Hurt Beneath My Skin
smiling on the outside
"Rae!"
I flinched at the sound of my name, looking up from my homework at my mother, who leaned heavily against the door to my bedroom. I was sitting at my desk, doing my english homework. An opinion piece on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. "Yeah?" I answered sullenly resisting the urge to glare at her. She was drunk again. I could see the stain of her latest purge on her stomach and chest. "The dishwasher." My mother intoned without emotion.
"What about it?"
"It's full."
I rolled my eyes at her obvious answer. Of course it was. "Full of what, Mom? Kittens, ponies, mon-" The flat back of her hand found my cheek, and with a yelp I fell back from my chair onto the floor. I had been abused by my mother for a while now; when my father had walked out on us when I was seven was when she started drinking, and when I turned ten she started beating me. Of course, it wasn't because she hated me as a person. She hated me because I was the result of my father fucking her. I was his, and his alone.
"Don't be such a smart ass. Empty the fucking 'washer or else." Was all she growled at me before she stomped off to do whatever; probably drink herself to sleep again. I got back onto my chair but couldn't see my homework past the thick veil of tears in my eyes. I hated crying. Crying meant I was weak, and it meant I wasn't worth anything to anyone. I looked at my drawer and swallowed back the tears and the feelings of self-hatred. I had inflicted enough pain upon my mother and myself to let this continue.
That was the first time I tried to kill myself.
"Rae, wake up."
I didn't realize I was crying until I woke up. One of the elderly attendants sat on the edge of my bed, a glass of warm milk and sleeping medication on a metal tray. "Rae, honey... are you okay?" She asked me, stroking back my sweat-drenched bangs with the back of her hand. I flinched at her touch, pushed the covers off of me and stood up. "I'm just going to the bathroom," I told her, my voice thick. "Okay, honey. I'll leave this here, then. Do you want the pills?"
Did I want them? Yes. I wanted to stockpile them and drink them all down one night so I could finally get the sleep I needed.... permanently. "No... I'm still tired." I told her against my better judgement as I went into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Since I was a suicide risk, the attendant got to her feet and knocked on the door just as I was pushing my pants down. "Crack the door, Rae. I know it sucks, but you know the rules."
Rules. Right. Suicide risks can't do anything on their own, and they were the only ones who got to sleep with windows in their doors, and had camera's in their rooms. I pulled my pants up half heartedly, opened the door, then returned to do my business. Peeing in front of someone wasn't as embarrassing as it could be. I knew all the angles to hide myself behind and as long as I kept my hands infront of me, the nurse or attendant wouldn't watch.
I returned to my bedroom and climbed into bed, waiting until the nurse had gone before I squeezed my eyes closed. I had to sleep. I needed to sleep. But, I knew I wouldn't get a single hour now that the fresh thought of my mother was on my mind.
Where was Brian when you needed him?
I flinched at the sound of my name, looking up from my homework at my mother, who leaned heavily against the door to my bedroom. I was sitting at my desk, doing my english homework. An opinion piece on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. "Yeah?" I answered sullenly resisting the urge to glare at her. She was drunk again. I could see the stain of her latest purge on her stomach and chest. "The dishwasher." My mother intoned without emotion.
"What about it?"
"It's full."
I rolled my eyes at her obvious answer. Of course it was. "Full of what, Mom? Kittens, ponies, mon-" The flat back of her hand found my cheek, and with a yelp I fell back from my chair onto the floor. I had been abused by my mother for a while now; when my father had walked out on us when I was seven was when she started drinking, and when I turned ten she started beating me. Of course, it wasn't because she hated me as a person. She hated me because I was the result of my father fucking her. I was his, and his alone.
"Don't be such a smart ass. Empty the fucking 'washer or else." Was all she growled at me before she stomped off to do whatever; probably drink herself to sleep again. I got back onto my chair but couldn't see my homework past the thick veil of tears in my eyes. I hated crying. Crying meant I was weak, and it meant I wasn't worth anything to anyone. I looked at my drawer and swallowed back the tears and the feelings of self-hatred. I had inflicted enough pain upon my mother and myself to let this continue.
That was the first time I tried to kill myself.
"Rae, wake up."
I didn't realize I was crying until I woke up. One of the elderly attendants sat on the edge of my bed, a glass of warm milk and sleeping medication on a metal tray. "Rae, honey... are you okay?" She asked me, stroking back my sweat-drenched bangs with the back of her hand. I flinched at her touch, pushed the covers off of me and stood up. "I'm just going to the bathroom," I told her, my voice thick. "Okay, honey. I'll leave this here, then. Do you want the pills?"
Did I want them? Yes. I wanted to stockpile them and drink them all down one night so I could finally get the sleep I needed.... permanently. "No... I'm still tired." I told her against my better judgement as I went into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Since I was a suicide risk, the attendant got to her feet and knocked on the door just as I was pushing my pants down. "Crack the door, Rae. I know it sucks, but you know the rules."
Rules. Right. Suicide risks can't do anything on their own, and they were the only ones who got to sleep with windows in their doors, and had camera's in their rooms. I pulled my pants up half heartedly, opened the door, then returned to do my business. Peeing in front of someone wasn't as embarrassing as it could be. I knew all the angles to hide myself behind and as long as I kept my hands infront of me, the nurse or attendant wouldn't watch.
I returned to my bedroom and climbed into bed, waiting until the nurse had gone before I squeezed my eyes closed. I had to sleep. I needed to sleep. But, I knew I wouldn't get a single hour now that the fresh thought of my mother was on my mind.
Where was Brian when you needed him?