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Grace

Straitjacket

By Isis Lyons Published 2 years ago 9 min read
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I never knew how bad things could get, never knew life as I knew it could turn into a big pile of shit. As I walk the streets of Bronx, New York I come across people from my school. They look away violently as if I’m not human, like I’m some kind of monster. I remember having friends and laughing with them, that is until everyone found out things about my dad; things I still can’t believe. My mother gets drunk on a daily basis, she's becoming someone I can’t recognize. I look up at the foggy, dingy sky and there’s the only hope I’ll find. I turn left into an alley, I walk towards a beat up door. I take out my house keys and I unlock my front door. I walk inside to the smell of cigarettes and vodka, my mom's afternoon incense. “Hey, baby.” My mom, Yuna slurs. I wave and I give her a sympathetic glare. I walk past her to enter my room, I close my door and I plop on my bed. My thoughts become a marathon, I try to catch up to them but I can’t.

You’re a murderer just like your father

You don’t deserve to live

Life would be better without you

It goes on and on, as I sit here soaking it all in. I’m not sure if any of it is real, but it feels pretty real to me. I haven’t seen my dad since he was arrested two years ago, I don’t call or send notes. He doesn’t deserve to hear from his family after he broke it up. Just to murder women my age… And he.. He raped them. What if he would’ve turned on me, what if on my 17th birthday he tried to rape me? How couldn’t my mom have known? Maybe she did know and thought he’d never get caught. Maybe she’s only sad because he’s gone and not because of what he’s done. Her and I never spoke about it though, she hasn’t opened her mouth to say daddy’s name; let alone to tell me what she knew and didn’t know. What’s more insane to me is that I never saw this coming, I never would’ve thought my father could do anything as close as what he’s done. Growing up he was so kind, and giving; he would’ve done anything and everything for the people he loved. I never knew so much hate lived inside of him, never knew how evil he could be. What if a part of me is like that? What if I have the same issues he did? I guess the only way to find out is with time. I’ve never in my life thought about cutting someone open, never even thought about harming anyone. Even people I disliked, I never paid any mind to them. So maybe that means I’m nothing like him, maybe that means I can be confident enough to make friends again. Maybe I can put myself out there and positive outcomes will occur. As I’m encouraging myself I hear my mom blasting music; I walk out of my bedroom to see her drinking and dancing like a maniac. I giggle to myself as I watch her fists punching the air, I go over to her and I begin to dance with her. As I dance with her I look into her face and she begins to gleam. This was the first time I’ve seen her smile since way before my father got arrested. Happiness fills my heart like water in a glass, I grin from ear to ear; hope radiates from my home as we dance the night away. I suddenly feel this invisible warm hug around my body; “I never want this feeling to end!” I thought, as my heart began to jump up and down with joy. I take my mom’s hand and I twirl her, all of a sudden I visualize us outside in the night, under the moonlight. She takes my hands and we cha-cha our way through the darkness; stars begin to appear right before my eyes. I feel my eyes drenched in tears, I think I’ve been crying this whole time. I open my eyes and all I see is a ray of car lights smacking against my blinds. “I’ve been in my room this whole time?” I question myself, my head spinning as if I’ve woken up from the longest nap. I sit up and I start to feel a banging against my head as if a hammer were smacking against a brick wall. I get up from my bedroom into our dark hall, I rub my hands against our shallow walls. I navigate my way to the kitchen and I turn on its light. I see my mom knocked out against the dining table with vodka bottles all around her. The smell began to make me nauseous, I grabbed the bottles and I threw them ALL in the trash. I dumped the leftover alcohol in the sink, and I cleaned up the stale snack she’s left around our house. I look over to our cheap, outdated SpongeBob clock. It’s 4:00am and I have to be at school by 7:00am, “great way to start my day.” I announce, hoping to wake up my mom. She sits there like an empty box, nothingness. There are days like this when I absolutely hate her, where I’d just like to… “You know what, I’m going to start getting ready for school.” I announce, I go towards the end of the hall into my… our bathroom. I wash off the muck that stuck against my skin, I close my eyes and I admire the warmth of the water. I open my eyes and I jump up in fear, I slip and my back smacks the bottom of the bloody tub. My heart begins to race uncontrollably, “WHY IN THE HELL AM I BLEEDING?!”I shout, I hop out of the shower and I grab my towel. I wrap it around my body and I run, slipping and sliding in the hall to get into the kitchen to wake up my mom. “MOOOOOM!” I run towards her, I grab her to shake her; her neck is slit. My heart begins to jump up and down just like in my vision of me and her. I look down and I realize I’m stepping in a pile of her blood. I run towards our house phone, my palms are sweating and all I can think is “my father got out of prison somehow.” I dial 911, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to say what’s going on. It feels like I’m losing oxygen from my lungs. My breathing is light, and my heart is starting to slow down. “911, This is Terra speaking. How may I assist you?”

“Help…m.”

*BOOM*

*SLAM*

“Hello ma’am? Ma'am?”

Everything’s blurry, flashing lights all around my eyes but I can’t see where it’s coming from. “Hello? Ma’am?”

I finally got a clear focus of what’s going on, I’m in a hospital. Police officers are in the room trying to get answers from me. I begin to feel relief, “Where’s my mom?” I assume she’s okay, I assume I was hallucinating again. The cops are looking at me with so much confusion, like they’ve never seen a daughter worry about her mother before. “What?” I ask, “Is she okay?” They both sigh with disappointment in their tone. They don’t even care that my mom just got hurt. I start shaking my head, all of a sudden I feel my arm is raised up and my hand is hanging. I have handcuffs attached to my hospital bed. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!” I shout, they roll their eyes and shout back “SETTLE DOWN!”

A detective finally comes in, maybe he’ll answer my questions. “Hi, sir. What’s..” He interrupts me, “I’ll ask the questions here.”

“Do you and your mother get along?” He's investigating me as if I’m the one who hurt her. I WAS BLEEDING TOO! “Of course.” I confirm, “Why are investi…” Before I could get the words out he interfered. “I’LL ASK THE QUESTIONS!” He shouts, why would this man think I would ever hurt the only family I have? “What is your relationship like with your mom?” I looked at him with a blank face, “It wasn’t perfect, but I loved her.” I say. “You just used past tense referring to your mother. Why is that?” I automatically felt a heavy weight in my stomach. Did I kill my mom? I wouldn’t have, I couldn’t have. That’s not true, this isn’t real. I have to be hallucinating. “I’m assuming she’s gone because you won’t let me know if she’s okay or not.” I tremble, “She’s dead.” He confesses to me so harshly, they think I did this but I know I didn’t. “How do you feel now that your mom is gone?” He’s provoking me, but it won’t work because I would never do this! “I’m miserable.” I tremble. “Is that because she’s gone or because you killed her?” I roll my eyes as a teardrop falls from my eyes. I begin to be quiet until I can get a lawyer, but that doesn’t stop him from asking questions. “What’s your name?” Finally a question I can answer, “Grace Mae Solace.” I say with complete confidence, I even grin a little. They begin to whisper amongst each other, and all I can think is “what the fuck did I do now?” The detective and cops begin to take the cuffs off of me, I guess they’re finally coming to their senses. “Can you stand up?” They ask me so gently and kindly, “Yeah, I can stand up?” I gracefully stand up, one cop grabs my arms from the front the other grabs my legs from the back. The detective quickly applies a straitjacket over my head. “I’M HARMED AS WELL! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!” I shout, I began to go crazy trying to get out of their hands but all of a sudden - *SMACK*

I wake up with my head hanging off a wood, ladder back chair. My neck feels stiff and strained, as if I was sitting here for hours. Why don’t they care about me? What have I done to them or anyone? “Hello, Alice.” Alice, that’s my name. All of a sudden I’m back at that moment, I turn left into an alley, I walk towards a beat up door. I take out my house keys and I unlock my front door. I walk inside to the smell of cigarettes and vodka, my mom's afternoon incense. “Hey, baby.” My mom, Yuna slurs. I go over to her and I break her vodka glass, I slit her throat with it. I wave and I give her a sympathetic glare. I walk past her to enter my room, I close my door and I plop on my bed. Tears fell down my face, “Alice, this place is here to help you through your mental issues. Grace is not you, Grace Mae Solace is the first seventeen year old your father, Kolan murdered, but I’m sure you knew that already.” I look up to this random woman and I say nothing. Everything I say is a lie, everything I thought were fantasies to hide the real truth. I’m a murderer like my father and I belong in here. “You’re in Rollen Mental health Physicality and I promise you’ll get better with time.” The sky was my only hope, now there’s none.

psychological
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About the Creator

Isis Lyons

I am extremely passionate about all things writing. If you enjoy any of my stories please stay tuned and subscribe. I would really appreciate it.

Instagram; @isisthepoeticgod

@_isisthewriter

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