Wild Thoughts Burning
The Life That Started Broken Childhood
I’m at school its an ordinary day until I get called to the office. I received a call from our local hospital, the news is bad. The worse kind of news, that my parents have been killed in a car accident. I hit the floor crying like no one was watching but there were little people with the biggest eyes. I’m in 3rd grade so 5 year old look so small to me. I can’t handle what is my life right now. The pain radiating through my body makes me feel like I’m gulfed in flames. I can’t breathe…When suddenly my radio alarm is playing some random channel I have it on. I can get the right station each time, its one from the 70’s. But I’m in my bed being excited about waking up first. The first to wake up in this house means I avoided the hands of my step-father. He’d invade my body every morning, weekends mostly. But I’m only in 3rd grade which means I’m nine, it has been happening for four years now.
I put my feet on the carpet, the trailer kind that is all over the place, dark red. It’s worn it a track through the “house”. I think about the dream I just woke up from, I wish my step-dad was really dead. Mom and I would be able to make it without him. I hear footsteps.
(By the time I turn 11 I would’ve thought about dying and killing myself a million times….)
I think about dying myself to escape this world. I think about it as I swing as high as I can. It’s a wooden base and a store bought swing and bar. I think about flying out of that swing and my neck breaking. I wish I had cancer, so I’d keep the news from everyone and just die. Or I could run away to the mountains and die in the snow. I also think of murder. I’d kill him while he was on top of me rubbing himself on me, through his blue jeans. I’d buy a recorder and just record him talking dirty in my ear, I hated to feel his hot breathe and hearing his deep voice whisper.
I have to keep this secret from everyone, I trust no one–not even myself. He has manipulated me over and over again. I trust the pain and the cold wind on my face. I trust the hot water I used to “boil off his hand prints and semen”. My hands ache and my lips are chapped. My pelvic bone feels bruised. My knees feel like someone took a hammer to them. I hate how he treats me. He laughs at me for not being more experienced and then he’d tell me he was made for me. And I for him.
I felt invisible. I felt worthless and hopeless. I was a prisoner and he controlled me like a god. I believed that he knew everything. He recorded phone conversations for years before I knew. He once gave me a tape of his music and it had some conversations on it also. He would go through my room when I was gone. I had flags on my ceiling, I used to hide notes and journal pages up there. I left my room messy so I’d know, I memorized where everything was. I would check hiding places daily. I hid stuff under my clothes in my dresser. Taped notes under my bed. I thought this would be for the rest of my life, I never seen the tunnel or a light…..