My Life Unplanned

For God commanded, “Honor your Father and your Mother and he who curses Father or Mother let them be put to death (Mathews 15:4)

One of the wheels on my wheelchair was broken. I was painfully aware of this fact as the nurse pushed me down the empty white hallway and a ringing screech followed us. I gripped my hands on the bars to the chair, grimacing as she kept pushing me along ignorant to the sound.

I clawed my fingers and made them into fists, sucking in cooling breaths. Soon it would all be over, I told myself trying to control my major OCD problems.

Finally I was wheeled into the waiting area and I saw my Mother and Father sitting together in two cheap plastic chairs, a religious magazine strewed across both their laps. My mother looked up into my eyes as the nurse wheeled me in and she pressed her lips together, looking away. I looked to my Father, but he wouldn’t even spare a glance.

I stared at him shocked and my mouth hung open. My mother stood up from her chair as if nothing was wrong, kissing her husband’s cheek as if rewarded him for not looking at me. She then approached me, clenching her tiny purse between her fingers.

She bent down to meet my face, a lipstick coated smile etched into her skin as she held my hands in her own. She was terribly warm. “Hello Rosalind.” My heart froze over. My mother never called me Rosalind.

“You’re Father and I will be leaving now, but we are not taking you with us. I believe with all your new friends you can find a ride home, am I correct?” She asked me and I stared at her, my eyes wide as my jaw hung loosely. I had no words.

My mother then gripped my legs tighter, clenching her nails into my legs. She brought her lips to my ear and spoke quietly and rushed so the nurse wouldn’t hear, “If you will not obey God’s will in this situation you will no longer be a daughter of mine. The event of last night never happened. You are as pure as you have ever been and if you mention it to anyone, or act differently than how you were before that night…you will receive the proper punishment for recognizing this act as a sin against yourself. If you were truly innocent in these acts, you should not feel ashamed because this is not your sin and you can be healed. But if you have any guilt then you will suffer in Hell for your discrepancies.” She pulled her face away from me, and I could not help but sob.

My mother’s face had been a mask of no emotion but when she heard that whimper, it grew into an angry frown. “Were you guilty in this act, Rosalind?” She growled into my ear, so loud that even the nurse heard and she coughed nervously.

I closed my eyes as they watered, grinding my teeth so my chin would no quake. I shook my head no, definitely, and my mother released her death grip on my legs, pulling away from me. My eyes flew open as I stared like a lost puppy at her back as she retreated and the nurse helped me from the chair.

I winced at the pain between my legs and my eyes filled with water again as I dropped my chin, the nurse patted circles into my back soothingly and when I looked up I could just see my parents walking out the door of the hospital without even a glance at their daughter.

The nurse gave me a sweatshirt to wear over my nightgown and my mom had brought a pair of faded jeans. I put the clothes on in the sanitary restroom, fumbling around with the buttons with frozen fingers. I could hardly concentrate and every few minutes I would start crying again.

But I refused to think about what my mother said. I didn’t even want to register the fact that she thought I willingly accepted this…horror to be done to me. I didn’t want to think that badly of my mother that she would think badly of me.

When I was finished dressing the nurse offered to take me home, but I told her it was fine I could take the bus. She kindly gave me money to pay for it and the ride was not long before I was standing before my modestly build home with the oak door and paved driveway that still had my name carved into the sidewalk in front of it.

I put my feet over my name, Rosie Turkonowni, and traced the flower I had drawn with my finger, remembering the moment I had done it when I was eight years old and they were just putting in new concrete. By the time someone had noticed it was already too late and my name was forever imprinted into the roadways of suburbia.

I glanced upward, my eyes watering once more and I wiped the tears away again growling at my weakness. What happened yesterday was nothing, I had to ignore it. I bit my lip, nodding to myself when suddenly I felt my stomach convulse and my head pounded angrily. I bent over, clutching my stomach and I heard a door slam, my mother at its entrance.

“Rosalind.” She greeted me stiffly, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes watching me and I looked to the trash can by the street, running to it. I threw open the lid and threw up everything I had into the can.

When I was finished, I lifted my weary head and my mother just stared at me, her eyes extended to their full width. I looked away, wiping my mouth and she snorted, disgusted.

“Are you an animal now Rosalind, perhaps a household bitch?” She questioned and I felt my eyes flood again but I forced them to dry themselves, meeting her eyes.

“No…I’m sorry mother.” I told her, not moving any muscles even though my mouth tasted of stomach acid. I desperately wanted to spit but I knew she would be angry if I did.

“Come inside” She ordered me and I nodded, dropping my head and my mother put her hand on my back, lightly guiding me inside.

Once we were in the entrance hall, I moved to take off my shoes when I noticed the calendar. 7 days had been marked off after the one Friday that said Homecoming. I had stayed in the hospital for nearly a week. I was shocked and stared at the days perplexed, tracing them with my finger disbelievingly.

I looked to my mother warily and she pursed her lips and went into the next room, bringing back a mirror. She handed it to me gingerly and my hands shook as I took it from her, lifting it slowly.

Reflected in the mirror was not the enchanting girl I had seen before Homecoming, this was a disgusting dead creature. Her hair was limp and wet from humidity, clumping around her face in twisted knots and waves. Her skin was as pale as alabaster, her eyes hollow and black with no luminosity. And the most noticeable feature of all was that more than half of her face was covered with purple and bloody bruising, almost making her unrecognizable from the beauty she had been before.

My mouth fell open and instantly I started weeping, reaching my head up to touch the bruise on my cheek and I sobbed as the pain burned through my, blood faintly coating my soft fingers. I lifted my shirt as well, staring at the place that hurt the most on my ribs and I saw a large black bruise that was still bleeding and several smaller bruises all along my stomach. There were also red rings around my wrists, like violent welts made by devilish cuts, and I wondered where else I would find these disgusting marks, tattoos of that night.

I dropped my shirt btu I couldn’t will myself to look her in the eyes again and she shoved me, unexpectedly toward the stares. My chin shot up and I glared at her with hatred burning in my eyes and she glared back, pointing.

“Go to your room. You can’t go to school until you have healed…” My mother hissed, turning her back but I called to her, my voice as weak as a child’s.

“But what about my friend’s…and school…I’ll be behind.” I mumbled almost inaudibly and my mother laughed deeply, not even turning around to look at me in the eye.

“Don’t you remember, Rosalind, you are staying at your grandmother’s house. She’s very sick.” My mother spat, turning her eyes to bare holes into me. Hatred was burned into her eyes as she walked away.

It would have been a great excuse…if I had a grandmother.

“Mom…” I choked out, watching her back and she paused briefly, heaving a sigh.

“What…Rosalind?” She murmured her voice a bit softer and I bit my lip, using that softness to will myself to say what I needed to say.

“I’m sorry…and I love you.” I managed to burst and my mother just laughed. She still didn’t turn and I could see her head shake.

“If you have reason to say you’re sorry then you will never receive my love again.” My mother then swiftly left me.

I crawled to my room like a zombie, to the place that I used to laugh in and doodle in my journal and read. A place that used to make me happy, just made me sick. Seeing all the purple made me think of that night that had already destroyed my life.

I tore down my curtains, threw my bedspread out the window and everything purple that I owned I shoved into closets. Soon my room was bare and I collapsed on my naked bed into a pool of tears.