My step dad asked me what happened in the morning. I just lied saying I don't know and that I fell down the complex stairs. He asked if I needed to go to the hospital I said no as I popped some paracetamol. I got dressed today. It was hard as my body was so stiff. But I did it. I tried to cover what you did to me as much as I could.
I saw you today and you saw me. You looked guilty. Is it remorse? Stephen asked me if I was okay and I told him what you did to him and showed him where you pinned my hands down. Purple rings circled each wrist. I told him why you did it to me. Stephen said that was no excuse and almost marched up to you. I should've let him. But I couldn't have people knowing I couldn't stand up for myself.
It was the same old day but today you helped me put my stuff in my locker at the end of the day when you weren't with anybody. Which pissed me off because you hurt me worse than anyone has and then you try making up for it. But I push you away from me and hurl all type of insults at you. I end falling back as I back away from you. You try to help me up but I get up and quickly walk away from you. You call after me but I ignore you. Everything you did to me burns in the back of my head as I ride the bus home. I've never cried on the bus but I guess there's a first time for everything.
Crying had always been a healthy release, but for me it was a habit now. The blue feeling washed in like an unwanted wave, knocking my sandcastles flat. Then what? Was I supposed to construct them again? Get that bucket and spade out and make it pretty all over again? I sat. No more building, no more castles. I sat and stared out of the window, more tears, no surprise there. I let them fall, not raising a hand to stop them. I let them splash on my hand. It had a black tint from the mascara. I looked up and saw that it was only me on the top deck of the bus.
I was lonely.
I came home and my parents were sat at the dining table. My mom had been crying. So had my step dad. They call me and I had no choice but to go. They sat me down at the table and ask me what's wrong. So I sigh and tell them everything you did to me. What you did to me. It was hard getting the words out my throat but a sense of relief washed over me when I finished. They were horrified and called the school despite me begging them not to. They tell me they're going to take me back to the doctors to see if they can give me something stronger. I argue saying I don't need it. That I'm fine. My voice grows louder by the second. They try not to shout at me but I wish they did. My anger overtook me and I started shouting hysterically. My step dad sprung up and restrained me after I grabbed the vase on the table and threw it at the wall.
My life was spiralling.
I thought as he pinned me to the ground, trying to control me. My mother wasn't sure what to do apart from telling me to calm down. But telling someone to calm down is like lighting a sofa on fire and trying to put it out with more fire. I squirmed out of my step fathers hands and dashed for the door, flinging it open and ran out down the stairs.
I had to get out of there. The image of you hurting me pierced my eyes as I remembered everything you did to me. It's okay though.
I'm fine.
Who am I kidding?
I wasn't fine.
I never was.
