content warning: blood, violence, panic attack
I sit
in the emptiness
of the family room
by myself.
Cradle my head in my hands,
unable to close my eyes
as they stare through
the gaps between my fingers.
Despite the still environment,
my heart is racing
alongside the thoughts:
run or they’ll **** you, so much blood…
The door opens despite the lock.
So
much
BLOOD!
Mother steps in,
her boyfriend,
my sister too,
grandma and grandpa.
Tears slip between my fingers,
unwilling to be held behind my last sense of self-control.
The lock failed, I'm terrified
seeing the blood-driven amusement across their faces.
“Look!” My sister calls,
and I see the meat cleaver she’s holding slice through mom’s head.
So much blood.
Mom laughs from the floor.
Grandfather holds a gun up to sister’s head, and then
the pieces of her splattered across the walls
laugh in crescendo.
I’m different from them.
They approach me now.
I know I’ll die.
I have no means of fighting back
with these useless, shaky hands.
Hands that inscribe their own pain
into my cheeks,
nails peeling the skin away
as I panic.
I’m going to die,
and I scream like it.
“Stay away from me!”
So much blood.
_
Everything was dark
by the time I returned to.
My braid was ruined,
and darkness still clouded my vision.
Mom is screaming at me,
demanding to know if I had taken anything.
The panic seizes control over me again,
my hands trying to defend me from my own mind,
tugging at my braid,
wet with tears,
sobbing as I realize
I ruined it.
I ruined it,
I will pay with my blood for causing
more shame for mom,
and more trauma for my sister.
Mom finally softens,
something she hasn’t done
for a long time.
“I think you’re having a panic attack.”
