Parallel Lives | BBANGSAZ

T H I R T Y E I G H T

M I N J I
—

People deal with trauma differently. Some lean on their family and friends. Some fight so they can smile again. And then there are those who close in on themselves and eventually spiral out of control.

And then there's me.

I never spiraled out of control. I didn't drink, do drugs, or even smoke. I just stopped feeling. I was always the good girl, trying to please my mother in every possible way. Trying to get her attention, trying to get her to like me.

There's a little girl inside me, no older than seven, who screamed for help, but no one heard her. There's a seven-year-old inside my mind who hates her mother more than anything—a feeling no child should have towards her own mother. I remember those days like they were yesterday. I relive them in my nightmares.

I was seven when my mom left for the first time with my brother for a week. Taehyung didn't want to leave me alone, but Delilah dragged him with her, leaving me completely alone in that cold house. She left me fifteen dollars and some food in the fridge. I was seven. I didn't know how to cook; I couldn't even reach the kitchen table. The week went by, then another, and another. The feeling of hunger, the helplessness, and the loneliness still haunt me today. I would wake up alone after passing out from crying and screaming for help. I would get up, change my clothes, and walk to school alone. I would eat whatever I could find there.

By the third week, I was so hungry I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't breathe. I screamed so loud, but no one heard me. Our neighbors had a little garden connected to our house, and I went over there in the middle of the night and stole some tomatoes. I took them home and ate them for days. I ate so many that I got sick to the point where I thought I was dying. I passed out at school, they called 911, and I almost ended up in foster care. But my mother came back that day with my brother, and they found me in the hospital. My mom lied, saying she'd been with me the entire time. Taehyung didn't say anything but hugged me so hard I almost lost my breath. And they let me go with her again, even though I begged them not to.

That little girl suffered so much trauma. So many nights my mom did anything for money, even if it meant hurting us. "You're so pretty," she'd say, "you'd make good money." She repeated that every night until I turned eleven and realized what was happening. She stopped because she knew we were getting older and wiser. All our mom cared about was drugs and money.

There's a little girl with big, shiny brown eyes, wearing pigtails and old clothes, who only wanted love—who only wanted to escape her mother. And even to this day, she can't.

It's been five days since Delilah showed up in the parking lot of the club. Five days since Hanni met her. Five days since Delilah embarrassed me in front of her. Five days since I cried like a little girl in her arms. Five days since I went radio silent.

Delilah has asked for money at least five more times since that day, and I sent her everything I had because I'm not strong enough to fight her. I'm not strong enough to handle her. I never have been. I'm still that little girl who let her mother control her life, that little girl too scared to say no.

That little girl who was so innocent she pretended to be asleep while a stranger was in the room with her, making strange noises. She was too scared to run, too scared to breathe, too scared to cry.

I haven't left the dorm in those days. I called in sick at the diner, and I've missed all my classes. I can't move. I don't want to. I just want to die in this bed. Haerin's been too busy to check on me, but she does from time to time. She brings me food, water, and tries to talk to me—she also tells me Hanni is worried, which I know. I have a lot of messages from her, a lot of missed calls. She even showed up at the dorm, but I didn't see her. I can't face her. I can't see her.