It was a sunny April afternoon. Birds were chirping, and the flowers were more brilliant than ever. I was walking down the sidewalk, head down and hood up. My fists were clenched so tight, my fingernails were digging into my palms.
One step after another, I had to convince myself to keep going. My destination wasn’t far. As long as I didn’t stop, it was about ten more minutes. I was walking slowly, so maybe fifteen. That didn’t change the fact that I was about to snap. I needed her. I needed to keep going.
Suddenly, I ran into someone. I shrugged it off and mumbled an apology. I didn’t have the patience to stop.
“Hey, wait!” I heard behind me. I stopped and turned around to see a stranger in a white polo and cargo shorts. Great, a prep. Just what I needed.
“What do you want?” I was holding back tears.
“Um.. I… Just wanted to know which way the park was. I’m new to the neighborhood,”
“Oh… Take a left at the next intersection and it’ll be on your right a little bit down the road. Sorry for running into you,”
“It’s all good. By the way, I love your shirt! That band’s one of my favorites,” I looked down to see my Starset tee. I laughed quietly, not loud enough for the stranger to notice. A prep with a good taste in music? Impossible. That aside, I smiled at them and kept walking. One foot in front of the other, I was getting there. Sometimes, I wonder why I do this… There’s a much easier solution hidden in my bathroom. I’m sure one swig would be enough. I wouldn’t want to waste the bleach on my worthless self, after all. Yet I keep going. Maybe I do it for her? I don’t know. My stomach was churning from anxiety. After a few more steps, I needed to stop. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. So, I sat on the curb, cradled my head in my hands and rivers of salt water began rushing down my pale cheeks. I tried to keep my sobs as silent as possible, I didn’t need any more human interaction.
After a solid ten minutes, I still couldn’t get up and tears still escaped my eyes, but I could breathe normally again, with the occasional sniffle. I decided to see if she could come get me. I pressed a button or two and put my phone up to my face, trying not to sound like I just cried for ten minutes.
The rings were all too familiar. Then I heard her beautiful voice. I got excited for a second, I even smiled… But only until I realized it was a voicemail. Everything about her was amazing… Except her voicemail. I wish she would change it. As soon as I was about to start talking to the voicemail machine, I heard the most beautiful sound, aside from her voice. The ringtone that I set for her. I quickly pulled the phone away from my face and pressed the answer button.
“Hello? Is everything okay? You don’t usually call,”
“I’m fine… Other than the fact that I was on the way to your house when I couldn’t stand any longer. I’m just about on your road. Can you come get me? It’s important,”
“Of course! I’ll be there as quick as I can! See you in a few,” The call ended. Now I wait. At this point, the tears had nearly subsided but the streaks from them were still there, a clear path for when they started to fall again.
Strangers came and went, asked if I was alright, and this one little boy even gave me a flower. It’s funny how only when I’m dying people care. And it only seems to be this neighborhood. If I had done this in my own neighborhood, I would’ve been told to “get up, it’s not ladylike to lay on the fucking ground like a corpse” or to “stop crying, no need to be pathetic”. Who the hell even does that? Did my neighborhood sell their souls to Satan? I don’t know what else would explain it. Then, out of nowhere, I hear a girl calling my name. I look up to see her. Finally, I hadn’t seen her in over a week!
She helped me up, and I looked her dead in the eyes. I started sobbing, and she just hugged me and rubbed my back. As the tears raced down my face, her soothing voice repeated “It’s okay, I’m here. Let it all out,” The sky started to darken, and I felt the beginning of a rainstorm tap my shoulders. Each drop felt like a tiny kiss on my wounds and mistakes. I looked at her again, smiled, and continued to cry. “Do you want to head to my place? It’s probably more dry inside,” I shook my head. It felt amazing.
“Can we go sit on that bench though?” I asked and pointed about twenty feet ahead. She agreed, sweeping me off my feet. She was carrying me to the bench. I don’t think I could ask for a better girlfriend. We got to the bench, the rain still falling around us. I was still smiling, even if I was crying. As the tears finally stopped pouring down my face, I told her. I told her about the scars on my legs, and what even happened in the first place.
“As you know, my parents are batshit crazy,” She nodded. “Well, they did something terrible,” I took off my sweatshirt to reveal my arms. They were bruised. She looked at me with a look of sheer terror. Tears ran down her face as well. She was careful about hugging me, but she did. Tight.
“We need to call the cops! Or at least tell someone! You can’t live with them anymore!”
“Babe, where will I live, with you? Your parents would say no in an instant. It’s not like I can get emancipated, either…”
“I don’t know, but we’ll work it out. Even if we have to do it alone. You’ll make it out of there,” After that, I knew things would get better. She looked up a hotline and had me call it. I dialed the number, and waited for the operator to pick up. When they did, I told them about what had happened. They told me about what to do. I thanked them, hung up, and looked at her, with all her beauty. She was doing it. One step at a time, she was getting me out of my abusive home. She drove me to the police station so I could tell someone there about it. One thing led to another, and eventually I ended up in court. Against my own parents. Of course, I hadn’t seen them in a while, I was staying with my girlfriend. I’m surprised her parents were okay with it.
It’s been a couple of years since that happened. I’m now sharing an apartment with my girlfriend, I’ve quit cutting, and I haven’t talked to my parents since the day in court. I’ll be right back, I need to go buy a diamond ring.
I wrote a story. I’m not sure why, but it’s here. Please, if you’re being abused at home, get help. Reach out to someone. Someone cares. This didn’t happen to me, but I do know someone that has been abused.
Well, this isn’t what I planned for today, but it is different. I’ll be back tomorrow with something less depressing!