How to FORGET

The Past can be a 'Pain'

In…..

Out…..

In…..

Out…..

Deep breaths. Focus. Think about what you are doing.

You don’t want to drive off the road.

All I feel is pain. Well, anger too, but mostly just pain. Absolute pain, effects of the flashbacks; memories from driving down this road.

Going back there was the worst idea I have ever had. I should have just left all my crap there and gotten someone else to pick it up and mail it to me. But no, I decide facing my problems head on is the smartest thing to do. Well, all I got from that little trip was a headache the size of Michigan and one more step away from a panic attack. I’m so close to losing it right now that I swear I can see Cristiano Ronaldo playing soccer up at the fields….yep…I’m losing it.

I pull over briefly to try and stop my hand from shaking so much.

“Gosh, Nicole! Pull it together!” I look at myself in the mirror and frown. I hadn’t realized that I was crying. I fix the small black streaks running down my cheeks and pull back onto the main road.

That house brought back more pain than I thought it would. Too many memories of the late nights lying in bed praying that I would find a way to fall asleep with my numerous bruises. All the long sleeved t-shirts that I wore, even mid-summer just to try to hide any and all signs of the abuse.

Too many times, I tried to get out. I would run until my lungs felt like they would collapse but it was like running on a treadmill, it only ended up causing more problems.

Eventually my dad left, and my last flicker of hope went out. But really, even before that dad never really did anything. In the beginning, he tried to get her to see reason, but after a while, he just gave in and took up drinking. He was gone too much to do anything. So one day he just picked up and left.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

 It got far worse from there, but eventually I became numb. Which probably isn’t a good thing, but at the time it helped me cope. If I tried to fight back, it only got worse, so I decided to take the abuse.

The abuse eventually got so extreme that on occassion I would find myself spitting up blood and have to excuse myself to the bathroom. I did my best to keep to myself and not allow anyone to know what was going on, but somehow the police found out about all of it and showed up at my house. They took her away and put me into the foster program where I stayed until I became a legal adult.

But I never found out who called them in the first place.

Even though she may have been put in prison she haunted me everywhere I went. Even when I wasn’t thinking about her, I would do things because of her. An example of this is whenever a figure of authority or even a peer that has an aura of superiority addresses me I immediately hang my head to show that I am inferior. I also constantly worry about whether I am doing something right and second-guess myself.

All she brought me was constant pain even after she was gone.

Slowly I make a turn onto a small two-lane road like the map tells me to, and I see the same soccer field that I saw before. However, this time I know that this isn’t Cristiano Ronaldo, but whoever it is, he plays soccer like a pro.

 Slowly I stop the car for a second to put my headphones into my cheap mp3 player. As soon as I turn it on, I put Breaking Benjamin on repeat and turn the volume all the way up. Seeing that this road is completely deserted I decide to just rest here for a while. I lean back in my chair and force myself to sleep, a thing that I taught myself while going through multiple foster homes.

After what feels like literally seconds of shuteye I hear an annoying beeping sound coming from my right. Too lazy to open my eyes, I pick up my mp3 player and slowly squint to see the screen. But something bigger catches my attention. There’s a bright light coming at me directly to my right. As I watch, it gets closer and closer to my car. I hear the sound again, and I understand.

“SHOOT!”

I shove the keys into the ignition but it’s pointless, it’s just about ten seconds away from my side view mirror.

Suddenly my door rips open, and I scream. Suddenly I feel warm hands clasp around my arm and yank me out of the car. I feel them pulling me out of the car,  hardly far enough to be safe. There isn’t any time to take cover before I’m showered with pieces of metal flying everywhere, and before I am able to put my hands above my head a large object falls on my head and everything suddenly goes black.

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A/N

Thanks everyone who is reading this book. I know there is probably a TON of mistakes. So if you see anything put it in a comment! Thnx!!!! Also this is my first book so if you have any other tips for me just message me or put it in a comment!

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:)

---rOoLeR---