Fortuitous
Found
“Don’t worry, sweetness, it’ll all be over soon.”
I tried not to remember it.
I did all I could not to remember it.
But like a bad storm, it kept returning to haunt me.
I would have nightmares.
For years, I would wake up in the middle of the night, scared and alone.
I would be terrified that the monsters in the closet would finish the job.
But all they would do was make me remember.
It was dark. It was cold.
There was dirt. It was the soft kind of the dirt.
The kind of dirt that would get into your shoe, like sand at the beach.
It didn’t feel soft that night. It felt like rocks. There were rocks.
Dead grass surrounded us. It was the tall kind of grass.
Not grass, like a lawn. Grass, like a field.
It was a field.
My head hurt. He pulled my hair. He hit my head with a rock.
My back hurt. He pushed me to the ground. He forced the rocks into my back.
My leg hurt. He held my legs down with his. He made a rock dig into my skin.
It was freezing.
I was crying. I was terrified.
My tears were frozen on my face.
All I had on was a thin shirt and pajama pants.
Soon enough, I didn’t even have that.
He took them from me.
He took more than my clothes from me.
And the entire time, he kept whispering his pet name for me in my ear.
I remember pain.
Not just from when I hit my head.
Not just from when rocks tore my skin.
It was from when he tore me apart.
There was a searing pain between my legs.
There was blood all over the dirt and grass.
I remember seeing red.
I was curled up in ball.
I was lying in my own blood.
I looked up when he stood over me when he was through with me.
His red hair was blowing in the wind.
I remember seeing green.
Amongst all the white and yellow dead blades of a grass,
there was one single blade of green.
I looked up at him.
He stared down at me with his green eyes.
I remember black.
The night sky never looked darker.
There were no stars out that night.
They disappeared. He took them.
I passed out.
They found me in the morning, naked and shivering.
A homeless man who usually slept in the field.
He was walking through to find food.
He found me instead.
He found cops.
Cops found paramedics.
Paramedics found doctors.
Doctors found my parents.
My parents found me.
They found me in a hospital bed.
I had never seen my dad cry before that day.
I was eleven years old.
I tried not to remember it.
I did all I could not to remember it.
But like a bad storm, it kept returning to haunt me.
I would have nightmares.
For years, I would wake up in the middle of the night, scared and alone.
I would be terrified that the monsters in the closet would finish the job.
But all they would do was make me remember.
It was dark. It was cold.
There was dirt. It was the soft kind of the dirt.
The kind of dirt that would get into your shoe, like sand at the beach.
It didn’t feel soft that night. It felt like rocks. There were rocks.
Dead grass surrounded us. It was the tall kind of grass.
Not grass, like a lawn. Grass, like a field.
It was a field.
My head hurt. He pulled my hair. He hit my head with a rock.
My back hurt. He pushed me to the ground. He forced the rocks into my back.
My leg hurt. He held my legs down with his. He made a rock dig into my skin.
It was freezing.
I was crying. I was terrified.
My tears were frozen on my face.
All I had on was a thin shirt and pajama pants.
Soon enough, I didn’t even have that.
He took them from me.
He took more than my clothes from me.
And the entire time, he kept whispering his pet name for me in my ear.
I remember pain.
Not just from when I hit my head.
Not just from when rocks tore my skin.
It was from when he tore me apart.
There was a searing pain between my legs.
There was blood all over the dirt and grass.
I remember seeing red.
I was curled up in ball.
I was lying in my own blood.
I looked up when he stood over me when he was through with me.
His red hair was blowing in the wind.
I remember seeing green.
Amongst all the white and yellow dead blades of a grass,
there was one single blade of green.
I looked up at him.
He stared down at me with his green eyes.
I remember black.
The night sky never looked darker.
There were no stars out that night.
They disappeared. He took them.
I passed out.
They found me in the morning, naked and shivering.
A homeless man who usually slept in the field.
He was walking through to find food.
He found me instead.
He found cops.
Cops found paramedics.
Paramedics found doctors.
Doctors found my parents.
My parents found me.
They found me in a hospital bed.
I had never seen my dad cry before that day.
I was eleven years old.