Holding Onto Youth

Chapter 1

SIERRA

"Remind me why I wake up everyday just to die?"

🌴🌴🌴

"You have such pretty hair, Sierra!" The mature, bristled hand that belonged to my Uncle agreed as he stroked my cheek. His compliment was just another excuse to touch me again, in all the wrong ways. My mother nodded, happily but if she had a face maybe a smile would be plastered on it. It was my grandmother's annual Thanksgiving and everyone was here, all our family from across the world. Even Aunt Paula who spends so much time travelling the world that she barely has time to settle anywhere. However, what was oddly confusing was that even though their faces were very familiar to me, only Uncle Mat's own appeared. He was the only one with a face.

"Come with me Sierra-" He whispered to me as he tugged me from the dinner table.

"Mommy!"

"Oh Sierra honey relax! You'll have fun."

"It's alright sweetheart! Uncle Mat's gonna take good care of you." My father assured me while swaying his hand left to right in the air. 

"But I don't wanna go with Uncle Mat." I cried as my fingers wrapped itself along the railings of the staircase. Uncle Mat yanked on me to let go but I wouldn't. I knew what was going to happen upstairs and I didn't like the idea of it happening again.

"Daddy please! Please don't let him take me-"

"Oh Sierra! Stop being a drama queen and have fun." He mumbled as he crouched down before me. He took the wrist of my hand that was gripping the railing and squeezed it until I let go. He handed me to Uncle Mat who threw me over his shoulder.

"Daddy No! No! No! No!" I chanted as I pounded on his back. A stinging, warmth spread through my butt cheeks and I cried out for my mother who was busy conversing with Aunt Paula. They couldn't see me in distress but they could hear me but why didn't they listen?

Darkness brought me comfort because in the darkness, I was invisible. No one could see me. My palms were sweaty and my breathing varied. I didn't know what to label that vision that played itself behind my eyelids. It couldn't be a dream. Dreams are supposed to be happy and mostly filled with good things you hope would happen to you in reality. It couldn't be a nightmare either. Nightmares are usually based on your fears or fictional things that you hope would never happen. This was a memory. Because it was real and Uncle Mat was real. What he did to me was real. What he did to me for 10 consecutive years of my life since the age of 5 was real.

My measurement of time read, 4:52. It was almost time for me to prep myself for the educational system that was created to suck the creativity out of children's mind and feed them with opinionated facts that they had to regurgitate at least three times between pre-school to high school with the exception of the miniature exams you receive almost everyday just to make sure you're up to date with the system that is basically creating robots because we're not people. We just couldn't be. I finally sorted out the will to remove myself from my soft, comforting addiction, that is my bed to flick the lights on. My room was still dark. Grey black out curtains laced my two windows and connected to the black carpet that sheltered the rosewood beneath which held my queen sized bed that's covered in black sheets and the print out of my body like a crime scene. I had boxes that held my clothes and books. An ash coffee table that held my laptop and clock beside my window. My room was depressing all by itself and yet I spend most of my day in here.