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A life of clay
I feel a jolt go through my body. Like some one had taken my heart, and yanked. Three times, actually. I took a deep breath, then opened my eyes. My entire body felt like knifes were being drove through it. My stomach hurts, a deep grueling hunger engulfs me. I force my self to sit up.
"Whoa whoa whoa, no sitting up, love. And don't try to talk either. Your jaw is wired shut." Dad said, a hand on my shoulder he gently returned me to my original position.
"Hey bb brother! If you want to talk to us, just well, use your left hand to right it down on this, kay?" Kandy, or maybe it was Cynthia handed me a white board and a marker. I groaned, and nodded. I wrote down-
"What the hell happened?" And gently tapped the board. Dad took it and read it. I really couldn't remember any thing. I was pretty sure who they were, and that my name started to with a Z.
"You don't remember?" I shook my head.
"I mean, really, not even a tiny bit?" I took the board back and wrote.
"I am not even sure I know who you are, much less what my name is. It does start with a Z, right?" She read over it, then passed it to him, who read it, and passed it back to me.
"Well, were spossed to tell you what your name is, but we aren't aloud to tell you every thing that happened. Its Zander, by the way." I was getting tired quickly.
"Okay. But why not?"
"Well, Zander... it-" An older looking woman came in.
I looked at her. She had salt and pepper hair, more pepper than salt. Wrinkles around her eyes.
"Hello Mr. Mathew, I am just here to ask your son a few questions, about my case."
"I.. I don't know, he just woke up... and is having a little trouble remembering." I quickly wrote some thing down on the white board and tapped it.
"I can't promise I'll tell you every thing, but I'll try." The woman reads it and smiles. I like her smile, its kind, yet a bit threatening.
"Well, I'll have to ask you two to leave, just for a few minutes, please." She says, I am trying to remember dads name. And if he is really my dad. Dad looks reluctant, and so does she. But the woman, she seems to be a little impatient. Once they leave I write
'So what'cha wanna know?'
"Well, first, i just want to verify, what is your name, and where it took place."
'I'm aphrad I'm not sur abot my nam. And I'm pretty sure the atac toc place n a house.' I am pretty sure that most every thing on that board is spelled wrong. But it is just a feeling.
I can tell she is struggling to decode my misspelled words. I sigh, and end up regretting it. She asks me question after question. I forget a few times, and try to talk. It hurts so much, I almost start to cry.
"Zander, when you called nine one one, who did you talk to, were they male or female?" I remember this quite vividly. And i remember some thing about a kitten and a dog.
'Femal, I tink her nam was penn or penny, or some thing with a P. It could of been phbresciya.'
"Penny, she was the only girl working that night. Did your attacker talk to you at all, do you think if we brought in a few suspects, you could ident them?"
"Yeah, she kept saying........" I let the pen slide down and off the board, it lays gently in my hand on my sheets.
'I can't see the woman's face. But I can hear her voice in my head. Then I see her lift something, and bring it down across my back repeatedly.' I write, but it seems wrong, because the more questions i answer, the more her face develops in my head.
"About how many times did she hit you, may I ask?" She asks kindly. And i suddenly don't know if I am sure if she is really a cop.
'I am sorry, I don't maen 2 b psuhy, but may i ples see your identification, befor i go on' She smiles and takes out a badge, I examine it, definitely legit. I nod and write the answer. 'I don't relly no ho meny tims. I just remmbre pain, a lot of pain, and running. And she kept saying... what she was planning on ding to mee. And that I was a mistak I shouldn't of been born. And that she wishs thats she had just gaven up after the fist too cam ot.'
"Zander, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think it was your mother, Deloris." As soon as she says that, I remember every moment of the past three days. Even when they were pealing my skin back so that they could remove each piece of glass, and the burning pain that I could feel, in my mind. I shake my head, and start to cry. Now I remember each detail, down to how many ounces of blood I lost with each broken bottle.
Each of my screams, and pleas. Now I'm remembering why, why she did this to me. Why she started to beet me. Why she hated me so much.
"Zander, you can't cry with your mouth wired shut like that. You have to calm down." I shake my head, and start to hyperventilate. I feel like my world is back, I feel the multiple stitches in my back pop. She is yelling for a nurse. Dad comes in, and some how, Cynthia calms me down. I know its Cynthia, because she is gentle and doesn't call me bb bro. Or Z. She gently whispers my name and puts her hands on either side of my head, and I calm down, then faint. Its a funny scene.
She says "Zander, its over, its okay. Slow breaths." But I don't hear her. I am an animal, her tone is calming, so i am fearful, but my fear denigrates. I nod slowly, then just when I think and they think, I'm okay, I feel the wire on my jaw snap, and I faint.
Its only three days before the wire comes off, and I refuse to talk. I just want to go home, and I want mother to love me. And I want her to come home. And I want dad to hug me, and not treat me like I am made of glass. And i want my psychiatrist to shut the hell up. I want him to stop treating me as if I am insane, and if he says one word about any thing real, I'll snap, and kill every one in the hospital. I am so tired of Mia looking at me as if, the person she kissed, was gone entirely. the truth is, I am still there. But i can't walk, I can barely see, and talking scares me. So I don't tell people what I want, I just stare out a window, while sitting in a god damn wheel chair.
And I can't feel any thing in any part of my body.
A week later....
"Zander, I'll get you eventually, I am just waiting for the right moment." I hear the words, but I see nothing, only darkness. She comes out of nowhere and shoots me. Then she breaks my neck. I wake screaming. This is the second time I she's killed me this week. I fall off the bed, and have to crawl to the nurse button. The nurse is a new one, I've never seen her before. She keeps asking what happens, and has to call a doctor, because i don't talk. I can hear the doctor and other nurses explaining my 'sensitive' condition, and my broken bones. And that i don't talk, from shock their saying. That I am living in denial. The truth, I am afraid, that if I talk, she'll know I survived, and come to get me again. The next day, a bowque of flowers shows up. There is just a card, and it just says some random message.
Lil teg ouy-
Otherm
I am afraid to tell any one what it really says. But the flowers are white roses. The same ones people take to funerals in my family. Dad lost his temper with me today. He yelled at me, and Kandy. Kandy was crying so hard, she had just got back from Rome. No one could reach her for a week and a half. When she comes home, Dad takes me to the hospital, and she starts to cry. I finally talk.
"Just shut the ******** up already!" I yell at her. And she doesn't know this cold me. This hateful evil part of me. She only had ever seen me this cold and heartless once. In a play. Dad yells at me and says I have changed, that when he looks at me I am a different person entirely. So I struggle to move my hand far enough to be able to move my chair. I started physical therapy, and I had to go.
I didn't talk to any on a month later either. My therapy teacher said that the act that I could already walk, with no trouble, was amazing. I just ignore her. I can't run, so if mother fulfills her promise to get me, how will I get away. Thats the only thing that keeps me from not collapsing with the excruciating pain that bolts up my legs with every step i take, with each movement of my arms, with every breath I take. Every word I speak to my self every night when no on is listening. I take long walks in the early mourning. I still have to walk with a crutch. And when school starts in five days, will I be able to walk with out people staring at me like I am some sort of creep.
No one has let me near a mirror, but I'm not blind. I can see my face in people eyes, in their stares of horror. But, I still don't know the existent of the damage. I remember my old face, but it takes to much. I remember my fog colored eyes. My short dyed brown hair. My full naturally pale pink lips, and the oval my face was shaped as. Now, when i see my face in my mind, its covered in blood and half way caved in. Or being thrust against walls and doors. I still couldn't remember much, and I am still afraid to sleep. The doctors said that once they an take out all of my stitches, and when I start sleeping again, my face, will look like it used to, + a few scars. My psychiatrist says that I don't talk because I was hit in the head to many times, and that maybe I lost the ability.
No. Its not because of that, its because it hurts to speak and when I do, I am afraid she'll hear me. So ha-ha. Dad yells at the girls, but its my fault he has such a sort chain now days. Its my fault for every thing. And even tho my broken bones in my arms are almost healed, I still am in so much pain with every movement. I can't it any more, I snap one day when no one is around. I am so tired of feeling dull aches in my legs, that I just take a knife, and cut my self open. The fact that I can control the pain, it just makes me want to do it more. Then I think- Maybe if I was gone, every thing would return to normal, and Dad and the girls would go back to being happy. And with me out of the picture, maybe... Maybe mom would come back. And then with me out of the picture, our doctor bills would stop coming. If I finished what mother started, in a less painful way, maybe I can be happy some where else. I hear a car door slam, and I hear Kandy's excited voice. I smile to my self and hide the knife. No, Kandy needs me, and Cynthia does to. So, for now, I'll stay.
I sit cross legged on the couch, in long pants that hide the shallow thin cuts. Every one is happy, despite the fact that I still wont talk. Kandy has gotten a job, and Cynthia has one to. Every one is happy, but they are trying so hard to cover up the fact that dad can't do it all. Mom never brought in much money, in fact, she only brought in about three dollars a month. The rest she spent on liquor, and drugs. But I guess the thee to five dollars just filled the gap. Kandy comes and sits next to me. I can tell she is tired, and she had been working so hard. I lean over and hug her. Then I say to every on in the room.
"I am not crazy, it just hurts to talk." They stare at me like they haven't seen me in years. Like those few little words just restored their faith in humanity, or God or something. I smile faintly. And even tho it hurts, I talk some more, because it also feels good to see them smiling.
"I.. I am sorry that I have been so mean. I didn't mean to be, it just worked out like that."
"Zander.... You don't have to talk if you don't want to, you don't have to say it hurts." That was Mia. I look at her, eyes narrowed. It really does hurt, why does she think I am lying. Oh, I forgot I was talking to Mia. She started to hate me for no reason after that.
"Mia, that isn't nice! She almost crushed his throat with a metal bar!" Cynthia says, how does she know she used a metal bar across my throat. I look at her, my mouth slightly ajar. "She beat him with a god damned crow bar for ******** sake! So don't you dare call him a liar!" I close my mouth. I remembered that Cynthia cleaned the house, and was the first one home after it happened. Mia looks from each person's face, then looks down at her book. I realize even tho she just called me a liar, I still have feelings for her. I look down to. Down at my bandaged hands. Dad starts talking, and for the rest of the night,m we all just talk. And when its over, my throat burns, but I feel happy, and the more i talk, the less it hurts. Three days later, i go in to get the stitches removed. they start with the ones on my face, then the ones on my chest, then back. They have to break the casts on my arms away, so that they could take those stitches off.
"Okay, Zander, I want you to bend your left arm a little for me."
"Kay," The doctor is shocked by my voice, he double takes. I bend my arm. "It hurts little." I say.
"It talks." Dad says, with a grin. The doctor smiles and nods.
"It walks to." I say, and all three of us start to laugh.
"So, Zander, how are those pain pills I gave you working out?" He asks after wiping a tear from his eye. I reach my arm out and bend it more. I stopped taking the pain pills when I started to want to hurt people right after taking them.
"The truth, I stopped taking them. they made me violent. I couldn't figure it out at first, then One day, i was walking, and my leg gave out. I took one of my pain pills and sat on a bench, waiting for them to work. Once they did I suddenly wanted to scream at every one, and hurt people. So I knew it was the pain pill. So At first, I kept taking them, but less and less. Then I stopped entirely. But I wanted them after words."
"So, not only did they make you act violent towards other people, but you were also semi addicted to them. Well, those are some new side affects to add to the bottle.
 demon strait outta_hell · Sat Jul 05, 2008 @ 07:15pm · 2 Comments |
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