I) Mama, I’m so tired. I’ve taken 10 hot showers and rubbed my skin raw but I still taste him in my mouth. I still feel him, trapped beneath my fingernails along with all the refusals I yelled out repeatedly. Mama, why didn’t he listen to me when I said ‘no’? He still lingers in the spaces between my thighs; he’s seared himself onto my skin, and it feels like the time I was 5 and playing with an iron. Except this time, I know the burn marks will not fade. They’re all over me mama, and I think I want to die.
II) Mama, it’s been four months now, and I flinch whenever someone touches me. There seems to be a problem with the synapses that weave themselves like tapestry across my brain. All they do is transmit warning signals and sometimes if you listen close enough, they scream danger when the boy in chemistry class intertwines his fingers with mine during a panic attack.
III) It’s summer now, Mama, and the beautiful boy from chemistry generates heat with me in my room, instead of within the whitewashed walls of the chemistry lab. You should see the way he looks at me, Mama. All the formulas in the world will never be able to explain the way he loves so selflessly. He’s different; gentle and slow, patient and kind. The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles and god, when I’m with him, I almost start to believe in a heaven.
IV) I think I’m going to be okay, Mama. The burn marks are fading and my soul is healing. These days, I've started to take long walks on the beach with chemistry boy and at sunset, he pulls me into his arms and we just lie there, soaking in the explosion of colors above us. He tells me that he loves me, and I know this to be true because his heart is beating so fast; I think he just might combust. It is a beautiful life, Mama, and I know I’m going to be okay.