All I want is to feel whole. That is all any of us wants I suppose, but if I am completely honest with myself, I am mostly preoccupied with my first thought of the morning. It is the same thought every morning. Why cant I just feel beautiful. I wake up every morning trapped in a body that I did not want. A road map of purple and white lines wrap around my body like rivers, thick grooves pour down my sides and seep behind the cotton elastic waist of my granny panties. Stomach, back, calves, thighs, arms, ass. Scars that run so deep they have left gouges in my sanity. Each one is filled with his charm, his smile, his excuses for not understanding that no means no. A fourteen year old girl, thin black hair, painfully emaciated and awkward hiding in a cocoon of black polyester. She met him with his friends at a small town fair. Sweat poured from her armpits down the sides of her shirt as they spoke. A boy had never talked to her before, looked at her with interest, ignored the overlapped front teeth, the flat chest, the broken home. He was forgotten after a month however, buried under a summer vacation at the local pool and sneaking out to party with a group of seniors.
One week after freshman year started the call came. Home alone again while her father stayed out drinking all the vodka the county had to offer, she spent most evenings reading in the cluttered one bedroom house with every light on, in high school and still afraid of the dark. It all happened so fast...or in slow motion, it is hard to tell when your heart is racing, your stomach is in knots, your palms itch and you cant see straight. That is how the first call went. For eight hours they talked to the moon and back. He was so smooth and overwhelming.
They started taking walks together. She didn't trust him, nor any man for that matter. A rusted pair of gardening shears weighed down her cargo pants, like a warm bath after a long day they comforted her on these outings, ensured he wouldn't get too frisky. the hours stretch across each of their lives, intersecting and flowing together. Eventually the walks turned into meeting at his house (her house was in shambles and this caused her immense anxiety) Inseparable first love is what the parents saw. Labeled as soul mates by their peers. All she saw at first was his beautiful face. For months she was blinded by his charming smile, straight white teeth, slim body. She didn't notice the abuse, not at first.
Well, that isn't completely true now is it? The truth is she had no where else to go. Alone in that crackerbox house filled with trash and vermin. A father that would spend the days drinking bloody marys and masturbating in front of the living room computer and nights passed out, covered in his own sick. She would clean him up, wipe away the red after it had pooled and crusted in his neck folds. cover his naked body when he wet himself on the couch. No one was there. No, he was the only way out in her mind. So she turned a blind (black) eye to the rage...
( Picture of me about age 8 with my brother)
