I felt the fear ripple down my spine and travel to the soles of my feet. I now knew how it felt to be paralyzed with fear. Never one to be afraid, never one to back down to any challenge, the feeling of fear was foreign to me. My eyes bore straight into the soul of my teacher from the moment he walked into the classroom and I knew this class would be like no other.
I used to think the tears i cry came with the pain from the experiences but I now realize it is my fear and my knowledge that I have no one. That no matter how many tears I shed, no one would think my cry for help of any significance. Mother was too wrapped up in raising four other children and father was non existent. Being the eldest, it was expected that I would set the example for the younger ones.
I tried to talk about his cruelty. I tried to explain my black and blues to my mother but she hardly ever paid attention. When she did she just said "Yuh fall down again gyul?" and shrugged it off. I knew things would never change, but I secretly still hoped. I wished that she see would truly see me, see through my facade. Who was I kidding? She never took a real interest. I eventually had given up. I knew she did not care. I could see it. To her I was an inconvenience, a disappointment. I was an embarrassment.
If she cared she would have probed more, she would have tried harder. She would have been able to tell that something was wrong. I began to believe that if my own mother, the person obliged to love me for the rest of my life, couldn't, then why should anyone else. Distancing myself from everyone was my only defense because I believed that deep down behind their "smiles" they truly didn't care to hear my answer.
Everyday, him being here in class was a reminder of my insignificance. He pointed his big, stubby finger directly toward me and I felt my heart beat falter for just a second. His eyes revealled the beast that burns within the depths of his soul. I knew that look. It indicated that he was awakened, alive, ready to release onto me the cruelest tongue lashing from his darkened lips. As he is about to sound his first word, my name is announced over the intercom in the most nasal, monotonous voice I have ever heard. "Saved by the bell," he mutters under his breath.
I hurriedly left the class and made my way down to the office. Part of me hope that this was it. The moment when someone realized that something was wrong, but that part was small. It was almost unrecognizable. As small as it was, I still felt the pang of disappointment when I realized what I had been called for. They knew. This was it, the end of my road.
It was about three months ago when I had told a past boyfriend about how hard things were in my life. He had introduced me the best thing that had ever touched my taste-buds. He made me believe that no matter how bad things were, what he was giving me would make it all seem like nothing. He promised that I would've been able to stop using it whenever I wanted. He lied. As time passed, I wanted and needed more. I kept reassuring myself with his words. I could have chosen when I wanted to stop, but I didn't, I couldn't.
I walked out the prison like gates for the final time. Whether they had called my mother or not, I did not care. I was obviously unwanted, how could this change anything, unless for the worse?With no one too collect me as I walked out, I decided this was it. I was finished. Before returning home, I visited the few acquaintances I had to collect the stuff my body and mind were craving. I needed it. I needed to clear my mind, to take away the pain of knowing how much I had failed. I knew I couldn't travel while high, so I came to the conclusion that I would just do it home since it was early and everyone was in school.
On my arrival, I immediately locked myself in the room I shared with three of my siblings. I had decided this was the last time I was going to get high, the last time to make all decisions and I needed to think everything through clearly. With nothing yet in my body to numb how I felt, my emotions came down like an avalanche. My secrets, my fears, my once hopes and dreams, all gone. There was no point for me anymore in this world.
No one cared about me, they all just pretended too. Mother didn't care, father was long gone, my family hated me, Charles broke up with me, school kicked me out, I was rejected by all forms of nature. "I will be doing them a favour", I thought while inhaling the herbs through a bong. With my head light and all worries gone, it all made sense.
"Of course this would make them happy! Why wouldnt it? I'm out of the equation, therefore they can go on with life without dragging me on as a burden. My goodness I should have thought of this earlier! Sometimes I forget just how intelligent you are!", I stated to a girl in the window. She even looked as convinced as I felt. I pulled out the razor blade and decided, " Let's give this stranger a show, shall we?". To the music i heard in my head, I waved my arms in various movements and swayed my hips from side to side. Each time I brought my arms down I made a deep stroke into my wrists. I turned each agonizing scream into a battle cry, because I was making a sacrifice. I was sacrificing my life and happiness to make everyone else happy.
I stopped to look back at the girl in the window. Her expression had changed. What was once a face of excitement had now been smeared with blood and her dark eyes were encircled with a red colour. She looked completely bored. I couldnt understand why, and neither did I care, but that made me very angry. I needed to step it up.
Her renewed smile and excitement reflected mine and her eyes clouded with darkness when I revealed to her the rope. She was saddened by something, I could tell, but when I reached out to tell her everything will be ok there was a stupid sheet of glass between us. I had to get through, but I felt so weak. There was alot of blood in the bathroom where I was. On the floor there were several pools of it. There was blood everywhere, on my clothes, my face, the walls, sink, the curtain to the bathroom, simply everywhere.
I looked for something heavy enough to break the window, I needed to get to that girl. She needed some of what I took to make her happy. I scanned the room for something heavy enough to get through the glass. There it was. I had it front of me all along. I was never going to get high again, so what was the point of me keeping this bong? I could have barely raised it to make enough of an impact to break the glass. My frustration seemed to be mirrored in her reaction. I was out of breath, my legs felt unstable and everything was shifting in and out of focus. I struggled to raise the object a final time and I faintly heard the shattering of glass. Had it worked?
When my sight came back again the girl was gone. Her mocking face now just a memory. I wanted to put the pieces back together and demand why she had just disappeared but I could barely stand. I felt my back collide with the damp floor below, knocking the breath out of me. Staring at the ceiling, I saw it all. I saw my long braids flowing behind me as I played hide and seek with my mom when I was five, I saw the pride in her face when I held my baby sister for the first time, the absolute love when she placed a bandaid on a cut I had gotten when I was twelve. I faintly heard my name being yelled out in the background while these lovely pictures of my past flashed before my eyes and yet, her face was the last thing I saw before it all went dark.
