𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

14

elliot carson

Anger is the only emotion that has been a constant in my life. Happiness and sadness come and go as the seasons change but anger, anger is like a shadow, it follows me around no matter how many times I try to shake it off my trail.

Since the age of eight, anger has been my best friend, although it's a complicated relationship we have anger was always there when I needed it the most even if I didn't want it. Anger appeared to protect me and to make sure that I didn't get hurt the same way again. The only problem is that while anger does a great job at protecting me from getting hurt, I can't say the same for those around me.

Last night marked the sixteenth anniversary of the worst day of my life. Sixteen years ago I started my day as a normal eight year old, my mom left me at the park with some friends, since I was planning on sleeping at one of their houses I wasn't going to see her until the next day.

Looking back I wish I never woke up at all that day.

Everything was fine for a couple hours, me and three other boys were playing in the park together happily, that was until a group of men entered the park. My friends ran the second they saw them coming but me, I didn't see them coming until it was too late.

The park was empty by the time they reached me. There were no adults around, no other children, just me and a bunch men who were creeping closer and closer. I don't exactly remember what happened after that, I guess my mind blocked it out so I didn't have to remember such painful events.

What I do remember though is waking up in the next day half naked in the woods by the park covered in my own blood. I remember the blood curling scream I let out as I tried to move my body, I remember the old lady that found me and I remember the flashing lights that followed.

The next time I woke up I was in a hospital bed, with two broken arms, a couple fractured ribs, one broken leg, a concussion that nearly killed me and scars all over my body, the deepest being in the middle of my back. My face and most of my body had been painted black and blue.

When my mother saw me she fainted. I laughed.

What else was I supposed to do, cry about it? I could barely feel my own body let alone feel any real emotions about what had happened.

The police described it as torture, brutal torture that had lasted over ten hours. I filed a report but nothing came of it, shocker. From that day on anger never left, neither did the anxiety that plagued my childhood or the depression that kept me from leaving my room for a months at a time.

It's crazy to think that a little over ten hours fucked me up so badly, considering I don't even remember half of it but it did. I mean it happened sixteen years ago I don't know why I haven't gotten over it. But if feels like a piece of me left that day and it hasn't come back, even after all these years.

For some annoying reason it never gets any easier to keep my emotions in check each anniversary.

After spending most of the day taking my frustrations out at the gym on my punching bag- I ran there and back instead of driving, trying to avoid getting into another car accident on this day, I came back to my apartment feeling on edge.

I had a shower, I changed into my comfiest sweats, I ordered takeout so I didn't have to worry about cooking. I really tried to make myself feel better but nothing worked so I called her. I knew she could tell something was wrong but she didn't say anything at first. Just listening to her voice made me feel better but I panicked when she started asking questions and I hung up.

I should've replied and I know I shouldn't have scared her the way I did but I knew if I replied or stayed on that call any longer I would've broke down and told her about it and it's embarrassing to be so hung up on something after so many years.