A storyteller-researcher who focuses on the prevention of mental disorders and substance abuse among children, youth, and young adults.
The sound of rain hitting my window softly echoes from afar. Ah, the sound is tranquilizing. I feel my eyelids lift, and suddenly I see Harley ready to lick the drool off my face.
"This damn dog"
I push her off of me and sit up on the side of my bed with my head buried in my hands, trying to block out my two little sisters screaming over school socks in the room next to me.
"Gosh, my head is pounding" I feel like I drank a 2-liter bottle of Old Brown Cherry by myself last night.
The door creaks open and aunt Mavis suddenly appears, " I'll be home late, make sure you walk the girls home after school." She turns and rushes through the house, dodging the girls while they pull at one another, and speeds off down the driveway in her white sedan as if there were 2 kg chicken pieces on sale at Checkers.
I look at my phone and see '20 missed calls' from Amy and a text message at 6:45am saying,
"Sorry, I got way too high last night. I had an idea for us to build a bomb to blow up the FNB ATM down the street. I need to stop smoking Brandon's shit. "
Amy seriously needs rehab, or rather, Jesus. Yes, she needs Jesus.
I scroll down and see a message from Todd. The beginning of the message reads, " I think we should just be friends." My heart melts and shatters into a million pieces. I feel a lump forming in my throat as tears fill my eyes.
I'm so stupid. "Why did I even think for a second that things would work out? " I was so out of his league, it was probably my fault. My breasts are too small and my butt looks like an ironing board. Why can't I just be normal like all the other girls at my school? I think maybe I am the one scaring guys off, I'm not even that pretty anyway.
Maybe it's time I considered "giving it up" to the next guy. Then maybe, just maybe, it will last
The day has gone by so quickly and it's almost time to fetch Hanna and Kylie from school and I'm running late. I'm pacing down Madison Avenue when my eyes catch Wayne Taylor standing outside his house. He is tall and thin, his hair always faded, with light brown eyes and a toned complexion. I get butterflies just looking at him, and here he is, waving me down, asking me if "we can talk".
"This has to be a joke. Where's the camera? "
"Wayne Taylor" thee "Wayne Taylor" wants to meet up later? This is a sign. I can feel it. There is definitely a God. I'm scrabbling through my wardrobe. "What should I wear?" I'm throwing my stuff everywhere, my hair is half done, and I'm frantic. I can make a decision. Finally, I look at myself in the mirror, pulling my top lower and then higher, trying not to look too desperate.
My heart is pounding as I approach the front door. I'm still shocked that the hottest boy in the neighborhood is interested in me. Out of all the girls in the neighborhood "he chose me"
I look up and hold my hands together in a praying fashion "Lord, help me not to say or do anything stupid to mess this up."
After the first knock, the door swings open and a breeze of colon passes by. I see Wayne leaning against the door frame with a warm, sexy smile. Shivers crawl down my spine as he places his hand on my lower back, leading me into the house. My cheeks ache. I can't stop blushing. He is so charming and just knows what to say when to say it, and how to say it at the right time.
Things get heated up as he unbuttons my jeans and gently kisses my chest. My mind is racing. I start to feel scared as he pulls off my jeans. He tells me to relax as he reaches for his belt to undo it.
I pull myself up, but he doesn't listen and pushes me back down. I try to push him off of me, but he just grabs me and flips me over onto my stomach. I try to scream but he holds me down by the back of my neck and pushes my head into the sofa cushion. "Stop, please, you're hurting me," I begged him over and over until I gave in and just lay there as he raped me over and over for four hours straight.
It's 03:52 am and I find myself sitting at the edge of my bed with Aunt Mavis's gun to my head. Tears roll down my cheeks. A voice in my head keeps saying " I deserved it." "I asked for it." "I was never meant to be happy." I closed my eyes tightly and hope there will be no pain. My mind is a battle field. My emotions are running wild. I look up to the heavens and say " Lord please forgive me "as I gently squeezed the trigger.
Recognize the symptoms before you or a loved one "gently squeezes the trigger"
Low self-esteem can cause anxiety, stress, loneliness, and an increased risk of depression cause difficulties in friendships and romantic relationships seriously impair academic and occupational performance increase susceptibility to drug and alcohol abuse.
This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and is not meant to substitute for formal and individualized advice from a qualified professional.
© 2022 Charlene Grendon