Be careful what you say, you never know what's going on in someone's life. Your words may be the ones to finally break them.
Prologue
Look into my eyes
can you see its all a disguise
I hide the pain so well
With just a glance you can't tell
All the hurt is washed away
But the pain creeps back in some way
No one notices at all
As I hide behind my stone wall
I keep up the game
I live for fame
Until it all comes crashing down
My emotions are hidden
To know me is forbidden
I have no friends
So when it all ends
I only bring me down
"Sir, I'm sorry to inform you of this..."
"This is all your fault"
"There was nothing we could do..."
"I'm going to make you pay"
"Is there anyone you need to call?"
"How could you let this happen?"
"I'm sorry daddy"
"You don't know what sorry is! I'm going to make you pay for this for the rest of your life!"
"Daddy no!"
I hate this part. I hate having to remember the day this all began. That was the moment it really set in. That was when I really knew he hated me. That I hated myself.
The damp sheets are sticking to my skin, my breathing is heavy, and I'm acutely aware of everything. It's been awhile since I've had this nightmare. Since I've smelt the blood and gunpowder, heard the sirens, tasted the regret. Every second is like a slideshow in my mind that I can't seem to put a stop to. It makes my already rigid breaths even harder to exhale. I can hear the roaring of the blood pumping through my veins. I want to move, to free my limbs from their confinement beneath my comforter but everything just feels so heavy. With this elephant on my chest and this rope around my wrists and ankles, I don't know if I'll ever be able to remove myself from this bed, this slaughterhouse.
"Brittany, get your ass down here now!" The booming voice shakes my walls, shatters my eardrums, and leaves me broken.
"Yes sir!" I yell back with only a fraction of the strength I wish I had. I remember when the smell of pancakes would fill my nose and make my mouth salivate. When there was a warmth that would bring me into its arms and hold me. Now there's only the stench of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol induced vomit to burn the hairs in my nostrils. That warmth is now a bitter coldness that pierces my heart. A symbol of how much my life has truly changed. How the man, who I once called my father, sitting in that creaky chair has changed. My hot breakfast has been exchanged for a few pieces of old cereal and, if I'm lucky, a couple of drops of overdue milk.
"What have I told you about sleeping past my alarm?" A gruff voice asks me.
"That I should never be asleep a second later then when it goes off." I say back softly
"Speak up! You know I hate when you mumble."
I flinch but quickly repeat what I said, louder than before.
"Then why did I not see you right where you are now when I walked into this kitchen?" His voice carried an eery calmness.
"I-I don't know" I knew that wasn't the answer he was looking for.
"You don't know?"
"No sir"
His fist collided with the table, sending splinters of wood, along with my half empty glass of water, to the floor.
"You don't know! How dare you sit there and lie right to my face. You know exactly why you were late. Why don't you just admit it!" I can see the veins bulging from his neck and the waves of his hatred are drowning me.
"I-I overslept, that's it!"
"That's bullshit and you know it!"
"I really did!"
"You better get out of my sight now before I send you to live with your mother!" I'm stuck in my chair. I'm trying to make sense of what he just said. Trying to see if I heard him correctly.
"I'm going to give you one last chance" his breath on my face makes me want to shrivel up and die but it's enough to bring my body to the present and run.
"When you get back, clean up this mess you've made!" Of course I'm left picking up the pieces of myself that he's left there on the floor once again.
Call me what you please. Say what you want. But don't ever pretend like you know me. You don't and never will. I keep people away for a reason, I keep things close for a reason. Once you let something out, you can never get it back in. No one ever said life was easy, but they sure as hell never said it was this hard. Keeping up with everyone around you is too much work. There are too many people in this world who are fake. Who are willing to bring you into their life only to stab you in the back the very next day. I can't risk having those kinds of people in my life. I can't risk the damage they could do.
If I knew I was gonna hate who I am, then I would have refused to be born. That way, everything that I keep inside wouldn't exist. There would be no constant need to keep people at a distance. To look over my shoulder every time a door slams or someone yells. I wouldn't have this constant panic every second of every day. There would be no reason to run and hide. No reason to flinch every time someone touches me. I wouldn't be afraid.
I get the great pleasure of attending William McKinley High School. Those are words that I can add to my list of things that have never been said. This place is nothing short of a prison. Every single move you make is monitored. Every single breath you take is calculated. This place sucks the soul right out of your body. Your first day here seems great. You think things are looking on the bright side, then you actually experience all this school has to offer and slowly but surely, you lose all sense of hope. I don't know if it's the black and red interior, the silver and white lockers, or that hint of mold that wafts through the air but something just makes this place feel like hell.
"Are you fucking serious you slut!" The anger in Puck's voice is evident.
"Well maybe if you weren't in my way, this wouldn't have happened!" I say in a nonchalant voice.
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to!"
"The last time I checked you and I were the only ones having a conversation." I don't know where this confidence has come from, but I really wish it would go away. This was all my fault. I was the one who wasn't looking as I walked across the cafeteria. I was the one who spilled my lunch all over the star quarterback and I'm the one who is about to get the shit beat out of them if I don't shut up.
"Who the fuck do you think you are!" Puck yelled into my face.
"If I'm correct, I'm the one who no longer has a lunch. I think you should get me a new one considering you ruined my last one." What the hell am I doing? I know this is the day after but can my wish for death really be this strong? I know that my whole world is shattered and that nothing can put the pieces back together but is now the time to really seal my fate?
"That's it!" That's the last thing I hear before Puck grabs me by the throat, cutting off my air flow. I'm sure I have a look of pure fear on my face, a look I know very well.
"Puck! Stop it right now!" I could just hear a voice shout as I started losing consciousness.
"Set her down right now or so help me God I will make you regret ever being born!" I was going to tell him to join the club but the hand crushing my windpipe prevented me from doing so. I can feel my body crash to the floor and I try to suck in as much breath as I can, wheezing and gasping in the process. I just lay here on the floor even though I know people are staring at me. I was so close to death. To the ultimate release. But why was I so scared? That was what I wanted, what I needed. Yet, I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want my story to end. Why?
I lay here on the floor until the bell rings. I just can't bring myself to get up. I know I have to get to class. I know that if I don't go things will only get worse for me, but I can't move. I feel like I'm back in my bed, back under those sheets and they are holding me down.
"Miss?"
I jolt from my thoughts.
"Oh um sorry."
"Is there somewhere you ne-" the janitor stops mid-sentence and just stares at my neck.
"Is there a problem sir?"
"I think you should go to the nurse's office."
"Why?"
"They can call your parents and then you can go to the hospital."
"What?"
"Just follow me, I'll take you there." He goes to grab my arm but I flinch and his hand stops just inches short.
"Maybe I should get the nurse to come here, immediately. Just wait a second."
"No! I'm fine. I have to go!" I say as I run out of there as quickly as possible. I can barely hear him telling me to stop. That was a close call. I stop just outside of the girl's restroom and catch my breath. I go in as quietly as possible, just in case there are other people in here. I don't need to bring anymore attention to myself. Luckily there's no one else. I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding. I grip onto the sink so tightly that my hands turn white. I prepare myself to do something I haven't done in years. With a quick tilt of my head and no time to back out, I look at myself in the mirror. The involuntary gasp that slips past my lips echoes off the walls. The huge hand shaped bruises aren't what shocks me though. It's that fact that I don't even recognize the person I'm looking at. The bags under my eyes are a shade of black I didn't even know existed. My hair is no longer the brilliant color of blonde that it used to be but a dull, pale yellow. But what really gets me are my eyes. They have turned into a dark navy blue, no longer the color of the Caribbean Sea. They are void of all emotions. So empty, yet I can still feel the pain radiating out of them. I look away as quickly as I looked up. I can feel the moisture start to accumulate in my eyes. This isn't happening. Not here, not now. I do the only thing I know. I run.
The park has always been a means for me to escape this hell hole I call life. I used to come here when I was younger. But that was before everything happened. Being here brings up so many memories. The tears come back to my eyes but I know I can't cry. Anyone could could see and I don't need that. I don't want that. It would defeat the whole purpose of my coming here. It would bring attention to me. I hate attention. It's what brought me to where I am today. My mind, my soul, my heart. I just can't take it anymore. I don't know if I can survive the attention I'm getting now, let alone some more. I live by one motto: no attention is good attention, unless it's none at all. I've learned this over the years and I've learned it quick. Staying in the shadows is the best case scenario. Somehow though, it's like all eyes are on me, even when I try my hardest to stay hidden. I guess you can never stay hidden for long.
I don't know how long I've been here but it's starting to get dark. The stars are coming out of hiding and the sounds of the night can be heard. The sun has begun saying goodbye to everyone. The way the sun sets has always intrigued me. I love the way the sky takes on different shades of red and orange, and on occasion, purple. It truly captures the soul of anyone who has ever looked at a sunset. There's the dark souls represented by the black. The good souls represented by the orange and the hurt souls who represent themselves with red. I'm neither black or orange. I'm not even red. I'm that rare purple sky. The one that is too scared to come show itself all the time but when it does, it amazes the world. Us people who are purple, we are the lost souls.
I keep telling myself I need to get out more and that would be a great idea if I had somewhere to go. I don't have any friends. It's better that way. No one should ever be seen with me. It just wouldn't be fair. I don't want to drag anyone down with me. There's really no place for a girl like me. There never will be. I'm bound to this place. Stuck. No matter how hard I pull, I can't break free. Even with all the people around me, I'm all alone. The silence sometimes tried to suffocate me. If it weren't for the shame and pain I feel every day, I would think I was dead. But no. It's there. It's always there. That slowly burning flame that lights my world. With just a single blow it can all go dark. It can all be over. I think I'm just too much of a coward to go through with things. Another thing I can add to the list of things I hate about myself.
I guess you can say I've lost all hope, but even with all the hope drained from my body, it doesn't stop me from thinking about how my life would have been if things hadn't changed. If the world didn't hate me. I wouldn't have to hide who I am. My life would be livable. Not the lonely, deserted prison it is now.
Seconds tick off the clock, then minutes. I can't sleep. My brain won't let me. I'm all too aware of my surroundings. This is what I hate most about the night. I can never relax 'cause I know at any minute IT could happen. There's no pretending it's all ok. This is life. Not some shitty movie I can barely stand to watch. The pain is real. The feelings are real. No one is going to swoop in and save the day. No one is going to tell me everything is going to be alright. I know it won't. I will forever be scarred. You may not see the wounds but they're there. Every last one of them from the past eight years. Buried deep enough to fool everyone but shallow enough to remember. I'm the only one who can't be fooled by the mask, though it's mostly for me.
Nothing can make life bearable. No person, no thing. It's like I'm dead. Saying a prayer won't take away the memories. If it did, I would have long forgotten about all the things that have happened to me. I wouldn't know about pain and I would be happy.
Memories can only cause pain, whether they are good or not. They take you back to when everything was simple. They remind you how it's no longer that way. That smile that was plastered on your face as a child is not there. Thanks to life, you realize not everything lasts forever. You can't keep things that you love. They always disappear. The crazy thing is that I don't care anymore. My past is just an unshaken Polaroid. I can't even recall my first day of kindergarten. I would be lying if I said I've tried. The only things I remember are the memories of my mom. The only ones I care about.
Whispers come through the house. The echoes I have come to know. I know what's coming. I can't do it tonight. My only escape is to hide. I can only wait for it to be over. Footsteps come closer and closer. They bring with them the one thing called Terror. The creak of my door tells me it's here. As crazy as it sounds, I wish I was out there. I wish I could feel the pain. To just know I'm still alive. I can still remember all the times I stayed to feel the hurt, the emotion. Never have I cried so much. Not since that day. The clouds covered my sunshine. Hid my light. The breath is heavy. I can almost feel it on my body. That feeling is unlike any other. Hot, steamy, angry, drunken breath. Stale with hate. I know it all too well. I hate that breath. That feeling. It disgusts me. Leaves me with no will to live. One word could send me into a prison cell. A spiraling death trap. But it wouldn't want to lose its only form of escape. I just wish it would take me away forever, to a place where I can finally be myself. A place where I'm happy. A place where I'm loved. It's almost over. The "Terror" is almost gone. I will finally be able to release this breath I've been holding. I will never forget the pain I've endured. I will never forget how I got here and I will never forget why I deserve this. Hopefully tonight when I put my head down, I will finally be able to get some sleep.
Everything is peaceful for once. No fear. No pain. I know what this means. It always happens when I hide. He gets mad. I should expect this by now, but every time a little more fear is placed within. What if He finally snaps? What if He takes me within his hands and does away with me. I know I say I want it, but I don't know if I'm ready just yet. Sixteen is a little too young to see the light. Then again, so is thirty-two. Any age under eighty is too young to die. No matter what your plan for life is, it can all be taken away in a blink of an eye. That's why I always try to keep my eyes open. I don't want to miss anything. I've already missed the most important moment of my life. I'm not making that mistake again. People say everything happens for a reason. If it does, tell me why my life has been so fucking miserable. And don't say God has bigger plans for me or wants to see me overcome these obstacles. That's bullshit. It always has been. Always will be. I know that when I step out my bedroom doors the words "where were you, you fucking bitch!" are going to come my way. I've heard them way too many times. I also know it won't be the last. Even with the sting of the words, my body is still numb. I'm used to it now. Yeah, some words hurt more than others, but I don't let my guard down. I don't let the fear show on my face. I won't give him the satisfaction.
Everyone is staring at me and I have no idea why. I made sure to cover up the bruises on my neck. All of the eyes are torture. The heat of them on my skin is sickening. I'm not the type of person to crave attention. My chest is in pain and I can feel my throat closing. My mom always said count to ten and everything will be fine. That doesn't work anymore. Nothing works anymore. I could shed tears, but that would only bring more attention. Besides, I haven't cried since November 17, 2002. The tears just won't come. My body won't let them. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be capable of producing a single drop of salty water from my eyes. But there really is no reason for me to cry. Everything has been said and done. I've already lost my way. No turning back. No second chances. I feel someone grab my arm and before I have time to react, I am dragged into the restroom. I can tell from the smell of Lysol and perfume. The hand releases its grip and I am finally able to catch my breath. I look up to see eyes that could rival even the most decadent chocolate. Before I get a chance to see the face of the person who saved me, they run out of the restroom and all I get a glimpse of is a mess of brown curls. Their speedy departure reminds me that I will forever be...unwanted.