Spoiler! :
Zach sat at the computer thinking of what he would say, how he would present it, and how he would let it out. After all these months of planning he still didn’t know what to say. Months, that had in reality been years. He slid his fingers across the white, cold keys of the keyboard. The easiest way would be a blog. He began to write, type the words he had always hidden.
Eating disorders, depression, self infliction, and bipolar disorder. I’ve had it all. At least I assume I have. It was never clinical, or diagnosed. I’ve never had a chance of it being diagnosed. Of course, I could of managed to have it diagnosed on my own, but really what good would that do?
I think I should start off this story with an explanation, and by ‘this story’ I mean why I’m going to kill my self, this very night. It all started before I was even born. This is a short story of my mother.
Lynn, my mother- approximately 5’1 today, and uglier than sin - had a horrible childhood. To keep this brief her step father, Ryan Gerald, sexually abused her. I only found this out between beatings, and drunken revelations. That started when she was 13. Usually this is a time of hormonal craziness for girls, but for her, that was when she got pregnant. Pregnant with a boy she would never want.
I won’t keep you guessing, that boy was me. Zach, 5’10 and only 15. Lynn, or ‘mommy’ has always kept me fed, and has kept the bruises where school teachers couldn’t see. I’ll let your mind wander.
I’ve seen enough SVU Law and Order to know that victims of sexual assault are suppose to be scared, or pathetic. As you can see I’m not like that. Never have I EVER talked about my assaults before, but if I don’t now... no one will ever know.
Years ago, to many to count, mommy told me to come to her room. I was scared, maybe I had done something and was going to get a spanking. I can’t reveal everything that happened, only because I do not want to brand your mind, but first she threw her beer bottle. I wouldn’t of guessed that would only be the first of millions of beer bottles to be thrown at me.
After it hit me, causing blood to spurt from my arm, she told me she was sorry. Like she didn’t mean too... It was only because of the drinking... She carried me to her bed, and that was the first night she had touched like a mother never should. It only escalated after that..
While growing up was when I decided it was time to stop eating, loving, or enjoying anything. Because I couldn’t... Mother never gave me a break. Even when I cried out at night for help. One time I manage to scream loud enough the police were sent, but against mother, a full time actress, they didn’t have a chance. Lynn sat with them at our kitchen table explaining how I was always looking for attention. They even spoke to me. They never saw the blood stains peeking from under my shirt, I guess...
Now writing this, before she comes home from work, I realize I can’t go one more night. I’ve realized this before, but now I know. Tonight is the night this ends. I keep typing, but now I have to go finish this before she get home.
Goodbye, although It was never nice knowing life.
‘Submit’ lit up the bottom corner of his open webpage, and without thinking twice he clicked it, but Zach wasn’t done.
Zach turned off the computer a sick feeling enveloping him with every motion. He grabbed a pen, knife, and loose leaf paper, heading to his bed. His dirty blond hair stuck out at every angle and blue eyes were cast down toward the apartment's floor. Anger towards life ate at him.
He started to write what ever would come out. He pressed his pen deep into the paper, playing out his few last words. Picking up the knife, that he had felt against his skin many times before, but not by his own hand, Zach pressed it against his throat. A sliver of blood fell down like drizzling rain.
A change of heart changes his game plan, and he jerks the knife against his wrist. Over and over until blood is pouring from him. He still clutching the page, signing it.
Zach’s fingers go limp. Blood runs across the page as it falls from his hand.
To,
Lynn
My skin stays plastered across my being,
Angels cry out to me.
Teardrops of blood course down my stomach
Over the bumps and blemishes
I am only me
Although you may think I am selfish
You, who think I’m selfish,
yet stuck me in this place to begin with.
To begin with you, in fact, were selfish.
Teardrops turns to rivers,
Rivers you can go drown in.
Perhaps you can learn,
From my self righteous suicide.
Righteous enough to shove you out
I know what you’ll say,
“He just wanted attention,
but he didn’t know when to stop.”
You cut these words into me,
Day after Day for 15 years.
Attention?
From your blackened soul...
like talking to wall.
However, I think I’ve got it.
From your attention seeking baby,
Zach
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