I'm Amanda FYI, well who cares you didn't even ask for my name and here i am babbling either way because i'm bored. let me tell you my story right here right now. i'm saying it here maybe because i don't have any other place to bleed myself. i ran away from home when i was sixteen. not because i caused any trouble but because i couldn't tolerate my parents. i never had a good relationship with my parents like my brother did. they found a fault in everything i did and said. they would criticise me in front of my relatives and strangers. and most of all, they made me hate myself for who i am. i was their disappointment, the black sheep of the family.
ever since 16, i lived a carefree life. at first i was scared but then i found life. i realised that even i can be happy in the world. i wouldn't say i had it easy after running away from home but i definitely can say i'm living a better life and a happy one in fact. when i turned 25 i was at a party with my friends. i considered them as friends because when i didn't have anyone, they were there for me. they were getting so loud and as i was already drunk, i couldn't bear to listen to them. my head was about to burst and i wanted to scream and shout at them to shut their friggging mouths. but i was scared. i was scared that they will leave me too.
i slowly got up mumbling that i need to use the toilet. well i really don't want to go but i might feel better if i puke as, the way i am now, i won't be able to go back to the apartment without making a scene. almost stumbling with every step i took, i made my way towards the toilet. thank god, its empty. i opened the door to one of the toilets and unfortunately, i was too drunk to realise that someone had followed me. i opened the door and was about to close it when i stumbled. before i could get a face slap from the dear floor, someone grabbed me from my waist and pulled me straight up making me turn towards him. i almost cursed but stopped when i saw it was Barnie, one of my friend's boyfriend.
"Thanks Barnie.", i mumbled and tried to get away from him. i never had a good impression on him and from the very first day i met him, i realised that i should never cross him for a reason.
when i tried to get away, he pulled me closer to him and before i could protest pushed me into the toilet and closed the door behind. i screamed. i screamed until my lungs gave away. i kept pushing him but he was so strong for me and it was useless as i was already drunk more than i could handle. once i was able to kick his stomach but, it was a mistake. he cursed and tightly closed my mouth with one hand and did whatever he wanted to do with me as i stayed immobile, not being able to scream and being scared to push him as i was already hurting.
my whole body was aching and i couldn't move a muscle. i could hear noises around me. with much difficulty i opened my eyes and tried to remember where i am. then i realised what happened. the only thought on my head was to get away. i was still inside the bar toilet. putting weight to the wall i got up but my eyes went black seeing the sight before me. there was blood everywhere. i started shivering when it was not even cold. i didn't want to look down but i had to. i slowly looked down clutching my hands tightly like i have never done. my skirt was soaked with blood. and it all came back to me. i realised i was raped. more than that i realised that i can't talk about it. to anyone. i have seen the way people talk about raped women. they blame them. they blame women rather than blaming the men. with every remaining strength i ran out. i didn't care if anybody saw me, i had to get out. i ran to my apartment went straight to my room and closed it. the only good thing was my apartment was like five mins away from the bar. i wanted to scream and cry but i didn't. i took a wash and put the clothes inside the dustbin. i felt disgusted. out of nowhere a sense of loneliness hit me and i remembered my family. i hated them but they are the ones that i now want to see the most. i didn't cry. i didn't deserve to cry. all i could do was sleep. sleep like nothing happened. in my dreams i would remember what happened to me. at nights i would scream and wake up. but i slept back. i covered my face with the pillow and i slept.
after a week i realised something was wrong with my body. i kept vomiting even when i didn't eat anything. my body was too heavy for me to carry. i left my room and slowly walked to the pharmacy and asked for medicine. but the woman working there, gave me a one look and told me to do a pregnancy test. i did it. i knew i was pregnant even without having to do one. i have seen the changes that happened to my mother when she was pregnant with my brother. i knew everything.
that's why i stopped eating. i starved myself for weeks. i wanted to die. i wanted the thing growing inside me to go away. more than anything i was scared. even when wanted to eat so badly, i didn't eat a single bread crumb.
but something happened. after two months, i was walking down the stairs barely standing as i didn't have any strength at all i slipped all the way down to the bottom. i should have screamed because my whole body started to ache. but part of me smiled, i would die. i would be able to finally get away from this hell. the landlady saw me lying and i could hear her calling for an ambulance. i couldn't move my body nor speak. for the first time in my life, i regretted leaving home 9 years ago. i regretted for not having the courage to hold on. i regretted for not treasuring my family, for giving them up. and most of all i regretted for not telling them i loved them regardless of everything.
it's been exactly a year since the accident. luckily or unluckily the thing that was growing inside me was taken out after the accident. i heard it had died. i saw my parents after years and they didn't say anything. they must have thought i was married. they didn't say anything about the baby. i knew they had questions. but they didn't ask and i didn't tell. when i first saw them, i was taken away. my parents had grown so old and my brother had married. when they saw me at the hospital they were crying. i could see how happy they were to see me, even with a broken arm and a leg. and i was happy too after so many years, i smiled. i couldn't look upto their eyes but i smiled when they were looking away. when it was the time to finally go, my dad, held me so tightly and told me to come home. and i cried. everything that was built inside me came out. i cried with every little bit of strength i had. and when i was done, i looked up to their eyes and said what i wanted to tell them so badly,
"Thank you. thank you so much! I'm really sorry for everything i did and for every pain i caused." my parents hugged me tightly nodding and i knew they forgave me, but i made a promise to myself, that i would give my entire remaining life to them. i would do everything i couldn't do for them and i would make them smile because, when i didn't have anyone they came. they took care of me without a single complaint. they made me live when i wanted to die. and today, at 56 years old, i could proudly say that i'm proud of my parents and that i was glad that they made me live. i was glad that they made my life worth to live. and most of all, i was glad for loving me even when i did wrong and for taking care of me when i hurt them more than i could ever forgive myself for.