Hear Me

🧠

I watched the enraged look on dad’s face as he loaded his arm and the traumatized look on mom’s as dad whipped her with full force. Her hair flailed as she ran to the bedroom scared. I shut that door. I open a different door. Mom came out with rat poison in her hand and began to gulp it down. Sip after sip in front of my dad and me. I shut that door. I open another one and another one until they start to swing open by themselves, each one of them releasing dark fog, filling me up with void. There is a nightmare behind each door. The good memories are clouded with the fog of self-hatred. I am always dark. Everywhere I look, all I know is darkness. Although, my optic nerve is not receiving any electrical signals currently and I sense melatonin. I know I am supposed to shut down right now, but for some reason, I cannot, even though I need rest. My cerebellum seems to be intoxicated again. I sense almost no serotonin in me. Another door opens. A bunch of kids grabbed me and started dragging me to the empty rikshaw in the corner of my street. Two of them grabbed my legs and the other two grabbed my arms. I screamed for my brother, but he was too far away. That door slams shut. One more door opens. “I’m going to bash your head in the wall if you tell your mom any of this” the new nanny said as she grabbed me by my hair while bathing me. That door shuts. Another one opens. Mom and dad fighting. Door shuts. Another opens to a classroom where I did not have a partner to work with when everyone else did. Door shuts. Another opens to dad yelling at me about how he wanted 6 sons but after having me he wished he did not have any. Door shuts. Another opens to mom emptying the orange bottle down her throat and overdosing again. Door shuts. Another opens to dad picking up a leather belt. Door shuts. Another opens and flails shut. So many doors. So many memories. So much fog. So much void. I can sense myself get weaker and weaker as time passes by. I wish I were used more. I am the part that does what I should and not what I want. I know I want relief and think there is only one way. I know I am too young to die even if other parts want me to. I should open those doors and go inside instead of drinking them shut. I hope I am heard before I quit functioning. I know my cells receive damage about every day, yet I fight every day to keep this body functioning. Finally, all my doors are shut but the fog remains.