When I was around twelve years old
My little brother tried to ****** me and my siblings.
I didn't think I would survive until 13 after that.
Because I can still hear the pounding and screaming
When a car passes by.
I can still feel myself covering my ears
And praying the sound of a knife tearing at wood
Would go away.
The knife with my ****** trauma
The knife that has almost killed me five times
Still lays in the kitchen drawer.
I can remember taking 911 off speed dial
Last
Year.
Red and blue police lights
Filling my vision
Whenever I have an anxiety attack
Because I saw them too many times.
I can still tell you the different hiding places
I found while searching
For a place to hide in case
He ever tried to **** me again.
It was been around two years since then.
I am not okay.
I am stuck in a household that is loud
And painful
And traumatizing me more and more
With every mistake I make.
I am put in a place that is designed to trigger my anxiety.
I am not okay.
But I am

Healing.