Never Truly Lost

Chapter 5

Hands holding me down, pulling at my arms and legs. Tight grips digging into my already bruised skin. My shirt rips with the force of their pulling. I feel cold hands on my bare stomach. Sweat is building up all over my body. And yet this does not stop them from forcing me onto the ground. I resist and try to kick out at them. 

This earns me a sharp sting to my thigh.

I think I'm bleeding.

I feel the blade again on my arm and I scream. The force of the blow to my head causes my head to hit the floor and the thwack echoes behind the white lights in my eyes.

The knife digs in deeper and I scream louder; there are no thoughts of repercussions in my mind.

I just want the torture to end.

A hand grips my throat. I choke. I can't breathe. I'm feeling light headed. There are still hands clawing at my body. Pain and loss of sensation in my limbs, it all mixes together. I gasp for breathe. There are tears in my eyes.

Stop, stop, please...

I woke from the nightmare gasping for air. The cool, sweet air entered my lungs and I breathed deeply. I reached up and felt my throat. The ghosts of past blisters still lingered around my neck and I knew from the hoarseness of my throat that I was screaming the night before. I got my breathing under control and then I realised that I could feel the sweat on my body cooling and leaving me feeling sticky and dirty. It's almost as though I could feel the remnants of their hands on my body.

I moved my bed spread out of the way and ran my hand over the scars on my leg and arm. There were many more. They were not visible upon first glance but when you look for the thin white lines it becomes quite evident how many there are and where they are. I didn't like to show them off. For obvious reasons. But at that moment, it was those two, the ones on my arm and leg that had my attention. Because they were the ones from the nightmare. Or more correctly, the memory.

I fell backwards onto my pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Even though my eyes were wide open I could still see that dark, cold cell and the men holding me down. I felt my heart rate pick up as I just lay there and remembered. Why? Why can't it stop? Why do I have to be the one who has something wrong with them? Why can't I just be a normal person with normal problems?

As long as I had been in Littlebrooke I had been trying to fit in, trying to be normal. Only when I was with Carrie did I feel normal. But even she couldn't see the turmoil going on inside of me. I felt it building, progressing and just boiling in the pit of my stomach. I felt sad. I felt inadequate. I felt scared; all at one time. Nothing I did seemed to be able to completely block me from feeling that way. It went away for a while, sure, but it was never truly gone. 

I almost felt as though something was missing. Ha! It is not just a 'something' that was missing. I couldn't do anything about that but at the back of my mind I couldn't help but worry over the idea. If that had something to do with the way that I felt every day, if it truly was affecting my life in a way that prevented me from living then how was I ever supposed to be whole again? Was I doomed to an unfulfilled life where I would always feel like a part of me was missing?

I didn't like keeping it in. I didn't like suffering silently. It's not as easy as it seems in books or movies. I didn't have anyone that I could talk to. I just wanted it to end. I didn't want to have to feel like this. I needed to keep busy or else those thoughts would take over. And that scared me more than anything else- where would those kind of thoughts lead to? Did I truly want to find out?