April 11, 2016
I couldn't even say mud swirled around in my iris, that's how dead they looked. The tangles and knots I had woken within my once silky hair, were now gone. My skin paled compared to how it was twenty-five hours ago. The only colour on my face was the dark eye bags under some makeup. Just like the other purple and blue bruises that painted my skin.
I knew I didn't deserve this. I knew that I didn't deserve to wake up with my body aching. Wishing for death to come and take me. Issac has ruined me forever. I know that Issac is a rapist. A person who can't be considered human. A monster who only smiles when others cry. Manipulation had always been dancing around his finger, waiting to be shot at someone. And I happened to be the one who caught his eye.
He told me it was because of what I wore. But I know that every word that comes out of his mouth is full of bullsh-
"Hey, Timberly," a soft voice said from behind me. I turn around to see my mom. "Did you sleep well last night?" Sleep? How could I sleep when screams were coming out of me instead of snores. When I was in a nightmare instead of dreaming of them?
"Of course, mother," I weakly smile. My throat burns as I talk. My room had no trace of last night in it. It's not what I wanted but it's what was needed. "What time did you get home?"
"We got home around twelve," she smiled. I knew she was thinking about last night with a soft smile on her lips. Last night she was out laughing and eating when I was trying not to puke up my dinner. "How was your night?"
"Fine," I say, giving her a tight-lipped smile. "We ordered pizza and just stayed in our rooms all night."
"You two need to start talking more," she frowned. "You both are going to go your separate ways soon and then will look back and miss these times." I would have fallen for the miss and regret facade before but not now. Now, I know what's behind the door with Issac's name on it. And trust me when I say it's nothing but torture.
"I'm getting late for school, mom," I say as I grab my bag and tie my shoes. "Love you, mom." I kiss her cheek, letting my lips linger on her warm skin a little longer. I wanted her to ask me what's wrong. I know that if she tries, she can help me. All you need to do is try. I may not be ready but I need someone who can push me to open up and free myself. From this cage of pain where the bars are made of guilt.
Is that too much to ask? That I don't have to spend three hours cleaning up Issac's mess. Spending my sleeping time rubbing my skin raw. Trying to get his hands off my skin. Trying to forget what that candle smells like. Because now, whenever I smell that smoky burning smell, eat pizza, or look into my mirror, I will always be reminded of how I ruined my future.
I had to clean my room, removing every piece of evidence from that night. How I cleaned every inch of my body until I broke down on my shower floor, crying. Wishing that I had wished for death when I blew out those candles, 192 hours prior.
The pain in my throat is a reminder, the headache is unbearable, the scars on my body signify the guilt, and the ache between my legs is proof that last night did happen. I had read many books, fiction, non-fiction, magazines, historical fiction, and even diaries. But not one had mentioned how to control the pain when you don't know if it's mental or physical. Not one had mentioned how to untangle your thoughts when they get bundled together.
Heading out the door, my legs hurt. Taking in each breath carefully so my throat doesn't burn. Trying not to sweat so my makeup doesn't come off. Practicing my smile so people don't know the sins I have committed. The ball of guilt was sitting on my shoulders, bending my neck. An old thin rag full of tears was hanging above my shoulders, ready to rip open any moment and wash the little girl I was, in dread.
"Tim Tim!" Quinn hollers from the front gate of our school. I put on a smile and slowly move towards them. "How was your weekend?" If only I could tell you, Quinn.
"Decent, the bosses went on a date night so I got to chill in my room," I replied, shrugging. I wanted to cry at how easily each word came out of me. But till I can't fight back properly, fake it till you make it.
"Nice," she smiles. The conversation continues like it always does but I just don't have the energy to join in. I smile and nod when needed to. Gave a surprised look to Zoey when she was forced to go somewhere. When all I wanted to do was scream how lucky they are.
I touch my neck wanting to feel the Aries sign for some relief until I realize that I no longer have it with me. I bring my hand down and internally sigh, wanting to be anywhere but here. Somewhere that I can go and heal until I'm ready to come back. But not run away, no. I won't run away from here cause Zeke won't win.
You're right, Zeke, sometimes karma forgets people, so we have to do it ourselves.
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Tie. Tie. Tie
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