It's All In Your Head

The sun is streaming in through the windows, peeking out through the cracks in the blinds. Mommy and Daddy are gone. I was crying before because I thought that they were leaving me here and were never coming back. I thought that they didn’t want me anymore. Even though they always say I’m a big girl and they love me and they would never leave me, even though I knew these things, I still cried. I still stared out the window, waiting for the car to turn the corner and for them to return home. I waited for them to pick me up and hug me and kiss me and tell me, “Everything’s going to be okay, Iya. We’re here and we’re never going away.” I feel as if I’ve never been more scared in my life, but I know that they’re gonna come back. They have to. They said they would, after all. Right?

He lifted me up and said the words I wanted to hear. But now I can’t remember any of them. I can’t remember what words he used, how many syllables. I can’t even hear the disjointed sentences. Just his voice, his lips moving. It’s all white noise and I can’t make any of it out. But I know he made me feel better. He stood in front of the mirror by my closet door and pointed at our reflections. My face is streaked with tears, my hair is chopped short, and he looks like a giant, holding me there and telling me it’s all going to be okay. I can’t recognize the person looking back at me now. I’m some other little girl. This girl doesn’t exist.

Just like that, my tears are gone and I’m alone again, but this time I’m not scared. I’m not crying about it. I just want to play with my toys and wait for Mommy and Daddy to come home. I’m going to be right there when they arrive. They’ll tell me I’m being a good girl, playing quietly and not causing any trouble.

My brother is in the living room, lost in whatever TV show or movie he is watching. The sun is still shining. It’s late afternoon. This was always my favorite time of the day, the main reason why summer is my favorite season. It seems as if the sun will shine forever and it makes everything that much more beautiful. It’s got to be past five pm, but I don’t wonder about the time. I just keep playing.

And suddenly I hear something behind me, but I don’t turn around. Because I just don’t care. I’m back in my own world and I don’t care.

And then I see hands, fingers. Calloused hands, chubby fingers, ruddy skin, big arms. Giant arms. A giant trying to wrap me into a warm embrace? Only it doesn’t feel like it right now. Pushing away those boundaries, crossing that invisible line, he’s in me now. He’s taking control and he knows that I belong to him now. At this very second, I’m all his. Suddenly every little detail in this room screams at me. The dust particles in the air, dancing in that stream of sunlight, the hair on his arms, how dark his skin is, how strange this feels, how the cool metal of the bunk bed feels against my side. I’m leaning up against it, trying to look for some kind of support, physically and mentally. And he’s still there and this is strange and I don’t understand, and I just want to understand, and I’m so confused and I can’t make head or tails of this.

And then it’s all gone. It’s all black and it disappears and it’s nothing, I am nothing once again, I don’t exist anymore. Or maybe I do. Somehow, somewhere. There’s a little girl out there, crying out, but I can’t see her. I can’t grab her hand. She just wants some help, but she’s trapped. Trapped in that world, trapped in this moment. Time freezes and she’s stuck. She can’t get out. He’s still there, and he’s still the one calling the shots right now, and she still belongs to him. And, God, she just wants to get the fuck out. She’s begging someone to wake her up, get her out, tell her to come out now. Come back to us now, baby.

Strange sensations, none of which are familiar. They’re nonexistent, just like the pictures in my head. Nightmares being played over and over again like a repeating song, a word someone can’t stop saying, a thought that thumps not only in your mind, but in your chest, against your rib cage and ultimately trying to suffocate you. He’s gone, but that spirit is still there. The shadow in the room lurks on the wall, outside my window, his eyes boring into mine and burning a hole in me. I can detect the faint smell of burning flesh. Burning, God, I’m burning. And he’s still got a hold of me. He’s still in control and I am all his. I can still hear the edge in his voice, rough like sandpaper.

I’m crying for Mommy and Daddy once more. I want them to come back to me like they promised they would. But I’m alone and it’s still dark and confusing, and I still don’t understand any of it. And it can’t be real. It disappeared so long ago and it’s back, it’s back. And I try to tell myself it’s not real, it’s just a story you made up, but this empty, cold feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me otherwise.

I can still feel that burning flesh. It rots and decays and the maggots are under my skin now, eating away at me. Eating me alive. And I scratch at my arms, but they’re still under me and I can’t get them out. And I’m screaming and crying but no one can hear me, and I’m afraid that he’s going to hear me. Every scream feels like a pair of hands around my throat, twisting my windpipe, big, chubby, rough, dark hands with giant arms.

Ten years later and I still don’t recognize the girl in the mirror. Twenty years later and I still don’t know her. Is she still a girl? Will she ever be one again? Will she ever be a woman?

She can’t forget this, try as she might. Every time she tries to fill that hole, it all comes back to her, and the world goes black again. And then she’s trapped. All over again that movie plays, that same song is repeated, that same word, same sentences, same syllables are all being repeated. And this isn’t love. This isn’t protection. It’s a ploy. The monster is still alive, it still exists. It exists inside of me. And I’d like to think that I didn’t cause this all myself. But if I didn’t, then I’ve been defeated. He crossed that line and snatched that little girl. And he didn’t pay attention to her screams, he ignored her crying. And now this bigger girl is just wandering in this broken dream, this distorted world, trying to find her other half. She’s just a shell now. She doesn’t belong anywhere, this girl. She can’t seem to find this little girl that she’s searching for, little Iya.

And she can’t ask anybody where this girl has gone, because no one knows she’s missing. They left her with him. Left her right there and he took her.

And he’s still holding her, trying to stop those tears, holding her tiny body close to his.

And she’s still waiting for Mommy and Daddy to come back. She’ll stay there and play with her toys until they come home, until they come for her. Because although she may not exist anymore, although she may be a ghost now, she still hopes that they’ll think of her as a good little girl, not causing any trouble.

And I can’t sleep anymore. Not now, not ever. I’m still watching those shadows dance on the walls, still trying to ignore those searching eyes, trying not to let them burn me.

And I’d like to think that it wasn’t my fault. But every time I try to tell the story, repeat the song, say that same sentence, those same words, those same syllables, a hand covers my mouth. And I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. My vocal chords have vanished, along with my heart, my lungs, my brain, and I am just a hollow shell on the inside. Nothing coming in or out. And I’m still trying to find my way out of the dark, on my hands and knees, looking for that light at the end of the tunnel. Until the lights flicker and short out. And I belong to him once more. And I will always be his.

And slowly I disintegrate. Nothing but a pile of ash and bones, nothing on the inside or out. Nothing for the rest of my life.