"I will Swallow"

My mind was still racing with the never ending denial system that was always kept busy, reminding me, yet at the same time trying to hide the fact that my first time dealing with sex (which I was lead to believe by my own mind was somewhat 'enjoyable' and I was willing) was a lie. A fucking lie. Just like every other memory in the file cabinet known as the mind of a 'mad girl'. I was decieved by myself and that makes me a very good liar, saying as I believe my own lie for a long six years. Indeed my heart was suffering in the utter pain that my childhood was taken by pain and blood but then again I knew things would get better in the end. I hoped. I wanted. It to be that way. I absolutely, desperately needed things to be better in the end for both myself and the people around me.  
 
Putting aside the fact that my plan of getting better in life has been cracked and I can feel my heart breaking as I come to accept the fact that my first time was bloody and stolen though that wasn't the first memory that I remembered being hurtful-was it? Despair fills my heart as I thought those memories and realized that they were true and I was the greatest liar I've ever known. It was at this time that my head throbbed again, I had a headache since the moment I woke up this morning, and I almost wanted to cry out in pain.  
 
I told Annie I wouldn't scare you, I'm not am I?  
 
I looked over at my ajar closet door at just the right moment to see the fabricated girl sitting in the doorway. She was wearing her usual ghastly white skin with the smudges of red across her inner thighs, I only know they look like finger smudges because at one point I had the same ones. At first I wanted to kick her in the jaw but then I saw past her hair that was slightly covering her trembling lip which, like always, was wet with the salty tears I had recently been able to spill in the past hour.  
 
"Oh, n.. No you aren't." I replied softly, pushing the hair out of my face that I still needed to wash to get the sick smell of smoke out of it.  
 
She clutched her legs to her chest when I looked down at her, leaning on my unkept bed. I felt bad for ignoring her for an already extended time, seeing as this was the only time I have ever really talked back to her without shutting a door in her face or telling her 'shut up' which reminds me that sometimes I can be just as hollow as my mother once was to me, though that thought scares me I put it aside so I can concentrate on talking to the young framed girl. Her frame was my own, putting aside the face that hers was bruised and trembling at all times.  
 
I understand why you hate me, I hate me too.  
 
It hurt to hear that coming from such a young child and for a moment I wanted to reach down and hold her in my arms, to tell her that everything will one day be alright though I don't know that because I can't see past this moment.  
 
"No, I don't hate you. I never said that. I'm sorry, about everything." The feeling she gives me is one of wanting to drown in the river down my street, made me want to take all the asprin in the cabinet and although I knew I would never get up the courage to do those things at the moment I feared that after learning and accepting these things I might just find myself--  
 
You hate me, I know you do 'cause you make me deal with everything you can't.  
 
This was true. Due to the fact that I can't handle any of my own pain because it will literally tear me apart starting with my heart up to my head, which has already begun it's dimise, I put every painful memory inside her head so I wouldn't have to have a reason to sad (thinking this would make me less sad, thought failing of course). My entire childhood is something I deny and something she realizes is real which is why she is always making me feel as if I want to die because that's how she feels, all the time.  
 
"I am sorry. Maybe we could be friends sometime. I mean you don't have to hold onto every memory... Right?" When I said this I wanted to believe that I meant it but I knew that in reality I didn't want to hold any of my memories, they made me hurt myself, they made me want to commit suicide, they made me cry which was at the same time good because I find oh so difficult to cry over those things.  
 
The fact that I've never thought of being friends with the innermost child inside of me makes me feel awkward and stupid, silly and frustrated though towards myself and not her. Never her, I don't hate her just the the things she knows that I choose not to accept. She is my ugly side of me, not the side I want anyone to see, not the side I want to see, not the side that I so love to talk to.  
 
There are things that I know... That you don't want to remember...  
 
While she spoke those words she let her knees seperate with a pained look on her face for a moment so I saw the bare area between her legs which was obviously red from being 'mistreated' for too long, I couldn't help but stare at the blood dripping down on the hardwood of my floor. It was then that I saw the bruises on the inside of her tender thighs, the cuts marks painted on her arms which bled (though not as much as she'd like), the constant tears dripping down her face, the me in her I saw made me sick.  
 
Then with the sudden and painful memory of having the young clitoral hood pulled back with a cold, sharp Dental Scaler along with adding of the dry rubbing of the clitoris which wasn't very enjoyable anyhow, Dani started to cry and shake in fear, staring at the woman standing between us though her back was turned to me I knew who she was. She was clutching her fists together as she glared at the girl who I knew at one time to be me and so I was obviously offended that she would intrude in on our first time ever, not antisocial, conversation.  
 
M... Mommy I didn't mean to get it on the bed...
 
I knew what Dani was babbling and crying about, she was talking about the time that she had come home from Adam's house, the area between her legs sore from being pulled and tugged, pushed and invaded. She had gotten some red, yellow discharge on the bed sheet from when Adam forced his fingers into her no matter that they didn't fit her small frame, then after shoving his piece into her over and over so she filled up with that white liquid.  
 
The little girl, the coward she was, sunk back onto her elbows which surprised me because usually it hurt her to move from her position and apparently, though I didn't remember before this moment, my mother decided to have one last abusive action before pretending and making me believe that my life was great. I felt the blow to my face and the fact that Dani had been holding in her urine so she didn't get it all over Adam's bed as he ravaged her, my bladder hurt sharply as each hit in the face made her twitch and flinch so she almost had no choice but to let it all go.  
 
"Leave her alone." I yelped quietly as the woman with chocolate red hair went to strike Dani once more, but I soon regreted that action because she then turned to me.
 
Mommy, no, don't hurt her!
 
...You fucking pig, you've pissed all over the floor...
 
My hand covered my mouth as sudden tears slid out and down my cheeks and dripped quickly with each shake. Dani wasn't there anymore and the image of my mother soon disapated as well, fully going away as I looked down and saw that when Dani wet herself--so did I. To save myself from embarressment and fear of having mother yell at me for being 'immature' or being a 'pig' I tugged my underwear and dress off, using the towel that always hung on my bed post to clean the liquid off the floor, tears still pouring down because I couldn't believe this was happening to me.  
 
Mindlessly shoving the now wet items in the laundry basket then slowly heading into the shower to clean myself was a huge task for me, for some pathedic reason. Luckily for me my mom was in the kitchen so she didn't see me walk into the bathroom and close the door with a sigh, at the moment I had wanted to fill the tub, take all the leftover Carbamazepine in the cabinet and drown myself in the tub. Only because I was so distraught about having not known my mother abused me for an extra year then what I had orignally thought, which makes me sick everytime I look at her saying as I can't just move out yet, still one more year until that. Even though I know I will find it hard to leave her, them, like that because I won't know how to act without them--how much food am I allowed to eat? Will I get in trouble for dressing like this? Who's going to tell me that I'm a failure? Am I wrong? Should I die? Is this wrong? Life? No. Death? Sometimes but only with that little girl.  
 
Isn't that was she wants? Death? I would never let her kill herself, not only will it be the death of me as well, but I would miss her very much (if I survived and she didn't). I realized that a severe side effect of Carbamazepine is "loss of contact with reality" funny that I've been experiencing that for five years but now if I ever told anyone they'd blame the medication that I haven't taken in a few months. Now I know that I need to to know what she knows and I don't, though my mind has just come to the relapse that my virginity was raped?... Or forced?... Or hurt?... Or... Fucked? Is it wrong to want to call it something else that doesn't make seem as serious? No I guess not.  
 
This brings me to the end of the journal entry, I am done describing my thoughts and feelings on the whole subject, hurts too deep, and so with this I leave.  
 
"I will swallow. If it will help my sea level go down. I'll take a deep, deep breath but I'll come back to haunt you if I drown."