Praying for Autumn

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. It was a beautiful world of glistening colors, the red, orange, and yellow hues flickering and burning bright in the chilled wind. How long had I been trapped in that dark prison, chained down in fear by the ferocious yells of anger and spite? How long had I been cornered, trembling at the beck and call of a fickle temper? Lips scarred and torn from biting them, nails bloody and raw from the same treatment, my anxieties were visible but still well hidden. Shrouded by years of practicing smiles in the mirror, veiled by I’m fine's and Don’t worry's, my friends remained in blissful oblivion of my living hell. When I was with them, I could ignore the feeling of cold, gray walls closing down on me from every side. I could pretend to bandage my torn heart and forget harsh insults. They served as a safe haven from the ghosts that haunted me. Whenever I left their sides and returned to my prison, it was like a slap in the face. I could try to ignore my demons, but they were always there. Still, I pushed on; I was forced to keep moving. It was painful, but I was never alone. My sister and brother had kept me grounded from the temptation of the bloody razor or the bottle of pills stowed away in the bathroom cabinet. With every step forward, with every flinch backwards, I reminded myself of autumn. 

When autumn comes, I will be free. When autumn comes, I can escape. When autumn comes… When autumn comes… I spent many nights trying to comfort myself by imagining what I would do when my autumn finally came. I wondered what I had missed in the world, staring at its brightness longingly through a tiny peephole. What would it feel like to run, with the cool breeze on my cheeks? What would it feel like to wade and splash in the blues, greens, and purples of the ocean? What would it feel like to bask in the wonderful hues of sunlight speckling through the treetops? The freedom I had craved for for so long was finally in my reach. I would finally get to experience the world I had been isolated from. Yet, I couldn’t stop the guilt that churned uneasily in the pit of my stomach. 

Though autumn would come, and I would be free, she would be left alone in our prison. Bloody, beaten, and bruised, we were each other’s strengths. My sister was my rock, my survival, and the time had come when I must leave her to the sharks. With this realization, I sobbed and cried. Guilt washed over me, rolling and tumbling me over like the ocean on a stormy night. I had been living for this autumn, stretching my arms out desperately to reach it. When I spoke of it I could feel a rare, genuine smile spread across my cheeks. It was my hope, but I realized that it also served as her despair. She had been dreading this day. For, once autumn came, she would be abandoned. Once autumn came, her bruised heart would be damaged further in replacement for my absence. How many more scars will she gain? How much longer will she flinch at movements that are too sudden? How many more tears will trickle down her face at a voice that is too loud? 

I confided in her, begging her to leave with me, but I knew her answer already. She shook her head, she was chained too, just like me and our brother before us. We could not defy the system. None of us were brave enough to stand up against them. Only our autumn would hold the key that could free us. Afraid that I would not see her again, I confessed my worries. Through teary eyes, she assured me that she would be okay, that she would be just fine. I nodded, burying my face into her shoulder. Her voice was soothing and strong, a stark contrast to her thin, fragile physique. As I held her in my arms, I worried that her bones would snap if I hugged her too tightly, yet I marveled in her strength and fortitude. But I must wonder if it really was strength that she had, that we had. 

Is it strength to cower in fear? Is it strength to hide away, waiting desperately for our autumn to arrive? Was it with strength that our brother dashed away in escape, not looking back for even a second? I don’t know, and I don’t know if I ever will. She cupped my face in her hands and told me that when the day breaks and autumn arrives, to run. She told me to run as fast as I could, to feel the cool breeze on my cheeks and the wonderful crunch of leaves under my feet. She told me to visit a beach and splash in the icy water. She told me to lift my hands up to the sun and feel its warmth on my fingertips. She told me to enjoy the world, to skip, jump, hop, and sing, so that I might write her a letter of what it’s like outside our prison of numbness. 

“The letters will be my strength,” she assured me. 

I nodded, lips quivering, unable to speak. I find it strange how we stayed awake all night, both dreading and looking forward to the sight of the new autumn sun peeking over the horizon. I never thought I would be reluctant to leave the terrifying grasps of the monsters that kept us here. The endless years of feeling guilt, worthlessness, and horror had finally come to an end. I would no longer have to face the sharp knife of words, cutting into my heart and berating me for mistakes that were not my own. I would no longer have to tremble at the sound of a slamming door, or sneakily dilute the wine bottles with water in hopes that it would delay the demons. There would be no more sleepless nights filled with yelling and screaming, and the sting left by a cold, hard slap in the face would return no more. With the light of the rising sun, my monsters vanished. With the click of a key and the rattle of metal falling to the floor, my autumn had begun. Unchained and free, finally free, my autumn had arrived. Hugging my sister for what I hoped would not be the last time, I promised I would come back for her. I heard the honk of my friend’s car, beckoning me to safety and independence. Stepping outside onto the flaming leaves of autumn, I left my nest of thorns and bid my parents farewell.