The Choices We Make

Help Me

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

I was lost. All I could see was darkness, and no longer was there even the slightest light at the end of the tunnel. I walked around like a zombie, sleep deprived and malnourished. On the outside I was numb, but on the inside I was screaming for someone to help me get out of the nightmare I was living in.

None of my old friends would talk to me. Only a handful would, and I totally understood why. I was basically unapproachable; when I was with him, no one dared speak to me. I did what he said, like I was his slave. People noticed, and sometimes old friends would express their concern. I was always glad to hear that someone cared, but they just didn't get it. It wasn't like I could just break up with him. I had become dependent upon him. He had brainwashed me to the point that I was addicted even to the abuse. Without it, I didn't know who I was. My identifier was the cage that I was trapped in. The sick part of me liked it that way. I was pathetic, and growing more so every day.

I was too numb to eat, to numb to do anything besides sleep when I got the chance. I knew that I was sick, but I was too numb to care. I lost all interest in everything, and eventually told God to go away. I was done with him, I told him; I was going to live my life the way I wanted. I told him I would be back when I was older, that right now I just wanted to live my life for myself.

I still read one Bible verse every night just like I always had. It seemed to be the only thing left from my old life before Damien. Although I had basically told God to go away, I still prayed to him every night. I didn't ever expect him to answer my prayers, though. I was too far gone to deserve that, but I wanted him to help me stop. People had already tried to convince me that I was making a mistake by being with Damien, but I knew that God was the only one who could convince me. But since I left God, I didn't feel like I deserved help.

If anyone had asked me, I would have told them that I was a Christian even though I wasn't acting like one. I knew that I would gladly claim God and His son in front of other people, but I wasn't speaking with him except when I prayed for protection at night.

I wanted a human to care about me, to see how I was suffering and reach out. But no one would meet my gaze. And when they did they would turn quickly away, not bothering to see the trapped and desperate girl trapped and looking out from my eyes.

"You should eat," some told me.

"I'm not hungry," I would reply.

I would get an incredulous look from them and then they would give up on me. Every one was giving up on me. Including myself. They wouldn't take a second to consider what was really going on. That maybe there was more to it than me changing to get a boy to keep liking me. They didn't realize how much deeper it was than that.

Thinner I grew, quieter I grew, lonelier I grew, hopeless I grew. I grew and grew until there was nothing left but sorrow and desperation.