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Act 1, Scene 1: Patient 0

Safe. something I have never felt since I was THAT child lying in a THAT bed in a room that I had not known.

By RoccoPublished 2 years ago Updated 4 months ago 3 min read
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Let me paint a picture.

One mother and one father.

Both experienced and overcame grueling trauma.

Two people who loved each other so deeply that they helped heal one another.

Two people who wanted to raise a family that was filled with love, compassion, opportunity, gentleness.

Parents who had 3 beautiful, cared for, sheltered girls who were raised in a suburban home-

Girls who woke up in the morning giggling because their sister slept right across the room in the twin bed that made squeaking noises.

Daughters who dressed up in all things that looked fun- from their mother's dresses and jewelry to their fathers hats and shoes- they tried it all on as they played house with their barbie jeep, plastic fruits and red and yellow cash register.

And oh, I cannot forget the princess costumes.

Always have to have the princess costumes- the fairytale that brought the glisten in us young girls eyes.

AndI, the oldest, was always Cinderella- although, to be quite frank, I definitely feel like I am more of a Pochahantas (hehe).

Three daughters who were full of life.

Then it hit.

I am twelve years old.

Lying in a small twin bed, alone in a room that is silent, in a house full of strangers.

I remember holding myself wishing I could be in the arms of my parents.

I remember being scared.

I remember the fear of the unknown.

I was exposed to things a child never should have- Rape, suicide, gangs, abuse, self-harm, addiction, sex.

Tears, fights, fronts, screams, blank stares.

7am wake up, 7:30 ten min shower, 8am breakfast, 9am process group.

I was the youngest. I was the sheltered, unaware, prude, never said a single cuss word child. I had not known the worlds cruelty until I was dropped off at a treatment center.

Until I watched my parents drive away through a window of my new “home”.

I could not comprehend what was happening, after all, the only sleepovers I really had were over at my grandmas. The most provocative movie I saw was something like, Grease.

I mean shoot, I had a teddy bear in my hand, everywhere I went.

I believed in love.

I believed that wishes could come true if you wished hard enough.

I believed that everyone was truthful; Everyone was good.

I believed that stuffed animals could cure loneliness and parents could protect you from everything.

On that day, I realized I was wrong.

The world is cruel and lonely and makes no sense.

I saw pain; true, sad, agonizing pain.

All I wanted was to be held-

To be told it was going to be okay.

From that time on, I learned I had to watch your own back-

I never looked for anyone to save me because in the end all there truly was... was me.

I lived a life of a timed, precise schedule.

There was no deviance. Defiance, however, led to restriction of talking to or seeing my family. It led to restriction of love, protection, safeness. Restriction of MY safeness.

Here's the thing, I now never feel safe.

The touch of my family feels uncomfortable, like at any moment I will be pulled away from their arms and relive the pain that accompanies loneliness as and separation. The pain of hopelessness and failure-AKA the results of this defiance.

Touch of friends reminds me of the day I hoped to see visitors and was visited by disappointed.

Touch from a man reminded me of the facade I had to put to up in order to hide the past that society deemed "broken".

To seem acceptable because here's the thing- People like that I had a story or a past, that I have gone through things. Key word, “HAVE” gone through things.

Safe. something I have never felt since I was THAT child lying in a THAT bed in a room that I had not known.

I would lie awake contemplating the topics I had heard from that day- rape, suicide, self-harm;

People were no longer good.

familyLoveShort StoryYoung AdultSeries
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About the Creator

Rocco

“As if my brain subconsciously knows that the value of offering or thinking just as everyone else is equivalent to no value whatsoever.” The Writer

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