Chapter Two Page One
Stephanie's Past
Most mornings I lay in my bed thirty minutes more because the crying has caused myself physical pain. The summer heat has rolled in, pollen has scratched my nose, but I am still forced to wear sweatshirts with hoodies, to cover the bruises that become worse with each night I sleep. School exams pass their letters to notarize the parent or guardian, and I have skipped for two years. I don't have friends like most kids my age, while they have slipped out their windows for a bottle of beer, with just a slap on the wrist, I fear for who will break through mine. Some days I wish to be older, but other days I don't see a point in growing up.
I am the freak girl, in every class. I am too scared to sit next to the others they categorize me with. My long dark hair hardly gets brushed in the morning, mostly because I don't have the energy from the tire in my arms. Teachers despise me, I have bad name with a bad reputation. I am seen as the girl who deserves the flunk in class, so they give it to me without fail. I live on the outskirts of town, on a field. School bus drivers drop me off ten minutes away from home because the road is too hard on their route. I am sixteen years old, and I live in Evansville Indiana, but most of the time I dream about running away. Here as of late, I have sunken into my sweatshirts, I have lost sight of any dreams, and I am scared to fall asleep to have them. I am a puppet; I speak with someone else's voice.
My dad owns a dying farm, we have a handful of chickens, pigs, and goats. Most of the time that is where I am. I would sleep in here if I were able, the animal who always checks on me, licks my wounds, and sometimes feels like my guardian angel is my goat, that I named biscuit. My uncle just moved into our garage building that we have on the land, my grandma lives in the house with us, she usually bakes a big breakfast, she puts on an act that it was made for me, but I know she does it for her son. She eyeballs me if I reach for seconds. I haven't seen my mother since I was small, she lives inside of a different town.
I think hard about running, where I would go, how far I would get. As a minor it might be possible to find a job, but the question of where I will rest for shelter remains. I think about reaching out to a different person in my family, but they are scattered out, I can't remember the last time they have sent so much as a Christmas card.
My dad has been acting different here lately, he has always been someone that I have been afraid of, and I have always found every possible way to hide from plain sight. My mom left a few years ago without so much as a word. My dad used to own a restaurant in the town square. He was always very prideful, he wasted long hours pouring himself into his business, until one day overlapped over the next. Kitchen workers were quitting one by one, rumors of my dad throwing platters and silverware skipped across town. Customers reported bugs were seen near the grill stations, shortly after he had inspectors visit one after the other. I began to notice a darkness cloud over my father, I was ready to move away from him, but I did not have a place to go. What used to be nothing, but a sociable drink turned over to a beer for breakfast, he only ate when it was necessary. His behavior became worse and worse. I can't recall much of my mother, but from the memories that I do have, I don't think she left because he lost the restaurant. I just wish she would have taken me too.
Hospital
My eye lids dart open, although I have not slept a wink with this ache that screams. I am not kept comfortably, I am held underneath three column lights, that singe burns onto my skin. Sharp pains stab my waist, and my upper thigh, I feel it as the pain is real, however there are no signs of blood or injuries. A taller bald man enters the door, and I have mistaken him for the one who has put me here. Younger women in scrubs rush towards me, their high-pitched voices ring through my ears, I feel deathly sick. My body shakes in cold sweats, my neck is stiff, I am screaming ouch as I turn. I have been asked to remember, so many questions happen all at once, several eyes in pairs look down over me. I am screaming in so much pained anger, that my voice becomes hoarse. My legs kick up and down, my fist pound the bed as they follow the same motion, my head tilts side to side, I lose myself in tantrums. I remember the things that Brittany Swift and her clan has said, and I do not care who all wasn't part of the hate group. I am hurt by everyone, I blame everyone, her words roll to the front of my mind, I cannot think of anything else. I stand alone in my anger. I collect more enemies as I carry on, I carry this sadness inside of me and no one really cares. It takes every fiber left in my bone to scream, I am assumed to be an angry mad person, maybe I am. Maybe I do finally give up, because nothing I say matters anyway. The men next to me huff inside of their annoyance, their eyes glare back to one another for approval, while I am still screaming at them to keep their distance away from me. No matter what I say it is not good enough, they don't hear me anyway. I feel like I have sunken further deep inside of myself, I coddle my hands within my head as I rock back and forth. I try to imagine a good day or someone holding to my hand to help me, together with, realizing that I am lonely. The only thing that comes to mind are the spells on the page. If I try to use my brain to fantasize it feels like a crack in my skull. I am unable to say or do anything the same. I am unlike myself, moreover I could be careless to go back, I didn't like her anyway. If I can't get out of here, then why can't you just hear me? Why am I the only one bothered by the simplest of things? I am trying to say something, and I have said it, I am withstanding alone inside a room crowded full of people. I repeat every word back to the people standing in front of myself, written about me, word for word I spit it out in the same loudmouth tone she used. That's all I hear, that is all I think about, it hurts too badly to try to use my head for anything else. I cannot break through, and seemingly so, I have gone mad. I have mistaken her for her, him for him, no one looks the same, while also, everyone looks familiar. I thought I would find love, instead I am rotting away in here. I am begging to come out. I am angered to the core. Mostly I am broken to be standing in here like this. How pathetic I must look. I am unsure what has happened to the person who looked stronger on the outside, who had a caved shell built around her, no one knew how hurt I really felt, and now I am sobbing in front of myself. My hair has shed inside the palm of my hands, I sound childish crying repeatedly, about the things that never mattered, although it blew up immediately. I want to stamp my foot, I want to scream until it doesn't hurt anymore, I want to cry loud enough to where the world stops making me cry. Sadly, I ask too much. I walked in to find him, but instead I found her. My eyes have spilled tears for so long that it feels like streams of blood drip from my face. How can I help when I am about as useless as a bottom dollar? Most people grow in love, although I grow in hatred. I have been beat down, I have heard it all, including this post that I never physically touched. I feel so tired, I feel worse than I have ever felt before. This pain is rated from a scale that only counts to ten, yet I counted to fifty. Everywhere I look there is a corner of grouped people, ready to beat me down. There are so many people everywhere. So many people who enjoy hurting me. Just make it stop. While most people are fortunate to have been born wrapped in love, I was not. I wish I had the kind of life to be so bored, I could just bully others to make more friends. Instead, I have people ten times my age, ready to knock me over with words and with pain. Even if I could turn this story around to inflict the pain, I still wouldn't, although I was never given that option. All I want is to be at rest, I just want peace. I am in absolute distress, my heart is torn, my head is splitting. No one understands me, yet once again, I start over. I try to speak with a scratchy voice. I saw something, I just do not have the slightest clue what that was. I don't even know who I am anymore, I have never felt so distraught in all of the days that I have been lost. Life itself, has been heavy.
-Micah Vincent