𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 (𝚂𝚊𝚕 𝙵𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛)

New Orlean's-Style Beignets {Thirty-Six}

"I'd do anything to have her to myself
Just to have her for myself..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know how long I expected to ignore my pain. I've pushed it aside, tried to block it out, and practically beat it down with a fucking shovel for a full week now. But suddenly, I'm going to school today and I know that my abuser will be there, too. Everything I wanted to hide and keep at bay is rushing forward.

I've been naive-- haven't given myself the proper time to heal. And it's no one's fault but my own. Had I been honest with everyone about what had happened to me-- more specifically about who did this to me-- I know that things would be different.

My parents would have pulled me out of school immediately. They would have taken me to get checked out, then put me back into therapy if I wanted to go. My dad would have put Max's ass in jail within a moments notice. Mom would have sat with me and talked about everything. She would listen. Dad would, too. Larry, Ash, and Sal would comfort me like they always do. They'd cry with me.

Maybe I can go sit with Kenzie soon and tell her everything even if she can't hear. I want nothing more than to finally visit her. Make sure she's okay. Kiss her forehead and her cheeks just like she'd always done for me. Tell her how much I love her, how much I miss her.

I miss all of her goofy smiles, especially when it involved one of Larry's dirty jokes. I miss the way she would fall asleep with her arms and legs thrown over me and her head on my chest like I was a body pillow. I miss every single time she would try a new food then, immediately, with wide eyes and stuffed chipmunk cheeks, hold out a forkful for me to try. I miss the times when she would put little encouraging stickers that'd say, "Seize the day!" or "Hug your bestie!" onto my backpack and jacket. I miss watching her snatch my open notebook to scribble little hearts in the corners. I miss watching her kick Sal under the table when he'd be a bit too blunt.

I could go on forever. The point is that I really fucking miss Kenzie and thinking of her and all the pain she must be in is make this unbearable weight even heavier on me.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror and being forced to look at myself fills me with dread that only grows. It doesn't get better, it only gets worse and worse until I can feel a dull ache in my chest and a subtle burning in my throat.

I peel the gauze from last night off my face, looking over the stitches that line the bridge of my nose. It's looking a lot better today. The bruising around the gash is starting to turn yellow, and the edges of the cut are starting to darken as a scab forms.

It's complete hell having to clean the parts that haven't scabbed over yet, but I'd rather endure the pain than inflict my own damage later. This is my little bit of pain for the day.

Taping on a new, fresh piece of gauze doesn't take nearly as long as the cleaning process does. So, I look over my work one more time before turning around and blinking away tears.

I grab my backpack, shut my bedroom door, then hop down the stairs to greet my parents.

"Morning, Lee-bear!" Dad chirps, kissing my forehead once I waltz into the kitchen.

I smile warmly, returning his greeting with, "Good morning, Dad. Good morning, Mom. Smells good in here."

It's a smell faintly familiar to me-- one I've only had the pleasure of experiencing the few times I've been to Louisiana with my parents.

Mom turns away from the refrigerator with a pastry in her mouth. She tries to talk, but powdered sugar just gets spewed everywhere. Her eyes widen just as mine do and we stand there quietly for a moment. I smile, trying to swallow a giggle as I say, "Yea. That made a lot of sense. I speak sugar."