Bedtime

TW: mention of child abuse

To most, memories are flashes. At the sound of a familiar tune or the scent of distant days, the memories come flooding in, sharp and picturesque or the briefest hint of a feeling.

To me, though, they come in big spiky punches. Liquid razors, if you will, being served to me like a lung-puncturing drink.

"Hannah, I swear to god you don't put down that f*** phone while I'm speaking to you and I'm taking you to the doctor to get you fixed up."

Ah, my mother in all her ginger glory. She lunges towards me with a gangly claw out and an expression of pure malice- the kind where she's "f***ing done with the family" and "no one ever helps her" and "murdering her daughter is most certainly an ethically responsible thing to do." It's the look where your mother is gone and anything goes.

That memory was surreal- only because the day had started out so completely okay. Bev and I were sitting quietly on the couch, sharing a fluffy pillow between us. The TV blared uselessly in the background as we played Fruit Ninja on my scrappy old iPhone 8- a timeless classic, in my opinion, something Bev obviously shared because they were amazing and had amazing taste. The massacre of watermelons continued on smoothly while Momma was vacuuming upstairs.

She started tame, saying something along the lines of, "Hannah sweetie could you come up here?"

Me, Hannah sweetie, was unfortunately short on attention span but drunk on banana-pounding adrenaline, so I replied with something stupid like, "Why?"

"Just get up here."

I, unfortunately, paid no attention to Bev's concern, and couldn't even remember what I said. But damn do I remember the icy silence that solidified straight after and the pixelated sadness of 3 missed fruit.

"You're busy doing what? You're a f***ing freeloader, that's what, lounging around in my house like some homeless person. I've got the WHOLE house and you two brats while you do absolutely NOTHING to contribute, do you know how hard it is for a single mother to-"

Next comes the threat to kick you out, I thought grimly, shrinking into my phone. Or to sell everything you own. But I have Bev. And it's a normal morning, and this is normal, it'll pass-

-but then she was suddenly in front of me, slapping my phone away, seizing my wrist and twisting it into a position that was horrendously, completely wrong, and Bev-

"Hannah, I swear to god-"

But just like a dagger, the glint falls short and the scream cuts off, puncturing me right in the gut, where it solemnly glimmers.

More showers emerge- the scent of the doctor's office, quiet accusatory whispers, the unsettling vrrrrr of the molding air conditioner. While the other memories bled by mercifully, the vrrrr of the air conditioner continued in the back of my mind like a mantra of madness.

Endless white noise that triggered the feeling of pain. Actual pain, not this silly wave of fear. Pain from the feeling of being trapped, scared, misunderstood, and the sensation of being undeniably, completely unloved.

Vrrrrrrrrrr

A small shard flew by and I caught a glimpse of happiness, my friends Jordan and Allise. They stood like gorgeous silhouettes in the meadow-wheat grass, the setting sun washing everything in gold. I could feel the warmth imprinting itself on my skin. "Cocoa" Allise soundlessly turned to me, uniquely acute to my presence, and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"You'll get out of that family one day." She said, smiling. I remembered every one of her words perfectly. "18 is just around the corner! We'll be legal adults, and we'll all bunk in together. It'll be okay, Hannah. It'll be okay."

The me in the reflection smiled at her with a naïve, tentative hope. Allise smiled back. But it was wrong, all wrong- her eyes were black, her mouth hollow. Suddenly the ground contorted and they were sped miles away, a true photograph, a different world.

A small mosaic of memories washed over me, prickling my chest, almost laying down the field for that memory. I heard Jordan's conversation behind the brick wall, whispering about how I was an attention freak. A weirdo. A red flag.

And Allise hesitantly agreeing.

"Yeah... and playing her therapist is getting kinda tiring...”

I closed my eyes and felt it dig into my heart. A quiet whistle of pain. False hope is what it was. Fancy lies. Two more juts into my ear and screamed to be noticed. I try to ignore it, to not make any more noise. Recollect the fragments of my mind before they'd be blown away again.

Every night it was like this. I figured out quick that skipping sleep was a no-go; my body would shut down and my mind wouldn't stop churning, every second felt like an hour, and every hour was filled with paranoia and infuriating silence. At least here, the shards were distant. The cuts wouldn't appear when everything was over.

I figure there must be a lesson somewhere- I mean, It's basically the recollection of my entire existence. I figure there's an answer lurking about the daggers, some clues that could point me in the right direction.

Vrrrrrrrrr

But every night ends the same.

The storm finishes, and for a second there is true silence. I wearily open my eyes and thumb the empty space, coming back with wet blood. All of my limbs slowly lose their functionality and I'm submerged simultaneously in the terror of death and desperate relief.

Then, the iconic sound of flickering florescent sounds and something similar to backlight shines through the tips of my eyelids. I look up and relish the burn of the light.

Two doors shine above me. They're perfectly identical in every way, but I know their function. Wake up, or sleep in.

Almost egregiously simple compared to what I endure. I used to think it was ironic, but these days I wished they were a little more black and white.

But the world doesn't reward cowards like me, who hide away in their sleep. Only after you earn it do you fade away.

So I reach towards the right, bracing myself.