Falsify Me

5- Devotion

Ah yes, how the times were swell. No? No, you're right. They weren't. You just made me believe they were. You were pretty good at that. After all, you had built up to the results. I was like a little ugly lab rat that you were feeding cocaine to...bad example maybe. But the resemblance is there.

You were older, you made a point of that.

You were smarter, also making a point of that.

You were better at pretty much everything, how could I forget?

So it makes sense when everything was spiraling downwards, somehow my feelings of terror were irrelevant. It makes absolute sense. And I see it all now...

Feelings? Oh honey, there were none. Since the first incident, I was frozen in time and space. My mind didn't quite work, my body was no longer mine, my emotions- tucked away neatly in a dark corner for safety. So when it's over momentarily, I curl up under the blankets and hear you groaning about something. Cursing over and over, slamming your fists on the wall.

I don't even shake. I just bury my face further into the blankets and listen to you struggle. Somehow the words escape me, words I never consented to.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" I ask and ask, who knows for how long. You don't respond, I never expected you to.

But the next thing I know, we are talking about abortions. I don't know how they work. I don't know how pregnancies work. I didn't know how the male...organs...functioned- until this year's health class. It all really grossed me out. This was no different.

And next thing after that, you're giving me a credit card with so much money, so much. You tell me there are thousands, so many thousands. You tell me to get an abortion. You tell me it will all be okay. You tell me I will have to tell my parents about it all, you tell me you want to cry.

But you can't. You could never cry...odd isn't it? You didn't even look upset, a bad actor you are, indeed.

Words escape me again, reminder of how I have no control over my body, my actions. It was all like I was watching from above, not entirely present.

"I'm scared...I don't know what will happen," And it's true, my dear, if only you understood. For you, an abortion was another way of controlling me. The credit card too. But I couldn't believe it all in that moment.

And you couldn't believe my fear. You told me there was nothing to fear, and when I wasn't convinced, you asked me why I was afraid.

I guess you, the smarter one, couldn't see how an operation, which is a trauma in itself, was so terrifying. The last time I was in an operating room was the day I was given birth to. I don't see doctors. I don't go to the hospital. I don't spend thousands of dollars from someone else and expect support from thousands of miles away. But you didn't expect terror.

So I assumed it wasn't that.

Like everything else the past few days, I pushed away the raw emotions and let you take control, you lead the way! Because as far as you know, an abortion is only a solution. And you're the smarter of us. You're the SMARTER OF US. I believe in you, a misty devotion in the air, one that wouldn't dissipate, so I let it happen.

I let it all happen.

A/N: Hello reader, this is my formal apology. Sometimes I cannot make the writing happen like I want it to. I don't want you to think this situation is funny for me, or taken lightly at all. The only problem is, if I want to keep being a living person, I have to transform this way. I have to write like i'm angry, sarcastic, apologetic, misunderstanding. If I write truthfully, to the raw core...oh honey, we won't go there. So sorry, sorry, about this different style, I know its a very personal and quite serious topic but there you go. That's all I have now. Serious subjects suck. This all sucks. 

Sorry for burdening you with this true, sad, and sucky story.