Dance

Sleepovers are for Stories and Truths

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, still trying to get my breathing under control. I was sitting in the bathroom with my back pressed up against the wall by the toilet. I was sobbing, but no tears were coming out of my eyes. I never cried real tears anymore. I could hear my friends outside the door questioning what just happened. Could I really tell them my dark secret? Reece already knew, but would the others judge me or look at me differently? I wouldn't be able to handle any pity stares or weird looks from my new friends that I have come to love.

"Anna?" Reece called. "Can I come in?" I couldn't answer her due to how badly I was hyperventilating. I couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. She decided to come in anyway. Reece slid through the door, closing it immediately so the others couldn't see my break down. She rushed to the floor beside me. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly, brushing my hair from my face. I shook my head no. I still couldn't calm down. "Breathe Anna. Try to calm down and breathe." She tried to soothe me, rubbing circles on my back. Someone pounded on the door, "Is she okay?" Brice questioned, concern laced in his voice. Reece didn't answer, focusing her attention on me. Everyone outside was so worried, and they were getting louder about it. I thought about my dream, and my stomach churned painfully. I gasped for breath before turning and throwing up once again into the toilet bowl. "I'm coming in!" Brice exclaimed, and I couldn't exactly tell him no at that moment. After about five seconds, my hair was lifted off the back of my neck and a large, warm hand was rubbing my back. It was Brice. I immediately relaxed back into his hand, finally able to take in a large, shuttering, deep breath.

After I was done, Brice swept me up into his arms bridal style, and carried me into the living room, setting me down onto the couch. Everyone huddled around me. Their worry was obvious, and it made me feel slightly better to have so many people that care so deeply for me. Brice sat on one side of me, throwing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me close, while Reece sat on the other side and held my hand. Scott and Gabby sat on the floor in front of me, we were all very quiet. "Anna... what was that about?" Gabby asked, looking down at the floor. She was worried for me. They all were. I can't imagine how it must feel to wake up to someone you care about screaming bloody murder. They all really cared for me, and wanted to make sure I was okay.

So I told them. I told them everything. Reece, who had already known, sat supportively holding my hand the whole time. I got choked up, and had to stop a few times in order to hold back the tears I didn't want to fall. When I was born, there had been some complications which caused my mother to need and emergency C-section. Both of us had almost died during the procedure, and my mom was stuck in the hospital for weeks after my birth. The doctors told my parents that it would be very unlikely that they would ever have another child, and, that if somehow my mother ended up pregnant it could be very dangerous for her and the baby to go through with the pregnancy. As upsetting as that news had been, my parents loved me fiercely – they were both great parents. I can still remember my mom doing arts and crafts with me, singing me to sleep each night, and trying her best to give me a happy childhood. As great as things were going, things were even better when my mom discovered she was pregnant right after my fifth birthday. The doctors even said that there was a pretty good chance that, with proper care, my mom would be able to give birth to a healthy, happy baby.

Things were going great, my mother was eight months into her pregnancy and we had everything we needed for the baby – including a fully furnished nursery for my awaiting little brother. One day, my mom was in the basement of our house looking for who knows what. As she was walking up the stairs, I came around the corner and called her name loudly, not knowing where she was. She wasn't expecting me to be there and I frightened her, making her jump. In turn, she tumbled down the stairs and lay crumpled on the floor, clutching her stomach in agony. "Get your father!" she cried out to me, making me turn and run for him with tears streaming down my eyes. We went to the hospital where the doctors ran some tests and sent my mom home to rest. The next day, while my father was at work, I went outside to see my mom getting of the phone and crying. That was the start of it all. She had blamed me for the death of her son – she hated me. For years when my father was gone (which was pretty often as his job kept him away from home) I suffered from abuse at the hands of my mom. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally abused for eleven years until my mother had finally decided to leave us for her boyfriend. Caroline had eventually figured it out, but I made her swear to not tell a soul. I truly believed that I deserved my mother's rage – even if it hurt like hell. I stayed with Caroline as much as I possibly could – her house was always open to me and her parents took me in as if I was their own.