SCARRED

Ladies and gents, a road has led us to this particular space. Behold, a place where you can unveil whatever you want and receive no judgement. Truthfully, I'm scared to pull out the knives because I will bleed out. Then again, letting them stay put would render me immobile. Either way, the presence of seething pain is as much as a promise as blinking is. So, here we go. Switch off the Telly, tone the music a few notches down, put your reading glasses on and listen..

We all have that one thing that we are terrified of reliving. A moment in time that lasted lifetimes. The thought might roll in once in a while and your guard in turn will go all the way up. Whether you like it or not, it will always be with you. Hovering over you whenever you find yourself in an (imagined) almost similar situation. Prickling, nibbling, stabbing and screaming to be acknowledged..

Painting a picture..

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An eight year old girl dresses up in the afternoon and goes to her mother's room to ask for permission to go out and play. Her Mother,half asleep, tells her that it's okay for her to go if her Father says she can go. She goes to her Father's study and asks him if it was okay to go out and play. He says that she may go but she was to be back home in two hours..

She basically skips to the front door and races down to the states. Outside, she scans the groups of playing children in pursuit of her best friend, Lavender. Since she couldn't find her, she decides to go to her house and ask her if she would come out to play..

At Lavender's house, she finds her older brother, Brian. Who claims that Lavender has gone with their mother to the shop but invites her to sit and wait for their return. The girl props herself  up and sits on the seat nearest to the door, waiting for her friend..

Brian calls out from beyond the corridor about something the girl couldn't quite hear. After asking him to repeat over and over again,she decides to get up and go closer to see if she could hear him properly. In an instance,the girl's hand is grabbed roughly and she's being pulled into a room where the dark and thick curtains are yet to be drawn..

Instinctively, her heart begins to race and her sweaty palms become even more clummy. The door behind them is shut and the key in the key  hole is turned to an assertive lock. She asks to be let in on what was happening, when Lavender would be coming back, why she was here, asking to leave. Saying she wanted to leave. Brian made no efforts answering her questions. In fact, he had dedicated all his efforts and concentration elsewhere..

The room was dark, but not dark enough to see that Brian was getting out of his pants in a haste. Revealing his repulsive lower half. By default, the girl began screaming and a huge hand was instantly over her mouth, stifling her screams which were more of panic than of help..

Pushed onto an unmade bed, with the body weight of a boy in his late teens forcing her to stay still as he tried to pull down her stockings with the hand that was not over her mouth. A girl has never been that scared - terrified in her life, tears filled her eyes and fought to spill , overlapping, running down her then red cheeks. She tried to bite his palm, to push and wiggle out of his grip but he had a decade and a gender's worth of strength. Still, tears and tears, still, wishing for death..

Back home, bathed and in dark clothes that would later be set at the bottom of the laundry busket. Her dress and stockings in a black paper bag, already hid under piles of rubbish in the bin. Her mother still asleep,her father still in the study. She decides to act sick,she felt sick and hurt and bruised. With the scratches  and marks from the grip that boy turned  monster had on her  all covered by her clothes for she did not care to show them off . She went to bed,she stayed in bed and she cried hoping when she opened her eyes it would be a very very very bad dream. Regretting, wishing she never had to go to play in the first place. Hoping her parents would notice something was wrong..

They did not. Mother was either at work or asleep. Father was either at work or in his study. However,her Aunty (the househelp) had noticed. The stained clothes and sheets that the girl would go on to put in soapy water on her own. Aunty asked her parents to talk to her and they did. Only, when a girl came clean about what had happened, they didn't believe her. They decided that she hurt herself playing and was scared to admit it. Her Father had to punish her for "lying" and "watching 'bad TV' " and took away her screen privileges..

She grew up withdrawn. Pron to loneliness. A decade later, the idea still repulses her. Even a brush against her arm or leg sends her back to that afternoon all images and actions replaying over again in the most tangible way. The agony as real as the raising beat of her heart.  Living with it since then has never been easy. Her truth suppressed . It being her deepest secret , she has never ever told a soul. Until today..

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It's funny how your mind can choose to torture you. With the the memories it holds. Putting you back in the exact moments you'd rather not live. Yet, all your senses subconsciously comply..

There are things we would like to 'unexperience' to 'unfeel' to never remember. Unfortunately, it's forged in us. It is literally a part of us. A part of who we are. A part of what I am and it makes me hate me and I hate that. I hate it..