I'm Not Crazy, Really

Everything was pitch black. I was vaguely aware of a dull beeping sound. My body was too weak to move, and I felt a dull throbbing pain on the back of my skull. I struggled to open my eyes, but they were too heavy and it felt like someone had glued them shut.

I tried to concentrate on the outside world. I heard a tapping, and it sounded like footsteps. I heard quiet whisperings, and I struggled to make out the words. It was a woman’s voice.

“She hit her head pretty hard, and she has several injuries and lacerations, but in a few weeks, she should be able to go home. We expect her to wake up soon, and she’s most likely already starting to become aware of her surroundings.”

I heard another voice, more manly. I thought it might be my dad. “So if we talk to her, she can hear and understand us?”

“Yes most likely.” Responded the woman. “I can leave for a few minutes if you want to talk to her privately.”

“Yes. I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

I heard the woman walk away, and the sound of a sliding door being shut.

“I know you can hear me.” My father was talking to me. “If you ever tell anyone about what happened, you will regret it for the rest of your life. So keep your mouth shut. Because I will find out if you told anyone, and I’m not afraid to kill you.” I heard his retreating footsteps, and the door slide open and shut again.

My eyes struggled to open, but I was still too weak. I could hear my head pounding, and it hurt. I listened to the constant beeping in the distance, and I became less aware of the throbbing pain in my head and throughout my body.

After what felt like hours, my eyelids slowly fluttered open. Everything was so bright at first and the light hurt my sensitive eyes. I squinted and strained my eyes so they would open.

Everything was white. It looked so dull and boring. I slowly sat up, careful not to hurt my aching body. I was in the hospital. I looked around and took in more of my surroundings. The beeping noise I had heard earlier was a heart monitor. It was still beeping steadily and I lost my focus and became immersed in the beeping and the waves moving up and down, tracking the rhythm of my heart. My mind drifted to the memories, and I lost touch with reality.

The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was my father on top of me. I remember I fell and hit my head on the brick walls, and he took advantage of my weakness of not being able to fight back.

I gasped as I realized it was no nightmare. It was real. It actually happened. He raped me. The man who was supposed to love me and protect me, had hurt me. A tear slid down my cheek and I felt my heart sink. I didn’t know what to do. I heard his warning, but what if he did it again?

The door slid open and a nurse walked in. I quickly wiped away my tears and tried to look more presentable.

“I see you’re up sweetheart. How are you feeling?” I recognized her voice as the woman who was talking to my father before when I was still unconscious.

“I..” I tried to talk but it came out in a dry crackly voice. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Why am I here?” I asked her.

“You were running in the alleyway when you fell and hit your head. Your father was looking for you and he found you unconscious. He saved your life. You’re lucky to have him.

I felt my face burn up in fury. Lies…all lies. That son of a bitch hurt me and he was going to get away with it. The steady beeping of the monitor lost it’s constant pace and became more rapid to match my anger.

“Are you all right? Your heart rate is going up.”

“Fine.” I said through clenched teeth.

“You’re probably just under a lot of stress. The last few days must be a lot for you to take in. Waking up from a coma is usually stressful at first.”

I nodded, but in my head I was screaming at her. How could she not know? How could she let him get away?

The door opened again, and my father stepped in. A panicked gaze struck my face.

“I’ll leave you guys here. I’m going to go check on some other patients. Press that button if you need help with anything.” the nurse gestured to a button next to my bed and left.

My father walked closer to me and I pushed myself as far back as I could go. He sat down on the bed and sighed.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” He began, “but you get me so upset, sometimes I just lose control. When you make me angry, I drink which makes me even more angry. If you never got in trouble, none of this would have happened. It’s all your fault, you’re so stupid. Don’t make me like that anymore.” He waited a few seconds. “Got that…bitch?”

I nodded weakly.

“Good,” he said, “because if you do something like that again, that would mess everything up and you would have no one to blame but yourself.” He got off my bed and left my room, leaving me to think about what he said.

I was scared, Scared of what might happen, of what he might do, and scared for my life. My eyes watered and the tears streamed down my face as a wretched sob escaped my throat. I lay on my hospital bed and cried myself to sleep, as I had done many times before, but this time, the reason was so much worse.