You always call me
and ask me how I make it through the day
I'm always fallin'
I guess it's just god's way of making me pay
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When I was little, we used to have this cabinet in our kitchen that wasn't really used for anything, it was just another empty space in our house. We barely had enough money to fill the larger spaces like the living room or our bedrooms, let alone a small cabinet tucked in a far corner of the room that no one even noticed was there.
When my parents began fighting before my dad was taken away, I would try to get them to stop, I didn't want our family to turn out like all the others around us. There was nothing more pathetic than seeing two grown adults having screaming fights with each other while their five year old son was crying for them to stop. When they finally got tired of their fights being interrupted by a small voice begging them to stop, they decided to quiet it with a harsh slap to the face, one from each of them.
I can still feel the burning sting of their palms hitting my face, their cold eyes telling me to bug off and to stop wasting their air. It wasn't too long after that that the small empty cabinet became occupied. When they would fight, I would crawl into it and close the door, making sure it was closed tightly before pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs, whispering mantras to myself to try and block out the sound of their yelling, and the harsh words to each other.
The day the cops came to take my dad away I was hiding in the cabinet, my eyes burning with tears after one of the officers asked mom if anyone else was in the house, and she simply replied 'no', the tone in her voice making it clearly evident that she didn't even realize that I still existed at that moment. I heard my dad shouting at the cops, trying to struggle in their grasp, and the only thing I did was curl up further into the back of the darkened space, trying to hold my sobs back so that no one would know I was there.
It wasn't until almost three days later that I finally came out of the cabinet, three days since mom had left right after dad, and no one had come back since. I felt forgotten, like I didn't even exist, not until I fell asleep curled up in bed that night, and woke up the next morning with Trey sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on the wall in front of him, not even noticing me open my eyes.
"Trey… they left us."
My words caught in my throat, making them sound choked and strangled, and Trey slowly turned his head in my direction, his expression unreadable in my young age. He nodded his head, not trusting his voice at the moment, and I just stared at him, expecting him to answer every single question that was running through my head without me having to even ask. He just stared though, stared at me, at the sheets below me, the wall, anywhere that his eyes could land on. It seemed like hours before he finally got up and left the room, not saying anything as he used what little food we had left in the house to make us some food to eat.
After that, he left me to, told me he was going to try and find some more money and food. The second he left, I climbed back into the cabinet and fell asleep, staying there for who knows how long before I heard the loud yelling of two people arguing. One voice I had recognized as my mothers drunken one right away, the other wasn't identifiable until he left and I climbed out of the cabinet, quietly asking mom who it was that she was arguing with moments ago. It had only been a few days since dad was taken away, and mom had already began looking for men to take care of her, provide her with the drugs and alcohol she needed to survive.
That one guy that I saw through the small slit in the cabinet door was only to be one of many boyfriends of hers to come, each of them taking as much of me as they pleased, leaving me broken and battered in the cabinet where I cried myself to sleep in the darkness.
After a while, when I got too big for the cabinet, I started hiding in the closet where it was once again empty, all of the money we could have used for clothes going to feed moms many addictions. Drugs, alcohol, sex, you name it, she had to have it. When I hid in that cabinet, or the closet, everything around me seemed to disappear, all the noise, anger, and abuse just seemed to vanish into nothing, until I was forced to come out to get food or use the restroom.
The first few weeks I stayed at the Cohen's, I spent most nights sleeping in the closet, the space more confined since there we sheets and clothes in it, most of the clothes provided for me by the Cohen's that I hadn't even considered wearing. They never caught me sleeping in the closet, something I've always been thankful for, so on the occasions since moving here that I've felt the need to disappear from the world, I would slip into the closet once I knew everyone was asleep and set the alarm on my watch so that I would be able to wake up before anyone else.
This darkness that I'm surrounded by right now, the darkness that's consumed me for only god knows how long reminds me of the cabinet back in Chino, and the closet in the pool house. It's like my mind has found it's own little secret hiding place within the depths of my head, a place where voices are filtered out and pain is an unheard of concept. Every few minutes or so I feel someone squeezing my hand, and it's actually slightly comforting, knowing I can still feel things and that I'm not completely shut off from the outside world, not that I actually want to be a part of it anymore.
Weighing the options in my hands, being with the living where I have no family, no home, and no chance for an actual future, and living with the dead, having to deal with my mother at every second for the rest of eternity, I think this is the best decision. I think I've found a permanent cabinet inside my mind, one with a lock and no key so that there's no chance of someone getting into my protective space.
I know they're trying, I feel the pokes in my arms from the needles and the drugs entering my system, but they never get past the barriers I've crawled into, my safe haven that I've built around myself. I don't want to face any of them, see any of their let down and disappointed expressions. I just want things to go back to the way they were when I was younger, when mom and dad would get along, when Trey seemed like the perfect brother that I could always look up to, when things just all seemed so much more simple.
I see a small flicker of something in the dark around me, something far in the distance that catches my eyes, and I carefully get out of the corner I've been sitting in, taking cautious steps as I see the flash again. It looks like the glint of light off of something metal, and I feel my heart beat rapidly speeding up in my chest as I get closer, noticing the needle in someone's hand standing in the dark shadows.
This isn't happening, I know this isn't happening. No one was supposed to find me here, no one was supposed to be able to get in here like this. I slowly start backing up away from the person, hoping that he won't notice me close by, but it doesn't work as his head snaps up and he holds the needle up, taking a step towards me and causing me to turn and use all of my strength to run. There's a mental door nearby that I run into, slamming it closed and resting my back against it with all my strength as the voice of the person echoes throughout my mind.
"Ryan…. I know you're scared… but we're not going to hurt you."
His voice is calm, a little too calm, and I feel the wet tracks making their way down my cheeks as I push harder against the door, trying to shut out the voice coming from the other side and trying to get my mind to return to it's safe haven that it created before. I watch the doorknob turn shakily, and I jump to the other side of the small enclosed room, my eyes glittering with tears as a faint light begins to outline the edge of the door.
I sink to the floor and pull my knees to my chest, quietly telling the person to stop as I close my eyes tightly and bury them in my folded arms. After a few moments of quietness, I slowly open my burning eyes, closing them quickly when I'm blinded by a bright light.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and I cry out loudly, trying to shrug away from it but not getting far as someone quietly says my name again, forcing me to slowly open my eyes again to the darker room, a familiar face hovering over mine, trying to stay in my line of sight. I try to pull away from the grasp of the person touching me, but something's holding my wrists down, keeping me firm against the bed that I'm laying on.
"Ryan, please calm down. No one's going to hurt you, you're safe here."
The voice is pleading as much as his eyes are, and I try to take a deep breath, anger burning in my eyes from being dragged out of my safe place and back into one of the last places I ever want to be. He tries to touch my cheek, wipe away the tears, but I force him away and close my eyes, trying to force myself back into the darkness, trying to find that safe spot away from everybody.
"Open your eyes Ryan, we need you to stay awake so you can get better."
"There's nothing wrong with me, I just want to go back, why did you bring me back here?"
I know I sound like a child screaming at him, but it doesn't stop me. No one was supposed to find me, I was supposed to be safe, and now…. Now I have absolutely no where to go. For the first time, I didn't let anyone else down, I let myself down.
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Last chapter seemed to be pretty popular, either that or it could have been the fact that I finally realized my reviews were set to only accept ff.net users only… oops. Thx for pointing that out to me benzbabidoll. Hope this chapter didn't confuse anyone, I know where this is going, it's just taking a bit of effort getting there. =P Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up by next weekend, but I don't plan on being sober next weekend…. So we'll have to see how that goes.
benzbabidoll: Don't worry, he's going to come around, it just might not be to the Cohen's… if that makes sense. Thx for signing in to review. Lol.
muchtvs: He just happened upon him.
The House: Telling me to make a character calm down is like telling me to stop writing. Lol. I've written 40 fics, and I like to focus on the mind, twisting it a little bit. It's loads of fun to make people crazy.
Gator-Girl: It was only a few hours. Lol. And I'll explain a little more about the Cohen's in the next few chapters.
Gibasi: You had to wait less than a day, everyone else has been waiting a whole week. You've got it lucky for this chapter. Lol.
Everyone Else: Thanks for reviewing. You guys Rock!