myself for weeks and my body was just hungry, but I didn’t think twice about “the deal” once Nikki left the apartment. I swept through the kitchen like a tornado, devouring almost everything in sight, and chugging water as I did so. I devoured the (now cold) leftover pancakes first in a matter of seconds, and before I even took the last bite, I already had the peanut butter jar in my other hand. I grabbed a spoon and scooped out spoonfuls into my salivating mouth. Delicious. Salty, sweet, smooth. I couldn’t get enough.
I speed-walked to the bedroom to grab the Oreos that Nikki had so cleverly hidden from me. I began dunking each Oreo into the peanut butter jar and shoving them in my mouth, barely chewing. You’d think after I finished all the Oreos and licked the PB jar clean I’d be way too full to continue this insanity. You’d think wrong. My stomach only seemed to get hungrier, and angrier. The only way to calm all the emotion, anger, hatred, and stress running through my body was to feed it. Feed the fire in the pit of my stomach. I kept it burning through a full bag of chips, and a liter bottle of diet Coke. I kept it going with left over Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked pint in the freezer. I kept it going until I realized I was running out of food, and the only sane solution was to get dressed and get to the nearest McDonalds, pronto.
I grabbed money out of Nikki’s underwear drawer, and threw on an oversized sweatshirt. My mind was buzzing around my skull, unable to rest for even a moment of peace. I shoved my foot into my sneakers, and quickly left the apartment. As soon as I got outside, I pulled the hood over my head, concealing the monster I had become. I walked briskly to the nearest McDonalds, ordered 4 double cheeseburgers, two orders of fries, and 3 apple pies, and nearly bolted out the door with the greasy food in hand. My stomach ached as the scent of salty fries and greasy burgers reached my nose. I moved quickly without any thought or emotion, all I felt was hunger.
I had barely closed the apartment door behind me when I reached into the bag for the first greasy burger. I inhaled the burgers, plowed through the salty fries, and devoured the apple pies. As I took the last bite of my 3rd warm apple pie, my stomach twisted within my abdomen. I sat for a moment, immediately aware of what I had just done, and how truly disgusting I felt.
What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a fucking disgusting pig. You can’t even control you’re fat ass from eating everything in your sight. You are pitiful. Putrid. Worthless.
I moaned in pain as the ache of my over-stuffed stomach became more ruthless. I crawled slowly to the bathroom and kneeled in front of the clean white porcelain. I knew what had to be done. In one quick motion every last bit of fast food I had ingested spewed out of my mouth. I tickled the back of my throat with my index finger in an attempt to get every last piece of pie, burger, fries, peanut butter, ice cream, Oreos, and pancakes out of my stomach. Eventually I was gagging but nothing would come out. Still feeling bloated and guilty, I began pounding my fists into my abdomen in rage. Nothing. Tears began pouring down my face as I sat against the wall, exhausted and defeated.
Disgusting. Worthless.
That was the last thing I remembered before Nikki’s jarring scream woke me into an immediate state of panic. The fuzziness of what had happened quickly faded as I recognized the bitter taste on my tongue. Vomit. I glanced at the toilet which was still cover in chunks of undigested junk food. I hadn’t even flushed before passing out against the wall, and now the filth had begun to dry onto the white toilet bowl.
Fuck.
I jumped to my feet and had to steady myself against the wall to keep from falling back on my ass. My sight went blurry and the room began to spin ever so slightly as I felt my way to the door. I slammed it shut and locked it just as Nikki’s yells inched closer. I blocked them out as best I could as I began searching for something to clean the toilet bowl.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?! YOU DUMB, FILTHY, BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?! OH MY GOD! YOU ARE DISGUSTING!” Nikki shouted with rage from outside the bathroom door.
It was becoming more and more harsh, and harder to ignore. I flushed the toilet and hoped for the best as Nikki began pounding her fists into the bathroom door. It rattled at the hinges and I winced, sure that the wood was about to splinter into tiny pieces. I sat back down on the tiled bathroom floor, and curled my legs into the fetal position. Fear was surging through my body, making each muscle throb with tension. I didn’t know what to do. I was sure she would get through that door, and I was terrified of what she’d do to me when she did. I dug my nails in my arms in a last attempt to find relief, but there was none.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BATHROOM YOU FAT CUNT! STOP FUCKING PUKING LIKE A LOW LIFE PIECE OF SHIT AND FACE ME! YOU ATE ALL MY FUCKING FOOD AND NOW YOU’RE THROWING IT UP INTO MY FUCKING CLEAN TOILET….YOU DISGUST ME. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” She continued to slam her fists into the door, each pound against the wood sounding more pissed off.
Eventually she began to quiet down, which made me even more nervous. I listened closely to her body moving outside the door, unsure of what she was planning. I pushed myself slowly to my feet and inched towards the door. Before I could even realize what was happening, the thick door swung open making full contact with my face. I was knocked backwards by the force, stumbling to keep my balance. Nikki grabbed me by my knotted hair and dragged me out of the bathroom as I yelled and writhed in pain. She pulled me into the living room and kicked me as hard as she could in the ribcage as a warning to silence my screams.
“Shut up, you dumb bitch,” she growled.
I moaned in pain, much quieter now because I knew that the more noise I made, the more pain she’d inflict on me. Tears began pouring down my face as I stared up at her and began to beg for forgiveness.
“Please. Don’t. Please…I’m sorry, Nik….I…lost control…I didn’t mean too…”
“I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP! I don’t want to hear you’re sorry excuses anymore. YOU DISGUST ME!” she hollered with another swift kick to my ribcage.
I yelped and curled into a ball to protect myself from future blows to the ribs. I began to sob into my knees, the pain, both emotional and physical, was too much to take. I began to shake as I quietly whispered for Nikki’s mercy.
She laughed, an angry brutal laugh. “You’re so pitiful. Get up.”
I didn’t move. I lay frozen in a ball on the living room floor.
“I SAID GET THE FUCK UP! NOW!”
Realizing her foot was getting ready for another bone-breaking kick; I quickly unfurled myself and began to stand. The pain radiating from my chest was almost unbearable as I made my way to a full standing position. Nikki was in front of me, her hands clenched in tight fists at her sides. She glared at me with dark eyes filled with disgust and rage, her eyebrows furrowed with her forehead in a mess of angry lines. I gulped air into my lungs, which took much more effort than usual, and stared at the floor.
“Nikki I…” I began to mumble.
“Get out. GET OUT BEFORE I FUCKING KILL YOU!”
A chill ran up my spine at the sound of honesty in her words. She meant it; she was going to kill me if I didn’t leave right now. I grabbed my coat off the chair beside me and hobbled to the front door, grasping my side as I walked.
“I don’t ever want to see you again. Once you walk out that door, don’t ever fucking come back, you goddamn filthy pig,” Nikki warned me, with no sign of any emotion other than pure hatred in her voice and demeanor.
I grabbed the door knob, trying desperately to sniff back heavy tears. Without turning to face her I whimpered softly, “I thought you loved me…”
“How could ANYONE love YOU?” she replied with an angry snarl. Her last venomous bite.
And that was it. I left the apartment with nothing but the vomit covered clothes I wore, my coat, my useless cell phone, and a few broken ribs. I held my ribcage as I walked aimlessly around the city, feeling nothing, not even the physical pain. Tears streamed down my face, but I barely noticed as the wind dried them in their tracks along my bony cheeks. I fumbled with my phone, aching to call home, but knowing deep down that I no longer had a home. I no longer had anything.
I walked for hours, until darkness took over the city streets. Without a thought for my well being, I turned sharply into the pitch black alley which I had regurgitated in the previous night. My stomach muscles clenched tight in an attempt to fight back nausea, and my head began to spin as I put my forehead against the cool brick of the building. Every single emotion came flooding through my body, ripping me apart like multiple bullet wounds. I let out a pain-filled howl as I convulsed in deep sobs against the brick wall. With each deep inhalation, a ferocious pain shot from my ribcage to the rest of my body, until the pain became unbearable and I howled loudly once again. People passed by the alley without a second glance. No one cared enough to investigate the horrible howling. No one care at all. No one. It was right then, at that moment in the darkness of the dirty alley, I realized that she was gone, and there was no one left. I was weak, both physically and mentally, and now I was alone. Life had become a meaningless painful event, and I wanted out.
I pulled my face from the brick wall and left the alley way in silence. I continued walking, listening to the crunch of fall leaves beneath my feet. I wasn’t quite sure where I was going, but I knew in the back of my mind what I was about to do. There was nothing left for me here.
She was right…I am worthless. Disgusting. Filthy. Worthless…
I moved briskly, keeping my eyes focused straight ahead of me, nearly forgetting the pain radiating from my chest. I wandered my way through the streets, shivering, this time out of excitement. As I walked through a nearby park I noticed a woman curled up under bits of cloth and newspaper, shaking and moaning in the cold moonlight. I stopped for a moment, unzipped my warm coat, and laid it over her shivering body. She stopped shivering, and began to snore lightly.
Enjoy the warmth while you can have it. I won’t be needing it.
I continued walking towards a bridge which loomed over dark water. The sound of the water hitting against rocks and speeding down stream in a fast current gave my skin goose bumps. I stood silent on the bridge, looking up at the dark, starless sky. I felt a tear drip down my cheek, but I didn’t feel sad. I felt relieved, numb to my normally aching body, vacant of all thought.
I climbed on the ledge of the bridge, but I didn’t look down at the water. Instead I stared straight ahead into an abyss of darkness and lost hopes. The night breeze brushed softly against my cheek, like a cool hand of death, beckoning me.
“Goodbye,” I whispered, and took in a deep breath.
Suddenly, I felt my pocket vibrating. It was as if my mind had been dragged out of a horrible dream and back into consciousness. I began to shake as I reached for my cell phone. To my disbelief, the caller ID flashed one comforting word: HOME.
Shaky and nauseous, I made my way off the ledge of the bridge. I could feel hot tears stream down my face as I flipped open the phone.
I sobbed into the phone, unable to control the sudden rush of emotion. Every muscle in my body ached, and I found myself paralyzed on the cold ground.
“Oh no. What happened? Are you OK?” I heard my mother’s voice ask in fear.
“Mommy…” I squeaked out between heavy sobs. “Mommy. Come get me. I’m cold.”
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Eyes
But when you see her
Eyes
Do you ever wonder
What they’ve
Seen?
Sunsets and burnt bridges,
Demons dressed in white linen.
Has she ever seen
Butterflies escape
The grasp of tiny fists?
Does she know its possible?
The words she wrestles
Aren’t quite what she means
And her voice quivers, quakes.
Rainbows scour the skies
Blues, yellows, violets
Grays, blacks, blood reds.
Does she see it?
Her ears paralyzed by sound,
Lips glued shut,
Eyes
Open wide, vibrant story-filled
Eyes.
Eyes
Do you ever wonder
What they’ve
Seen?
Sunsets and burnt bridges,
Demons dressed in white linen.
Has she ever seen
Butterflies escape
The grasp of tiny fists?
Does she know its possible?
The words she wrestles
Aren’t quite what she means
And her voice quivers, quakes.
Rainbows scour the skies
Blues, yellows, violets
Grays, blacks, blood reds.
Does she see it?
Her ears paralyzed by sound,
Lips glued shut,
Eyes
Open wide, vibrant story-filled
Eyes.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Trophy Scars
Each line tells a story,
A story she would never
Want
Or be able to erase.
The story of a girl
Trying,
With valiant force,
To find her place
In this harrowed world.
This girl knew sometimes
The pain became so
Overwhelming,
And she, so weak,
hopeless,
Needing to feel,
Something, anything,
Other than this inner agony.
And there seemed no other way out.
Finding solace only
In sharp razors,
Box cutters, knives,
Slashing, tearing, ripping skin apart
Red warmth healing all
Emotional wounds.
Many years past,
Many scabs picked
Later,
Now healed,
This broken girl
Now “fixed”,
Carries arms covered
In white lined stories
Of her battles
Won ?
Lost?
Survived.
A story she would never
Want
Or be able to erase.
The story of a girl
Trying,
With valiant force,
To find her place
In this harrowed world.
This girl knew sometimes
The pain became so
Overwhelming,
And she, so weak,
hopeless,
Needing to feel,
Something, anything,
Other than this inner agony.
And there seemed no other way out.
Finding solace only
In sharp razors,
Box cutters, knives,
Slashing, tearing, ripping skin apart
Red warmth healing all
Emotional wounds.
Many years past,
Many scabs picked
Later,
Now healed,
This broken girl
Now “fixed”,
Carries arms covered
In white lined stories
Of her battles
Won ?
Lost?
Survived.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
