Soft Spot

N I N E T E E N

I grew up in a home with 2 loving parents and the best brother a girl could have. Our family was perfect, we were what people would call a "picture perfect" family. Our lives were great, we had great friends, we went to a great school, lived in a great neighborhood. Everything was just perfect, until it wasn't. I met Carter when I was only 14 years old. He was new in town, and his family was one of the richest people in our town, other than my family of course. For obvious reasons him and I spent a lot of time together, business dinners, social galas and what not. My parents didn't like him very much due to the fact that he was the opposite of a good child. I, on the other hand, adored him, and because of that they chose not to forbid me to hang out with him. Now I wish they had. We started dating a few months after he moved to our town. We immediately became the power couple in our school, nothing could break us. For the first few months that's exactly what it was like, amazing. We were inseparable, but then things changed. Carter's dad cheated on his mom and Carter just decided it was my fault. At first I was okay with him yelling at me for everything, I wanted to be able to be his rock when he needed to let out his frustrations. I didn't realize that it was wrong, even when my friends would tell me to make it stop, I never realized. I loved him more than I loved myself. That's when my family went from "picture perfect" to picture upside down. The first time he hit me I apologized to him, because he was upset I felt like I should be sorry. I thought it'd just be a one time thing and we'd be okay. I was wrong, he started to treat me like a punching bag. Everywhere that he could hit me that nobody would see, he left his mark. My body became weak, I became weak. I became different, and my family knew I was different. They tried to help me, but without knowing what was going on they couldn't do much. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping. I wanted to stop living, to get away from Carter. I felt like I couldn't just leave him, our families were such great friends and there was no way I could ruin that like I had already ruined our image. I wasn't the perfect child anymore, I didn't get good grades, my teachers no longer cared for me, people shook their heads as they saw me walking the streets. I did things for Carter that I should never have done. I hurt the people that I loved because I was scared that he'd hurt me if I didn't. I put myself before my family and my friends so he wouldn't hurt me, but he always did anyway. When my parents started to realize the loss in my weight things started to shift. I was sent to this place where young girls that were suffering from "anorexia" were supposed to get "better". I stayed there for awhile before they allowed me to go home. After being away from Carter for awhile I was strong enough to leave him. So that's what I did, I did it infront of my brother and his friends so that he couldn't retaliate. I thought that it'd stop my pain, but it didn't. It simply made him go away for awhile, but my pain stayed. I still loved him with everything in me, and it hurt not to see him, even if when I did see him he was hurting me most of the time. I knew going back wasn't an option, so I turned to other things. Alcohol, drugs, one nightstands. I turned into a party girl. Coming home past 3 or 4 in the morning drunk or high. Not waking up until 5 in the afternoon hungover, sometimes I didn't even go home. I'd stay out for days. My parents finally broke, I had broke them. My father wanted nothing to do with my mother because she wanted nothing to do with me. Yet they wouldn't divorce because it'd hurt our family reputation, and we already looked fucked up. They made me go to rehab, I was there for about 6 months until I was able to come home. I found out that my parents had finally divorced. It hurt knowing it was my fault, and I wanted to go out for one night, I wouldn't get high or drunk, I'd stay sober. I'd promised my brother that I wouldn't do anything bad, that I just wanted to go out and see some old friends. I went to a party and met up with some people, we were having a good time. I'd kept my promise to my brother, I didn't drink or smoke, that was until I saw Carter. He just got back from Canada with his family and showed up to the party. I made one choice. One bad decision that led to the worst night of my life. That's the night that my world really went crashing down. The night the most important person in my life died because of me. Instead of leaving the party like any normal, sane person I stayed. I grabbed a cup and I drank. I grabbed a blunt and I smoked. I did a line in the bathroom with some girls I didn't even know. I got trashed, and when Carter finally saw me, dancing with some guy, he snapped. After hitting me a few times I ran out, calling my brother. There it was, another bad decision I wish I never made. When Carter and his friends showed up with bats, and started swinging on my brother I ran. Again, the worst decision ever. I was too fucked up to actually get away, so I just ran to another person's house. They called the cops, and the boys were arrested while my brother was sent to the hospital. I didn't go with him, if I had went I would have been arrested because of the state I was in. So instead I hid out at a park until I sobered up. When I did, I met my parents at the hospital. They were to ashamed to even look at me. I remember the moment I walked up to my mom she smacked me right in the mouth, and yelled that it was my fault. That I killed him. I killed my brother. My father didn't stop her, he didn't move from his chair. His only son had just died, and his daughter was the one that got him killed. Why would he ever want to protect a killer from her mother? After my brothers funeral my father left for Afghanistan. My mother quit her job and became an alcoholic. Exactly 3 months after my brothers death my mother tried to kill herself. I remember I walked through the doors of my house after school and there she was with an empty pill bottle in her hand. She was barley conscious, her eyes kept wanting to close but I kept begging her to keep them open. I remember the last thing she said to me was that she wished it had been me that died instead of my brother. I didn't mind because I wished it had been me too. When the paramedics finally got to her she had passed out. She was rushed to the hospital, and just barley made it. They saved her life. When she woke up laying in the hospital bed she cried. She screamed that I should have let her die. A small part of me wished I had, because maybe then she'd be able to be happy. She wouldn't be in pain all the time and she wouldn't hate me. But I was selfish, and I wanted her alive because even though she hated me I loved her and I needed her. When she got better they sent her away to a home, and I was sent to live with my aunt Gina. It was about 4 months before she came home, she got her job back and eventually after 2 months of being home she let me come home too. I remember the tears that came out of her eyes when she saw me. I remember the way she dropped to her knees and sobbed at my feet. I remember the way she looked at me, with so much regret and sorrow.

"I'm sorry baby, it wasn't your fault"

She'd said to me. It was the nicest thing she'd said to me in almost 9 months. I remember every part of that day like it was yesterday. The way she hugged me, like she'd let me down when really I was the one that had let her down. She got her promotion to the New York office about 3 months later. It was the fresh start she deserved, the fresh start we both needed.