This story is strictly fiction, but very serious.
|10 Years Old
I am 10 years old. I am helpless and defenseless. I wish my world didn't exist. The pain that ravages my body eventually subsides, but the pain inside me refuses to go away. It happens every night, the only sure thing that exists in my life. I am too young too understand;yet old enough too never wish this upon anybody else. As I lay curled against my bedpost, i dread falling asleep, for fear that my dreams will bring another experience. Once a night is enough for me. Instead, I think about what school will bring me the next day. Will my teacher's ask again why my eyes are so puffy? Or maybe they'll just ignore me as they usually do. I hear the things they say about me. They think i'm the girl with no attention span, who doesn't talk and interact beause she's stupid. I'm not very well liked among the other kids either. They think i'm a freak because i eat by myself, and don't play hopscotch or kickball. I really do want to play, but it hurts to do anything active. So I sit and watch them play, occasionally hearing them snicker and laugh at me, sitting all alone. Their insults don't really affect me too much any more;in fact i'd feel out of place if i didn't hear them on a daily basis. I guess being called "freak girl" is better than having no identity at all.
There is a certain numbness i feel on a daily basis. I welcome that numbness, as a sort of release from the pain that consumes me. In fact, some nights the numbness i achieve is so great, i don't feel the pain until after it is over and the door shuts softly behind me. I am 10 years old and i have become numb to the world.
I often wonder what it would be like to be normal. I don't ever remember achieving a sense of normalcy. For as long as i can remember my nights have been filled with dread and nothingness. That is what is normal to me, dread and nothingness. I realize that this is not normal, and that i am not normal. I don't think it's my fault the way i am, I've just never had anyone tell me differently, so what am i supposed to think? I am 10 years old and i have never been reassured in my whole life.
My parents try to talk to me about my problems. My mom is especially persistent, but she gets frustrated easily when i don't respond. I think she thinks i am getting to be a lost cause. My dad isn't usually home until late at night, but by that time i am already in bed. We don't do that much talking around each other anyways. i hope my mom keeps trying to communicate with me. Maybe one day I'll have the nerve to tell her what i feel and why. Im afraid until that day, she'll keep viewing me as a lost cause. I'm 10 years old and I'm already a lost cause.
My days seem to go on forever, and even when i feel like i've accomplished something, the hours of pain i endure every night snatch that feeling away from me, lost within my muffled cries. I have never cried for joy, relief, or anticipation, only for despair. My only feeling of accomplishment is knowing that i made it through another night, body intact. I am 10 years old and i have never felt the satisfaction that comes from true accomplishment.
I tend to cry a lot. Sometimes it's for no particular reason, which makes my mom upset since i can't really explain to her why i'm crying. I wish i had an explanation for my irrational bouts of crying. Maybe it's just part of growing up. I hope these nights i endure are just part of "growing"up, because it can't last forever can it? I am 10 years old and i have cried enough to last me a lifetime.
It's time to stop writing now. It's nearing that time of night again. I don't think it's natural to be frightened of a certain hour in the day, but I am. 11 p.m. should be a peaceful hour of night, filled with restful sleep and wonderful, imaginative dreams. 11 p.m. is when mommy is sound asleep. 11 p.m. is the one sure thing in my life. 11 p.m. is when my door creaks open and daddy shuffles in, naked, with a finger to his mouth, reminding me to keep quiet so we don't disturb mommy's sleep. 11 p.m. is the only time daddy and I spend together. 11 p.m. is when the last shred of dignity I think I have left in me is ripped to pieces. 11 p.m. is when daddy rapes me....
Obviously, this diction is a little elevated for a ten year old girl. I am now 32 years old, and i wrote this as a 32 year old. However, the ideas expressed are from a 10 year old's point of view. The nightly visits from my father eventually stopped at age 16 when he just got up and left one day. I'll never know why that bastard left, and i don't really give a shit. I am resigned to the fact that it happened and there is nothing i can do about it. Many people may find this approach sad and call me a quitter. I just want to be left alone........
I am 32 years old and my life is irreparable