Chapter 3-Well laid plans
It's after school, and he's here again. My parents trusted me to walk home from the bus stop and call when I got there, and soon after I arrived he showed up. I don't like it when he's here, but I can't say anything, I'm only in kindergarten, and I have been taught to respect my elders. He keeps telling me that it will only take a second, and that we need to hurry up so that we can keep the secret before my parents get home. I am paralyzed with fear. This is supposed to be someone to look after me, and this is wrong. Why does this man not see this? He carries me into my parents' bedroom and closes the door behind him. I close my eyes and pray that somehow I am spared whatever is going to happen next, for I know that it won't be good. He keeps talking to me, saying what a pretty girl I am, but most of what he says is lost with my inner prayers screamed in my head. I feel his weight on the mattress, and the next sensation feels like he has jumped off the highest diving board at the pool right onto me. I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent my screams, tasting the bitter metallic of fresh blood from where I have broken the flesh of my cheek. I keep saying 'No no no' in my head, begging someone to hear me, to stop this, to make this suffering end. The scene changes from its previous reel to a fading blackness, bright blue eyes boring into my skull and the words 'Never again' are said by a voice filled with rage.
I woke up with a start, my heart hammering in my chest and covered in sweat. It's warm, too warm, and I know it's because I have been thrashing around trying to escape the memory. I hate this memory the most, and I hate that it still holds my mind prisoner to its frequent replay. What the hell was that last part about? It's never ended like that, and I take a moment to process it while I slow my breathing.
A quick look at the alarm clock says that I have yet again managed to not sleep in, despite having cocktails and coming home after 2:00 am. Seven is a little too heavy for this trip down memory lane, so after a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen myself up, I grab my iPod and look for my playlist I made for mornings like this. I have seen a few therapists to help me cope, and one of the best techniques was to use what I love to put myself in a better mind set when this happens. Getting mad doesn't help, and playing a victim for the rest of my life doesn't work, so I make playlists. I select 'Nightmare' and let the music and lyrics soothe what nothing else can.
Ready To Go (Get Me Out Of My Mind) Panic! At The Disco
Not Afraid Eminem
My Body Young the Giant
Shake It Out Florence + The Machine
Where's your head at Basement Jaxx
I press play, and immediately charged enough to make my way to the kitchen and scramble up some eggs and toast. While I am whipping up the eggs and chopping vegetables, I replay the last part of the nightmare to see if I can sort out the new ending. Of course the 'Never again' could have been my subconscious trying to shut the replay down, but I can't help shake the eyes. I've only told my closest girlfriends and the therapists about the incident and subsequent nightmares. The eyes and the rage added to the terror, but I also felt some peace with them, for the change of scenery. By the time the eggs are almost done and the toast is on the plate "My Body" is in full swing. "My body tells me no, but I won't quit, 'cause I want more". This has the same effect every time. I start rolling my ankles, standing in the kitchen while I am eating, stretching and re-living some of the more humorous events from the previous evening. I said 'Holy shit' and chuckled as I finished my breakfast, shaking my head that there is someone who actually tattooed that on his stomach. What a moron. I flash briefly to the weird encounter with Edward at the end of the night, and my chest tightens a little bit knowing that I will be seeing him this evening.
After washing my dishes from breakfast, Florence + The Machine is in full swing.
"…and it's hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake it out, shake it out…"
I decide that if I am up this early, then I might as well do something with all this happy energy. I check JaKe's website to confirm that there are no Sunday morning classes. There is a dance room upstairs that accommodates group boxing classes and Zumba a few times a week for the after work crowd for people working in downtown. I'm in luck when I see that this Sunday is wide open. I know Jason is an early riser just like me, so I sent him a quick text:
"Good morning! Thanks for meeting up with us last night. Is it cool if I take up space and make some noise in the dance room this morning?"
His response was almost immediate: "Didn't u get enuf of that last nite? HA. No worries. C U soon"
I will never get used to 'texting', and I roll my eyes at the abbreviations. While I am changing my clothes and finishing the morning ritual, I hear 'where's your head at?' and I am forced to wonder the same thing. Where indeed?