Saturday, March 18, 2006

The Closet

I can feel another little breakdown coming on. I wonder if I am intentionally doing this to myself for some reason. Am I secretly beating myself up and blaming myself for my rape? Is this why I can't get it out of my head? Why do I keep remembering all of these horrible memories? There are too many. I am too young to have this much burning inside of my tired, fragile little heart... this heart that is barely hanging on by a thread... this thread that is about to break any second from the force of my tears rushing past it.

And the tears have started to come. I remember the closet.

My tears are so heavy right now. These words are blurring once again as I am trying to get this out. I can't keep it in anymore. I wish I wasn't alone right now.

The Closet:

I was in high school. My dad was really angry for some reason. He was really drunk... again...

I don't want to tell you this, but I have to. I have to get it out of me. I can't believe this is the only life I have known - this life of always being in constant fear and constant pain... physical, mental & emotional pain.

My dad was really drunk and angry. We were fighting. I wrestled him away from my mom and took it again. We were in the living room.

I can't stop my tears right now. I hate this.

We were in the living room. It was over and he went into the kitchen to refill his Canadian Whiskey and water. My mom was in the living room. I was exhausted and tired. The only thing holding my body together was my skin. My skin was the only thing holding this broken mess inside of me together.

I left the living room, walked down the hall and locked myself in my room. I heard things falling and him yelling again. I heard him yelling through clenched teeth. I knew he had my mom again but I couldn't go out there. I was too tired. I was already too broken. I just stood by my bedroom door and tried to listen through the crack. I grabbed my phone, walked into my closet, closed my closet door and called my brother at his college dorm. I prayed he would answer. His friend answered and handed him the phone.

I said hello and asked what he was doing. He said he was just hanging out with his friends watching a game. He asked what was going on - the usual small talk. I told him nevermind, that I would just talk to him later because it sounded like he was busy. My brother said he wasn't busy doing anything, they were just watching a game. He just started making small talk. I started to cry so hard.

"What's wrong?"

"It's so bad. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared. I don't know what he's going to do."

My tears have started to pour out of me again. Like a waterfall. I have never forgotten this night. It was one of the scariest nights of my life. I am certain my dad doesn't know just how much he has hurt me.

"What do you mean?" my brother asked me. "Where are you? Where's mom? What's going on?"

"I'm hiding in my closet." I am crying so hard that my brother can't understand me. I have to repeat myself over a few times to explain to him where I'm at.

"I'm in my closet. I have my bedroom door locked and my closet doors closed so he can't hear me." I tell my brother where my mom is and what happened that night.

"Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? What did he do to you? Where did he hurt you?" I am still crying so hard that my brother has to calm me down and ask me each question over again, one at a time.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't know. I don't feel good. I hate this. I hate him. It's not fair. I just want it to stop."

"I know you do, sweetie. But you have to tell me if you're hurt. Where are you hurting?"

"I don't know. It's not supposed to be like this... I'm sore. I'm so tired. I'm just sore everywhere." I continued to sob uncontrollably.

"Are you bleeding anywhere? You have to tell me where he hurt you."

"No. I'm not bleeding. My arms and legs are just really tired. I can't move them. I just want to go to sleep."

"Do you want me to come home?" I start to cry even harder because I want him to come home so badly, but know he is too far away. I don't answer. He asks me again.

"Do you want me to come home? Tell me if you want me to come home."

"You can't. You have midterms."

"Fuck my midterms. I'll come home if you want me to."

"Yeah. I want you to come home. You have to. I can't do this. Please come home fast." I am crying so hard that I can hardly hold my head up while talking to him.

"Okay. It's okay, baby. It's going to be okay. But you have to listen to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I have my keys in my hand. I'm just going to grab my backpack and I'm coming home, okay? I'll be home in an hour."

"Okay. I'm so tired. Just come home."

"It's going to be okay, sweetie. Listen to me. He's not going to hurt you, okay? Just stay in your room. I'm on my way. I'll be home in an hour. Just lay down in your bed if you're tired. Just stay there & close your eyes. Don't open the door. I'm leaving right now. I'm going to hang up now so I can come home."

"Okay. You'll be here in an hour?"

"Yeah. I promise. So I'm going to hang up now."

"Okay."

"Everything's going to be okay. I love you. I'll see you soon. Stay where you are."

"Okay."

My brother did make it home in an hour. He had the most disgusted, angry look on his face when he walked through that front door. He threw his backpack on the ground. He and my dad started to argue. They had a fight. They started to wrestle and my dad started to swing at my brother. But my brother handled himself - he wasn't the drunk one. They continued to fight. My dad crashed through the hallway wall. There was a big hole there afterwards.

I just stood there and watched the whole thing, knowing this was not normal, knowing this was not what other high schoolers were doing at that same time. My dad made a hole in the wall, just like he made a hole in my heart.

I will never forget that night. But now that I have told you, I may not have to remember it anymore.

Dear God,
I beg you to let me sleep tonight. Please. Just let me rest.

2 Comments:

Blogger Michelle said...

That's so wrong.

Please recover...that's the best I can hope for you.

And thanks for your site. I think it will help many people.

3/19/2006 10:41 PM  
Blogger Amet said...

I am so sorry for what's going on , i really feel for you and i wish i can help , please get a grip on youe self and dont lose it , please
if you need anything just let me know , wish i can help you forget about the whole thing ,
god bless you

1/21/2007 7:39 AM  

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